Figures of Fear: An Anthology
“‘Now you have to find it in your heart to forgive yourself.’‘And do you honestly think that I haven’t tried?’ Michael retorted. ‘I’ve even tried mortification of the flesh. Stubbing out cigarettes on the back of my hand. Hitting my head against the wall again and again until I couldn’t see for the blood running down my face. I had to tell Kate I hit myself on a cupboard door.’Father Bernard shook his head. ‘That’s not the way, Michael. Castigating yourself now isn’t going to change what you did all those years ago.’Michael was standing by the window, looking out over the steeply sloping garden. It had started raining again, and he could hear the raindrops crackling through the hydrangeas. At the bottom of the garden ran the River Lee, the colour of badly tarnished silverware, and beyond the river rose the misty hills that led to the airport, and beyond, to Riverstick and Belgooly and Garrettstown. And of course to Kinsale Sands, where day and night the grey Atlantic washed, and washed..., but could never wash away Michael’s guilt.Father Bernard said, ‘Nobody blamed you, Michael.MoreLess
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