Library ----- Table of Contents
Father Tell meets Dimas behind the pillar in St. Mary’s Chapel and introduces the woman he wants Dimas to court — An illustration of the German-American girl — Dimas’s eloquent racism against the German tribes, but the girl is beautiful — The girl’s name is Aria, and she’s the daughter of Father Tell — Dimas gets insecure about his height — The three move to the greater sanctuary — Before the cross of Jesus, Father Tell and Dimas negotiate to see whether Dimas would be a good fit for Aria — Father Tell asks about Chemistry — An illustration of the kind of noble woman Dimas perceives Aria to be — Father Tell gets cheeky — Dimas despairs over the near illicit nature of the affair, at least by modern times — Aria and Dimas share a moment between them — The negotiations are a success, Aria expresses her approval, but Dimas can hardly believe.
It was on the 2nd Saturday of August,
Two hours after mass and confessions
Where resting in my pew—backmost row, second
To last chair hid by marble pillar in
The church’s secondary chapel—
I was thinking before the flesh of God
About how I could write more books to sell
When Father Tell had snuck himself to sit
Right next to me with a young woman in tow
Best described a Volsung maid who stood at our pew’s end.
She dressed in a way which used to be Catholic,
But has now been left to the Mormons and Amish.
She wore a long black dress, a collared white shirt
With long sleeves, and dark leather oxfords for shoes.
Like Father Tell, she was a Germ, German
Like most people in our parish save for
The token few Chinese, blacks, the one Lao,
And Mexicans. One could count on the burbs
In Minnesota to be completely gentrified,
So we happy few found ourselves amidst
Those barbs who loved to play at master race
To cover—pull the eyes over their pathetic history
As a tree-root-licking people born from the inbreeding
Of a brother and sister, for whom the sister
After snapping the necks of the children born
To her from her former non-blood-related spouse
Decided to bear a son with her brother
Worthy of fathering the Nordic people
And the Germ’s greatest hero, Sigurd the Dragonslayer
(Of whom I personally, like quite much).
Of course, this being the United States of Mutts
In the third millennia, the Germs of Minnesota,
Lest they were a Germaboo Brit like Tolk
Would have no need to know these tales as I myself
Had no need to know or express an eloquent racism
Born from the Eddas of Odin’s son Volsung
When turning around to face a beautiful woman.
The girl sat next to Father Tell could have been
From Alabama, on the spectrum, or a babbling tard.
I was twenty-two years a chaste, unmarried man,
And she was beautiful.
It didn’t take a second for me to feel that.
I stared, perhaps a bit too long, because I’ll confess
I spied on her before, one hour before, many times before,
With glances which should’ve been kept for God
Because she wore a veil for mass which caused
Me to look because she looked like an alien
In the congregation which adapted
Their acts and fashions to the cloak of Sodom
(Least what I heard according to an exorcist).
I didn’t expect to see the girl two hours later.
Father Tell smiled. The girl did not. The priest
In respect for Adoration whispered, ‘Dimas, good
To see you’re still here. It’s a blessing that
Your schedule’s so predictable. I found one.
May I introduce you to Aria, my daughter.’
My mouth dropped. I stared at Father Tell, blanched.
‘You have a daughter?’ I whispered back. Then I
Looked at the girl, who stood without a curl
To her lip. How could a priest have a daughter?
Seeing my confusion, Father Tell answered,
‘I’m her guardian, Dimas. She’s adopted.’
‘A priest shouldn’t live with a young woman.’
‘You’re right. She lives with Mother Margaret,
But for all intents and purposes I am her guardian.
No, she isn’t an orphan. Aria’s—’
Father Tell paused. ‘Aria’s parents still live,
But we should speak of joyful things, not sad.’
My heart cooled. Abandoned by one’s own parents?
Guess that’s reason to never complain about the times.
Literal orphans just got replaced by spiritual ones.
After one long look to Christ on the altar, I stood.
I looked at Aria. She stood taller than me, the Germ.
It was probably just an inch or two more,
I found that when my eyes rested on a woman’s
I was forced to meditate on my life of regretful glances.
I could only thank God that Aria didn’t wear heels
So my eyes didn’t rest on a different place.
Perhaps perceiving through my darkened eyes
The depths of my wretched soul, Aria
Tilted her head, concerned or a bit confused.
She whispered, ‘Do you want to ask me something?’
Her voice was soft, like a—know what? I never
Understood comparisons to flutes or birds.
Aria had a young woman’s voice, that voice
Which would grow raspier and uglier with age,
That voice which a man could tolerate on a pretty face,
But would suffer torments in his ears once wrinkles came
As his woman turned from a gorgeous barking spitz
With her soft lustrous coat to a bald screaming witch.
Her voice, if I must suffer a description,
Was just that of a soft-spoken woman.
I sighed, hobbled out of the pew, and told them
That we should speak somewhere else in respect
To He who sat before us. They both agreed.
The three of us left St. Mary’s Chapel
And took our seats in the frontmost pews of
The greater gathering hall where mass took place.
No one else besides us were around, save for
God Himself in wooden sculpture form hanged above
Looking down from His cross with His true blood
And true flesh locked away in the tabernacle
Just right of the altar where rays of morning sun
Shined through rose-colored, stained glass to reflect
Itself white across its polished stones.
The lights were off, and all was dark within
The hall, built of orange brick, with various
Pillars lined throughout, but the sun shined
Diagonal to form this triangular pocket of light
Which made known little flies of dust, which hit
The cross, the altar, and the space around
Where one received the flesh of God. It was
Like a meadow, a plain in the woods or forest.
No light entered except in the place free of leaves.
With our Lord in the light, we came to speak,
And with Father Tell, discussed various things
About Aria whom he brought for me to meet.
Of course, he sat between me and Aria,
Which I did not at all mind since at least
To my, let’s say ancient instinct, I felt it most lawful
For a man to decide the line between
The man and the daughter he’s thinking to marry off.
I could marry a woman, without the woman’s blessings,
But I could never marry a woman without her father’s
Even if I had the woman’s. In Sodom’s words,
I was okay with marrying against her consent
For so long as I had the ‘Yes’ of Dad,
Which for purposes of her adulterous ways
Weighed like a feather to the woman’s desire.
As me and Father Tell talked of the deal, it
Was this ‘Yes' of his I tried to secure.
Finances, check. Common religion. Check.
Virtues, family history, vices, didn’t ask. Granted,
Father Tell was my confessor so I guess
He already knew. Then he came to Chemistry.
The priest clicked his tongue, rolled his shoulders back,
And said, ‘I don’t know a better way to ask.
Dimas, do you think you’ll get along with Aria?’
Now, by my sense as a man—a coward,
A snub by standard of present and past—
I could not help but suspect a caveat
To this woman whose conduct and Amish dress
Seemed from some terminally online tradcath’s fantasy,
This is to say she seemed like a (what’s the term) Wai-fu
Drawn by a Nip whose never been in a relationship
(That kind of man whom at the time I could relate)
Whereby the girl would be dedicated to one man
While being a woman whom every man wanted to—
Well if you know you know. I’d hate to be an anime man.
This said, Aria seemed a proper lady, a lady lady,
A trad-wife who kept her mouth shut when men spoke,
A girl who only yelled when her trad husband
Took his fist out to beat her to the floor.
She seemed the kind of woman who deserved
All the gentleness in the world, but whom
God would give a terrible cross by gifting
Her a husband she never deserved. She’d
Be the kind of girl who only stayed for God’s sake.
In other words, from what I projected,
My kind of woman, though I was neither what
Web-slaves would call a trad or modernist.
I actually did things outside my computer,
So I had no need to consider an identity
Outside of my status as a worm under God.
‘Father Tell,’ I answered, ‘What do you mean?’
Aria had not said a single thing,
Which by my ancient instinct I was fine with,
But by my will to answer Father Tell,
Had nothing more than lust and looks to judge.
I told him just as much. I said, ‘If you’re
Talking about first impressions, she’s beautiful.
I would like to get along with her, but one
Can’t judge solely on looks because if we did
Then I’d …’ I paused, sighed, and looked the priest in
His wrinkled brown eyes. He heard my confessions.
He should know. Love bought, love which was not.
I lowered my voice to a rasp. I answered,
‘Father, I’d like to get along with your daughter.
She’s beautiful. I’d like to get to know her more.
There shouldn’t be anything wrong with that, right?
As for whether or not she wants to know me,
That’s up to you and her. Actually, speaking of—’
I looked past Father Tell to Aria
Who at this point seemed to be lazily
Watching flying dust and sunlight down the cross.
A ray of sun hit the side of her cheek,
That is her veil. In my throat, my voice caught itself.
Never in my life. I’ve never even been on a date before!
How did it come to be that a woman in a veil,
A priest would bring such a woman to me!
I prayed many rosaries, sure, but—but
My mouth was agape. I noticed, and closed it.
Then I turned my eyes back to Father Tell,
Who smiled brightly, with squinted foxlike eyes.
It was as if he wanted to tell me
That he knew what was going through my mind.
Old geezer. If he was one of those priests,
Those priests with an adulterous past, why I’d—
If Aria wasn’t there, and if God wasn’t there,
And if I were a child I could probably
Make fun of him for not marrying her himself,
That is if he knew what I was thinking
Or feeling looking at a woman with covered veil,
Covered dress, arms, br—given to imagine.
Yea, we were nothing but two dudes talking
About how his girl should sell. I was the buyer
And he was my … I won’t say. God help me.
What we were doing was legal, and moral.
I said to the priest, ‘Are you okay with this?
Can I get to know your daughter, Aria, better
Before I consider marrying her?’
‘Yes, you can,’ Father Tell answered, positively.
Great. A woman this easy must have problems,
Or maybe it was the family, the dad who was a priest.
Not that I would be backing out. I lusted.
Still, wolf I was, my conscience forced me to ask,
‘Is Aria okay with this? With me?’
At this, Aria turned. Her sky-blue eyes sparkled in the sun.
How beautiful. She blinked a bunch and raised her hand.
Oh, her eyes were literally on the rays.
‘How about we scoot?’ I said. We all moved
Across the pew till we found a spot entirely dark
Two scoots left. We didn’t move very far.
Aria rubbed her eyes. She looked at me
Again, this time with a steady, darker gaze.
I was sure the size of her pupils were
More for lack of light in the sanctuary
Than for love, but looking into her gaze
Caused me to wish that the hem of my suit
Was a bit more long. Now, I would have blushed
If I could, but my blood—I only hoped
Father Tell didn’t care about sitting in between.
The girl looked me up, then down. She flushed pink,
Then frowned. In a flash the color left her cheeks.
Aria’s whole face drowned purple, then white,
Until finally after finding the will to overcome
Lifted her gaze. The color returned to her cheeks
Of whose skin was like the yellow of a peach.
The frown stayed, however, so I did not feel much better.
Was she trying to scold me? Why look at me
Like I’m some roach? I already know I am one!
How far down can a lip curl! Why do I smile?
Why am I smiling more! What is wrong with me
And my family line! Why was I born from an ancestor
Who liked to sleep with girls who didn’t like him!
Oh that sounds so much worse than it actually sounds!
For decency I wanted to feel much worse,
But the seconds of her blushing cheeks stuck to my mind
So I—I—I in spite of her abject expression
I actually grew a bit more confident
Which I … the soul of me did not want before God!
We were in the Sanctuary for God’s sake,
But I, a cheeky part of me felt that she wanted me.
Good fantasy Dimas, look at yourself.
You couldn’t even woo a girl properly,
So you had to cheat by convincing her father
To bring her before the altar, which somehow
Happened literally, and the father’s a Father.
The Father’s a priest. C’mon Father Tell,
You could totally pressure your kid’s consent
Right here, right now and it’d be totally legal!
I mean, how long has Aria been waiting?
Girl like her, too pretty for a state of
Of spineless men, too religious to dress
In common clothes. In short, too weird to date,
Which was why she agreed to a priest’s offer
To meet, then court, a man she never met!
Why, she must be pretty desperate to have
Been impressed by a man, a roach like me!
But oh, there she is, Aria, with her gaze
Of utter disgust like she stepped on a wad
Of dog poop with her horse-brushed polished shoes.
And aren’t those shoes shiny, like a minted coin!
She must have been really excited to meet Mr. Right!
Father Tell, how much did you have her hyped?
I—poor girl, she must have been expecting someone else.
I asked you if you had the Hunchback of St. Mary’s,
But it seems that hunchback was me. I mean
I wasn’t hiding behind a bell, but hiding behind a pillar,
And I know I’m not a hunchback. My spine’s straight,
But I may as well be because I am a little man,
Even by the national average and that,
If I were living in a different time
I could have ran myself some honor and titles
Dueling, putting to death, other guys
So I may take their lives, take their wives,
And thereby enrich my own life taking their
Slice of the pie! Oh, but these were modern times,
The beginning of the third millennia,
Whereby life and our whole history shall be
Remembered as a time of passionless peace.
Man like me, whose life was predicted by
Spinoza nerds in tall white-jackets will not
By the program they’ve started allow me
To defy their logic to win a proper portion.
Strong men, by the math, shall have their due,
And the law, the program says that the weak
Will have nothing to do but give to the strong,
That is what the Department of Science says is strong.
What pansies, what they call strong are just tall
Heads easily shot. Their wide, fat frames a detriment
To the arrows flying their way. Muskets out! Miss! Hit!
I win. Such men only get what they have
Because they’re wanted, but the weak man, the eternal man
Is able to get what he has even if he’s hated.
I’m not like them. No. I’d have my hands around her
Sweet white neck. Money or no I’d—
God, forgive me. How can I think such things.
I am sat right here before your tabernacle. Help me.
In spite of these thoughts, my smile remained plastered
On my face. Aria’s expression didn’t change either.
She just looked at me without looking away, sneered
Like she was sizing up some manner of beast.
I couldn’t force it anymore. I no longer
Felt happy about myself. I gave up.
To Aria, I mouthed ‘Sorry,’ because
I was too weak to whisper, and let my lips fall.
I made no effort to hide my depression.
All of life was a game, a ruse, a play,
But God didn’t make it that way, we did
Because it’s within us to cheat and lie to win.
Fake it till you make it? What a load of crock.
It takes true faith to split the rock. No lies.
Yet, I was a man, and as a man, even if my soul cried,
I was not capable of crying, no less in front of others.
The most I could do was frown, and Aria,
Aria mouthed something back. I couldn’t read
Lips, so I couldn’t tell, but after mouthing
What she mouthed she raised her lips. She no longer
Frowned. She didn’t smile either though, so
My mood didn’t change much. What a waste of time, I felt.
Now, Father Tell exchanged glances between me and her
But unlike the girl looked straight like a proper man,
Whether sensing my lust, my shame, or Aria’s abject horror,
Eventually, after this ridiculous silence passed,
He coughed and deciding to break it, said,
‘Aria, would you like to get to know this man?’
Aria, at the voice of her guardian, lit up.
Then, well I can’t say anyone would be surprised
Given from what I’ve written. She said yes, just yes.
Specifically, she said, ‘Dad, you said yes, so yes.’
The fiat of my youth. Father Tell asked why.
You brought me to meet him. He must be a good man.
That’s good enough for me. Not like anyone else asked,
And I’ll grown too old if I wait forever.
I’ll trust you, Dad, and take my chances with Dimas.
Besides, look at him. Suit, tie, wrinkled shirt.
He needs help ironing his clothes. Let us
Get betrothed, engaged. We can always call it off.
I actually think I should live with him as a maid.
Call it off? Dimas, do you hear? Wait, you can’t live
With another man! It’s a mortal sin, I say.
Why not? Didn’t maids, which I am, at least
By my age, didn’t maids used to run houses
With men living in them? Actually, didn’t
Thomas Jefferson have a maid? Oh wait.
You just proved exactly why I’m right.
Yea, you are right, Dad. Maybe I can just
Swing by the house, or live close to him.
If we’re going to do this properly,
We should be given ample opportunity
To learn about each other. I think we should—
The dialogue didn’t seem real to me.
Someone as ugly as I considered by beauty?
My mind blanked. I said yes to whatever
Felt positive to me, and no to what I thought was bad.
Father Tell shook my hand. Aria waved goodbye.
They invited me to go out, but I decided to stay and pray.
When they left, I found the sun beaming down from above
Enveloping the hanging cross, covering the altar.
Both items lay within a circle of her light.
High noon. Has it really been two hours?
I didn’t hunger, so I left my pew,
Re-entered St. Mary’s Chapel for Adoration,
And sat myself again behind my pillar.
The rest of the day passed in a foggy haze,
The most I remembered is that I and Aria
Would go on a date tomorrow of some kind,
Least for what counts for dates in traditional courtship.