Bette, sorry to interrupt, but

James, I break in, how many times have I told you, you dont have to apologize every time you have something to tell me.

I knowokay, he shakes his head.

What is it James? Slightly amused at his rattled nerves I try to calm him.

Theres aa

A whatJames?

Apriest here to see you, he finally spits out the. A look of dismay leaving his face for fear.

What now? Im wondering what else those bible thumping extremists have to throw at me. Composing my own nerves I tell James to show him in.

James leaves my office and, sooner than I expect, a man enters. Hes clad all in black with the exception of the small white square tucked under his Adams apple.

Ms. Porter, he asks, extending his hand.

Reluctantly I take answering, yesFather? I ask him his name returning his handshake. He has a firm, but gently grip.

AndrewAndrew Bishop, he replies with a pleasant voice and half smile.

FatherBishop?

Yes I know, he says, understanding my question. He must get a lot of comments. People usually just call me Father Andy.

Okay, I begin, what can I do for you? Not really sure I want to know the answer; I take my seat, prepared for the worst.

Im not an outspoken man, Ms. Porter. His voice is soothing my frazzled nerves, calming my inner voice that tells me to kick him out. Sure, I give a sermon every weekendand Ill pray with people that dont know howbut if someone doesnt want to listen to what I have to say, I cant make them. Do you understand what Im saying?

His pause brings about an awkward silence. What DOES he mean?

That puzzled look tells me you dont, he begins talking again. Ms. Porter, by brother is homosexual. Our parents havent spoken to him in ten years. I cant tell you that I understand the lifestyle all that much, but I can tell you that I empathize with people who live it.

Okay. Im still not clear as to what hes saying. Why is he here?

Im not here to preach to you Ms. Porter.

Thats not what I was thinking!

What I AM here to do is ask you a favor.

A favor? What am I, his buddy? I usually only do favor for friends, Father Andrew. I try to interject a little formality into the conversation.

Please, call me Andy, hes a calming presence and I dont know why. Is he trying to wrangle meto control the tone of this conversation? I think its working. I cant make myself get mad at him.

Its not really a personal favor, Ms. Porterits morea favor for your own patrons.

Here it comes. Hes going to ask me to end Provocations early!

Id like you to think about exhibiting some religiously base artafter thisProvocations exhibit. There are many wonderful artists whose faith based work could lend a balance to the harsh works in your current exhibit.

He wants me to put up religious art?

Wasnt it you, after all who said, what gives me the right to decide what you can and cant see?, he continues.

Did I really say that? Waitthe debate with Fae Buckley. You saw that, I ask him.

Yes, I did. And I have to say, you carried yourself very well. Ms. Buckley brought personal attacks into the debate. I AM sorry, by the wayfor your loss.

Thank you, I say, not sure of how else to respond.

How are you and your partner? Are you coping with the grief? Who is he to ask me that? He doesnt know the first thing about me. I counsel people on loss all the time Ms. Porterfriends, acquaintancesstrangers. They all have the same story. I know it seems like I dont know what youre going through, but I doI really doI lost my parents last year.

I look at him and cant say a word. Tears are welling up in my eyesmy vision begins to blur. I grab a tissue to dry my eyes. I cant let this strangerthis priest see me cry.

Its okay, Ms. Porter. Go ahead and crycrying is good, his voice is so soothing. I look at grief as being something in a jar. Some people let the grief spill out and let it goothers, put a lid on that jar and never let the sorrow out. Thats when the grief stays there and doesnt allow you to move on. Its not until you open the jar that you can continue with your own life. And dont get me wrongthere will always be a little bit of sorrow stuck to the sides of that jar, but itll be little enough for you to handle.

I dry my eyes and compose myself. Why do I feel so comfortable around this man? I want to tell him everythinghow I feel about losing the babythat I cheated on Tinathat she left me. I have to get him out of here before he disarms me even more. Ill look into the art youre asking me about.

Thank you, he responds, standing up. Ill be in touch. Then he turns to leave.

Father Andy, I look at him standing in my doorwayan inquisitive look on his face. Pleasecall me Bette.

Okay, he says with that same half smile again. Then he winks at me and turns to leave.

I turn to my computer, ready to look for religious art. I think he really got to me. And he pulled out all the stops by quoting me. Was he just stoking me ego? Oh well. Lets see what I can find. Wait a minute Bette Porterits Saturday afternoongo home! I gather my things stopping only to wonder why that priest was here on a Saturday afternoon. Ill ask him next time I see himif I ever do see him again. Passing James on my way out, I tell him to go and enjoy the rest of his afternoon as well. He shouldnt be here any more than I should.

I stop for Chinese food on the way home and find myself ordering for two. Its just habitor maybe hope. Ill bring food home for Tina againif I can ever do anything to deserve her. Stop thinking that way Bette! You have to deserve heryou need her. Is that her car in front of the house? She came home! She wants to talk about things. Theres hope yet, Bette Porter! Excited to see Tina, I hurry out of my car and bound up the steps with the food. I open the front door and see her standing in the kitchen. Shes so beautiful. Is she looking at the photo? Shes sorry she broke the frame. I close the door and approach her.

Tina? Baby, Im glad youre home.

To Be Continued…