Read Online Against God by Patrick Senécal - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Patrick Senécal
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she knew what you did last
night, she wouldn’t want to help you anymore, but she brushes your comment off
with a careless wave, reiterates that it isn’t just you she wants to help but
herself as well, that’s what you have to understand, she insists, but her words
bring you no comfort, you squirm in yourseat, you grimace,
you look unwell, you mutter it would be better if you got out here, but she
tells you you’re almost there, you’re somewhere in the east part of the City,
faded buildings and stores, some of them dilapidated, the Honda turns down a
small street ending in a cul-de-sac, then you stop, a large two-storey house,
exterior walls bearing black marks, like burns, you walk toward the front door,
the yard is strewn with all kinds of debris, shards of window glass, charred
planks, various tools, you step over the threshold, a large room undergoing
renovations, four or five people, adult men and women, busy painting, patching,
hammering, pop music coming from a CD player in the corner, most everyone greets
Mélanie and smiles, and Mélanie greets most everyone and smiles, she asks where
Father Léo is, a guy plastering a hole in a wall tells her he’s in his office,
Mélanie walks to the stairs, but you hesitate, don’t budge, reluctant in front
of all these people, so she returns to take your hand and guide you, her touch
makes you start, but you don’t pull your hand away, you follow her, you climb
the stairs and arrive at another smaller room, more people working, here the
renovations are further along, lively, garish colours, posters showing current
movies, bands, stars, Mélanie takes you into a small room at the back, two men
consult a plan spread out on the desk, one of them is older, in his sixties, in
black clerical dress, a Roman collar, Mélanie approaches, you drop her hand but
follow, the priest looks up, greets Mélanie, happy, smiling, tells her the
living room is almost done, Mélanie takes in the roomand
comments on how great it looks, the young people will love hanging out here, the
man with the priest walks away, then Mélanie introduces you, his name is Léo,
Father Léo, she tells the man of the Church that she met you recently and wanted
to show you all this, Father Léo shakes your hand warmly, looks you right in the
eye, asks if you’ve come to join the group, you give a feeble handshake, say
nothing, wary, so Mélanie adds she hasn’t yet explained what goes on here, the
priest nods without taking his eyes off you, an incredibly kind gaze, then
someone calls for him from an adjoining room, he excuses himself, leaves the
office, you stare at Mélanie, a question, almost an accusation, in your eyes,
finally she explains, this group of volunteers has been working for the past two
months to rebuild the Youth Centre that burned down last summer, it was the only
place where underprivileged youth in the neighbourhood could get together, but
the government refused to put any money toward renovating the house, so Father
Léo’s group sprang into action, the group took over the renovations, everything
is done on a volunteer basis, but you have trouble understanding, you ask what
the group is exactly, Mélanie adopts a respectful admiring tone, full of
compassion, a couple of years ago Father Léo created a sort of association to
welcome anyone suffering or striving to give meaning to his or her life, the
group always gets involved in community projects, always for society’s outcasts,
always on a volunteer basis, like last year when the group launched a huge
fund-raising campaign to help out the library in aschool for
severely disabled children, you listen but your wariness remains, your wariness
grows, you ask Mélanie how long she has been a member of the association, she
says she’s known about the group for several months, that she came from time to
time but always hesitated to become
night, she wouldn’t want to help you anymore, but she brushes your comment off
with a careless wave, reiterates that it isn’t just you she wants to help but
herself as well, that’s what you have to understand, she insists, but her words
bring you no comfort, you squirm in yourseat, you grimace,
you look unwell, you mutter it would be better if you got out here, but she
tells you you’re almost there, you’re somewhere in the east part of the City,
faded buildings and stores, some of them dilapidated, the Honda turns down a
small street ending in a cul-de-sac, then you stop, a large two-storey house,
exterior walls bearing black marks, like burns, you walk toward the front door,
the yard is strewn with all kinds of debris, shards of window glass, charred
planks, various tools, you step over the threshold, a large room undergoing
renovations, four or five people, adult men and women, busy painting, patching,
hammering, pop music coming from a CD player in the corner, most everyone greets
Mélanie and smiles, and Mélanie greets most everyone and smiles, she asks where
Father Léo is, a guy plastering a hole in a wall tells her he’s in his office,
Mélanie walks to the stairs, but you hesitate, don’t budge, reluctant in front
of all these people, so she returns to take your hand and guide you, her touch
makes you start, but you don’t pull your hand away, you follow her, you climb
the stairs and arrive at another smaller room, more people working, here the
renovations are further along, lively, garish colours, posters showing current
movies, bands, stars, Mélanie takes you into a small room at the back, two men
consult a plan spread out on the desk, one of them is older, in his sixties, in
black clerical dress, a Roman collar, Mélanie approaches, you drop her hand but
follow, the priest looks up, greets Mélanie, happy, smiling, tells her the
living room is almost done, Mélanie takes in the roomand
comments on how great it looks, the young people will love hanging out here, the
man with the priest walks away, then Mélanie introduces you, his name is Léo,
Father Léo, she tells the man of the Church that she met you recently and wanted
to show you all this, Father Léo shakes your hand warmly, looks you right in the
eye, asks if you’ve come to join the group, you give a feeble handshake, say
nothing, wary, so Mélanie adds she hasn’t yet explained what goes on here, the
priest nods without taking his eyes off you, an incredibly kind gaze, then
someone calls for him from an adjoining room, he excuses himself, leaves the
office, you stare at Mélanie, a question, almost an accusation, in your eyes,
finally she explains, this group of volunteers has been working for the past two
months to rebuild the Youth Centre that burned down last summer, it was the only
place where underprivileged youth in the neighbourhood could get together, but
the government refused to put any money toward renovating the house, so Father
Léo’s group sprang into action, the group took over the renovations, everything
is done on a volunteer basis, but you have trouble understanding, you ask what
the group is exactly, Mélanie adopts a respectful admiring tone, full of
compassion, a couple of years ago Father Léo created a sort of association to
welcome anyone suffering or striving to give meaning to his or her life, the
group always gets involved in community projects, always for society’s outcasts,
always on a volunteer basis, like last year when the group launched a huge
fund-raising campaign to help out the library in aschool for
severely disabled children, you listen but your wariness remains, your wariness
grows, you ask Mélanie how long she has been a member of the association, she
says she’s known about the group for several months, that she came from time to
time but always hesitated to become
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