Dorian's Destiny: Altered (23 page)

“So you feel you should be
judged at a higher standard than those not of the cloth,” Father
Murphy stated, beginning to understand his son's
turmoil.

“If we are not, then what is the point of
us?” Dorian whined.

“The point of us, Dorian, is to spread God's
Word, share with others His amazing love. That does not mean we are
infallible. We are still human, after all.”

He bit his tongue to keep
from screaming, I'm not human, which was the root of his problems.
However, He didn't want to expose his father to that truth. He
lived it and barely could handle it. He didn't see how his father
could. And he couldn't risk his father shunning him. Finally, he
nodded his head in agreement, the conversation had taken an
uncomfortable turn and all he wanted to do was make peace with his
earthly father. Another awkward silence filled the air. He tried to
wait his father out, hoping he would be the first to
speak.

Just when Dorian began to
panic about having to come up with a harmless topic of
conversation, his father furrowed his brow, “Was I a good father?”
Father Murphy held up his finger. “Before you answer, let me try to
explain why I'm asking.”

Dorian sat silently waiting for his father
to explain himself, but he already knew what his answer would be,
nothing his father could say now would change that.

“I wonder about how well I did as a father
for several reasons, not all of which you had any control over.
Some of what I have to say will probably be familiar, but please
bear with me, I've had quite some time to contemplate what I wanted
to say to you when you returned. I never imagined being a father. I
gave up that prospect long ago when I decided to serve God. I guess
God had other ideas because here you are, my son. And there you
were 22 years ago, on the steps of the church sleeping, just a
toddler barely two years old, wrapped in a tattered blanket with
the words 'Please care for my Dorian' scrawled across it. As I
picked you up, you looked at me with confusion, calling out for
your mother. I didn't know what to tell you, so I just patted your
back and hummed my favorite hymn until you fell back asleep. I laid
you down on the bed you still use and watched you sleep the whole
night, praying silently for guidance. I didn't know what else do.
By morning, I had memorized every contour of your precious little
face. I fell in love with you that night and although I hadn’t
planned on it, I accepted my role as your father. When you woke the
next morning, you once again called for your mother. I told you she
had taken a trip. I expected you to cry, but you didn't. For days,
you asked 'When's momma coming back?' I always replied soon. Then,
finally you stopped asking. I don't know if you forgot or simply
knew what my answer would be.”

A familiar hurt welled up
in Dorian as he listened to his father re-tell of his mother's
abandonment. He loved his father and thought he was better off in
his care, but not knowing why his mother left him had plagued his
mind for years.

“It was many years before either of us
mentioned your mother again. I guess you were about nine. Of
course, your age is only a guess, I'm sorry to say in truth I have
no idea exactly how old you are.”

Dorian swallowed hard,
“Really?”

“I'm sorry. I guess I
should have told you long ago. I just wanted the day of your
arrival to be joyful, not sorrowful. The day after your mother left
you in my care, I took you to Dr. Adams. He confirmed my earlier
assessment that you were around two years old and that you were
healthy. So, since I had no idea when your real birthday was, I
choose to celebrate the day God blessed me with you.”

Dorian gazed at his father,
only slightly surprised he had been celebrating the wrong day of
his birth, often wondering how his father would know his true
birthday when his mother only left him with a name.

“I am sorry for any
mistakes I made raising you,” Father Murphy whispered, looking away
from his son for the first time since beginning his
explanation.

“You gave me your love, father. That was
more than enough. And to answer your question of whether you were a
good father, the answer is a great big loud, OF COURSE. I wouldn't,
couldn't have asked for a more loving, nurturing, caring man to be
my dad. You took me in, loved me like your own and you didn't have
to. Please don't, for a second, think it was anything on your part
that caused me to leave.”

Tears streamed down his face as Dorian
denounced his biggest fear, that his failures as father had pushed
his son away. “I have been terrified it was my fault, you running
away so abruptly, afraid it was something I did or didn't do. And
when you refused to share what happened to you, it all but
confirmed my fears.”

“Oh father,” Dorian sighed,
his own tears making a return. “I never meant to cause you pain.
It's the last thing I would ever want to do. That's part of the
reason I have been reluctant to return. I didn't think I could bear
seeing the pain I caused you or the possibility you wouldn't
forgive me.”

Father Murphy cradled Dorian's face in his
hands. “There is nothing you could do that I wouldn't forgive. You
are my son. I love you and I always will, no matter what. As for
the pain you caused me, that's all part of being a dad, worrying
over your children.” Father Murphy patted his cheeks before
releasing him.

Dorian wiped a tear from
his face.
“Was I a good son?”

“Well…” Father Murphy
replied with a coy smile, hoping to lighten the mood. The magnitude
of emotions whirling around the two men wore on the usually calm
priest. “Indeed, you were. Borrowing the words of a wise man,”
Father Murphy winked, “You gave me your love, even when you knew I
wasn't your father. I couldn't have asked for a more loving son.”
Tears once again moistened his cheeks; his attempt to lighten the
mood failing greatly. He sighed as he resigned to accept the added
emotions emanating from the two of them. His son had returned. He
would gladly shed many a tear in celebration.

The next several hours flew by as the two
men reminisced about Dorian's youth. As the light streaming in
through the kitchen window dimmed, Dorian realized the time for
goodbyes approached fast. Promising to only be away for a couple of
days, he knew Megan would be starting to worry. So consumed by his
reunion with his father, she had almost slipped his mind. He wanted
to yell at himself. She was the main reason for this visit, both as
an advocate to the mending of his relationship with his father and
for discussing his plans for their future.

Never had he imagined discussing matters of
the heart with his father. And now that he was, his body freaked.
Butterflies fluttered in his stomach, his heart pounded, sweat
beads dotted his forehead. Why was the prospect of discussing a
girl with his father so physically taxing?

During a lull in the
retelling of his adolescence, he blurted out his words like ripping
off a band aid, “It wasn't my idea to return. I wanted to, but I
was scared. Scared by what I might find, of whether you would
forgive me.”

A look of curiosity replaced one of hurt
over Dorian's admission. “Well, who do I owe my thanks to for
reuniting me with my son?”

“Her name is Megan.” Dorian answered
joyfully.

“Her?”

“Yes.” Dorian replied, his face turning a
bright shade of red.

“Well, I can tell by your blush, she has
done more than reunite you with me.”

Dorian's jaw dropped as he
thought his father referred to sex. Shaking his head, he felt his
face heat up passed critical. “No…we… uh.” Unable to manipulate his
tongue into a forming any comprehensible denial of improper
behavior, he just stared into the pungent brown juice in between
his hands.

Father Murphy barely contained his amusement
over his son's flustering. “I didn't mean to embarrass you, my son.
I only meant that it's obvious by the way you said her name and lit
up like a furnace when I inquired, that she not only brought you
back to me, but has made her way into your heart.”

“Oh.” Dorian looked up
after releasing the breath he had been holding in.

“I may never have
experienced the physical or emotional symptoms of infatuation, but
that doesn't mean I don't know them when I see them,” Father Murphy
added, smiling widely.

“Of course, father,” Dorian
whispered.

“Now, is it just me or is this a
conversation neither of us thought we would ever be having?”

Dorian shook his head, unleashing nervous
laughter. “No, I never would have imagined talking to you about a
girl.”

“Well, I've always heard 'never say never'.
Now please, tell me more about this Megan. I'll try my best not to
embarrass you again, although that's part of the fun of being a
father.” Father Murphy teased with a wink.

Dorian forced a smile and pondered how best
to describe Megan, his savior and love of his life, to his father.
Choosing to begin with their first meeting, he hoped by the time he
had finished, his father would understand the magnitude of her
importance. He doubted he would succeed. His description, no matter
how great, would fall short, unable to do justice to even the
simplest aspect of her character. He would try though.

“I guess I'll start with
how we met. I was...” Dorian paused, realizing with his decision
not to tell his father about his curse, a good deal of his story
would have to be left out or lied about. The first omission would
be his activities prior to meeting Megan. Keeping his father in the
dark pained him, but he saw no alternative. Looking down and
shaking his head, he attempted to play off his pause as
embarrassment. “It's kind of embarrassing, we literately ran into
each other. We were walking towards one another, both oblivious to
our surroundings when wham, I nearly knock her on her a... bottom.”
He looked up at his father to gauge his reaction to the near slip
of foul language, only receiving a smile and nod to
continue.

“I didn't think about her
for quite some time until we crossed paths again outside a little
grocery store. She accused me of stalking her.” He shook his head
thinking he had just shared too much. He couldn't help himself
though, He appreciated her boldness and its role in his redemption
and wanted his father to know this important facet of her
personality.

“Stalking, interesting,” Father Murphy
mused.

“I, of course, denied her ridiculous
accusation.”

“Of course,” Father Murphy
replied with a coy smile.

“Why are you smiling?”
Dorian asked, put off by his father's all knowing smile. “I wasn't
stalking her,” he added as convincingly as possible.

Father Murphy straightened his face. “I
believe you, son. I only smiled because I'm enjoying your story.
Please continue.”

“As I was saying, I denied her accusation,
but she didn't seem to believe me. But instead of calling the
police like a rational person, she asked me out under the ruse of
explaining myself.”

Father Murphy pursed his
lips. “Seems quite forward of her and possibly dangerous if she
makes a habit out of such behavior.”

“Exactly what I thought.” Dorian announced.
“She had no idea who I was. I could have been a criminal, a
murderer.”

“Indeed, thankfully you are neither.”

“Right! So, I meet Megan,
against my better judgment. At this point, I suspected she was
insane.” That was the truth, but not all of it. He omitted his fear
of harming her or the uselessness of getting to know her, given
what he was. “The evening turned out to be pleasant, the highlight
of the evening being her admitting she didn't make a habit out of
inviting strangers on dates.”

“That's reassuring,” Father
Murphy smiled.

“We agreed to meet again in
a week.” Dorian looked down, dreading describing what happened
next, knowing how vague he would have to be. Also he was angry with
himself over the amount of information he had given. He hadn't
planned on being so detailed with his relationship. He just wanted
to say, “I met a girl and I'm in love.” However, one of his
father's unnatural gifts was his ability to pull out details, no
matter how hard he tried to hold back. He was surprised he hadn't
readily admitted he was a vampire already to the old man. The only
reason for his ability to withhold this damning truth was his
belief it would destroy his father. That thought kept his lips
firmly closed on the topic of his curse.

“I couldn't do it though. I
stood her up. I hid in the shadows and watched her cry because I
didn’t show. I couldn't expose her to anymore of the mess that was
me.” Tears splashed against the wooden table, as Dorian hung his
head in shame.

“And you won't tell me why
you felt this way about yourself, will you?” Father Murphy asked
hopefully.

“I can't” Dorian shook his head without
raising it.

Father Murphy swallowed his disappointment
over Dorian's reluctance to confide in him. “Well then, I guess you
should continue with your story because I doubt it ends there,
seeing as how you've told me Megan is the reason for your
visit.”

“You're right.” Dorian
raised his head as he wiped away tears. “The pain I caused her
haunted me until finally, I decided to apologize.” He omitted the
brief thought of her murder as a viable solution to his guilt. “She
accepted my apology, scoffing at my excuses and insisted I wasn't
in as bad a place as I thought, as if she were some kind of shrink.
I didn't think I had a choice though, not until Megan opened my
eyes and put me in my place. She brought it bluntly to my attention
that I blamed God for my situation, for abandoning me when I had
turned away from Him. She saved me even when I wasn't even sure I
wanted or deserved to be saved. Before I met her, I thought my
numerous prayers were going unanswered, but now I realize she is
the answer. All the wrong that I believed was thrust upon me,
brought me to her and I am grateful.” Dorian sighed, relieved to
have completed his story. Now he hoped, even with the numerous
omissions, he had accurately portrayed Megan and her extraordinary
role in his life.