MARIA AND FORREST

When I got there I saw
she was devastated. She had
come home and found him lying
unconscious in the bath tub,
half immersed in blood and
water. "I'm Catholic," she said.
"I believe it is a mortal sin,
even if he doesn't. Please go see
him. He's in St. Mark's. Tell him
he must not try again."

I went. I had misgivings.
What right had I to tell
a man whose very breath
rasped his chest what he should
or shouldn't do? But her
tears had pulled from me
the promise. I went.

The room was dim,
the late afternoon sun trying
feebly to enter. He looked
at me once, then turned his
gaze away. His face was pasty pale.

"I know why you've come,"
he said. "She sent you."
"Yes," I said. A long
silence then. I broke it.
"It's your life," I told him.
"But will you promise me,
for her sake, what I know
I have no right to ask?"
He gave the merest nod.

I thanked him.
I left.