The Cloud Atlas

So I asked to confess, and instead of saying yes, Father Pabich looked at me strangely. He knew something was afoot, and when he turned to look around the room, he thought he knew what, or who: Lily had appeared in the doorway.

As horrible as that moment was-Father Pabich assuming I'd hurriedly asked for confession because I'd caught sight of my illicit lover-that picture of Lily in the doorway is one of my favorites. I carry it around in my head as if a photograph actually existed. The lighting is poor, but she's clear enough, and beautiful.

She had changed: she was wearing a long, dark coat (cashmere?), the collar trimmed with fur, a matching hat, long black gloves-but pretty, Park Avenue gloves that must have been useless against the cold. She was wearing equally pretty but useless boots, and was carrying a tiny black purse.

It's her face I remember best. She wasn't smiling. No, much better, she was worried. Thinking back on it now, I suppose she had plenty to be worried about-she was a woman, alone, on base, and her Eskimo features would have only made her the subject of increased attention and prejudice. But all I was thinking about then was that she was worried about me.

All the relative splendor that had caught my eye had caught Father Pabich's as well. Her appearance and my sudden desire for confession combined to convince him of one thing: she was a prostitute. He didn't say this, but he didn't have to. Lily wore all that finery and no wedding ring, and that was proof enough for him. As corroboration, a semiconscious guy a few beds down gave a low whistle. Father Pabich shot him a look and Lily ignored them both. She took off her hat, peered into the room. She saw me, took a step, saw Father Pabich, hesitated, but only a second, and then came over to the bed.

She nodded to Father Pabich first. “Father,” she said quietly, and already, he was won over, just a little bit.

“Louis?” she said next, looking toward me.

I looked her up and down and grinned. “Who in the world arej you?”

She grinned back, but then Father Pabich said, “Indeed.”

“Oh, gosh, it's okay, Father, I'm just joking,” I said, not quite yet realizing how much trouble I was in, or that we all would soon be in. “I know her. This is Lily,” I said, and then made things worse. “I'm just not used to seeing her, you know, dressed-this way.”

Lily pursed her lips. The whistler whistled. Father Pabich spoke: “Not another note, whistling soldier-or I tell the lady here, and the whole damn ward, just where it was you got operated on.” The man blanched and tried to roll over. “Perhaps a chair for your guest?” Father Pabich asked me. For a second, I thought he meant me to get up and fetch it for her. Perhaps he did, but I didn't move, and he turned and dragged one from beside an empty bed.

“I'm not staying long,” Lily said.

“No,” Father Pabich said, and then, after a perfectly timed pause, added, “I imagine that gets expensive.”

It got really quiet then, except for over at the whistler's bed, where two tiny words floated up: “Jesus Christ.”

“F-F-F-ather,” I whispered.

Father Pabich and Lily stared at each other, neither giving quarter. I saw Lily decide to smack him and then decide to back off. I saw Father Pabich determine to add further insult and then decide to remain quiet. Then Lily spoke, a short string of something I didn't understand. She'd said it so softly, and in such a rush, that I took whatever she was saying to be in Yup'ik. Profane Yup'ik.

Father Pabich stared at her, flabbergasted. I did as well. I was embarrassed how she was reinforcing the fact that she wasn't white-and I was embarrassed that she was cursing him in some Eskimo language that only she understood.

“I'm sorry, Father,” I broke in. “She's-she's Yup'ik, and that's her”-I glared at Lily, but she didn't look at me-“and that's just her way of saying-”

“That I'm an ass,” Father Pabich said.

“Well, no,” I said.

“As are you,” he said. “Yup'ik,” he added, and shook his head. “Qui sine peccato est vestrum primus in illam lapidem mittat,” he said to me. “That's what she said. That sound like Eskimo?”

I shook my head. “What part of the Mass is that from?”

“It's from the Bible, dipsh-,” he said, and caught himself. “Can you translate it for him?” Father Pabich asked Lily. She said nothing. “Of course you can,” he added, lowering his eyes, involuntarily deferential. “What she said was ‘Let him who is without sin among you be the first to throw a stone at her.’ An odd verse to memorize in Latin, but there you are: John, chapter seven.”

Finally, Lily smiled. “Eight,” she said.

“Somewhere, a nun is smiling,” Father Pabich said.

“Not in my experience,” Lily replied. “I'll come back,” she said to me, and then extended her hand to Father Pabich. “It was nice meeting you, Father.” Father Pabich let the hand dangle there a moment, and then he shook it, cautiously.