Carlos knew he was falling into a trap, but there was nothing he could say to dissuade the priest. Minutes later, they entered the tiny apartment together. Carlos gathered up the towels to offer his guest a seat on the couch."It looks like our friend Jesus has been keeping an eye on you," Father Anthony remarked with a smile when he saw the icon.
"I've been meaning to fix that," Carlos replied, "but... well... not many guests come here here nowdays."
"It is just not the same without Ems around, is it, Carloy? You miss her. I can feel her absence here in this apartment, and also here, in your heart."
Father Anthony reached out to touch Carlos' chest as he uttered these words, his fingers resting almost exactly where the tennis ball had hit. Carlos lowered his head and murmured, "Are my feelings so easy to read?"
"I know you Carloy," said the priest. "You rarely ever came to mass, and I know you always avoided confession, but your wife spoke of you often and of the great sadness in your life."
"What sadness?" Carlos asked. "I was happy when Ems was alive. Life was not always easy for us, but we had many good years together."
"Many childless years," said the priest. "Emma told me how much you wanted to have a family. She prayed and prayed for children, but she was never able to give you that."
"I never blamed her," Carlos said. "It was God's will."
"Is that how you feel, Carloy? Do you blame God?" Father Anthony was obviously after something from him, and Carlos sensed it was more than coaching handball.
"No," said Carlos. "I don't blame God. I don't blame anyone. It's just the way things turned out, that's all."
"Then why did you say it was God's will?"
Carlos sighed and answered, "Emma seemed in such good health before she died. The stroke came so suddenly. It has been difficult for me to understand. I guess only God decides who lives and who dies, just as He decides who should be a jeepney driver and who should be a jai-alai star. And God also decides who shall have sons, and who shall have daughters, and who shall have no children at all, doesn't he? I am in no position to complain of this fate. I cannot blame God."
"But you are," said the priest. "I can see it here in this room, and there in your eyes. By withdrawing from life, you are blaming God, Carloy. You are complaining through your silence. And you are denying the blessing He has given you. If God wants poor children off the street, He may want you to play a role in guiding them, as a coach if not as a father. He has obviously given you the talent to teach them. They seem to like you and trust you, which is a huge step. You would be very good at it, Carloy. And it could be good for you too."
Carlos reached down and picked up the glass jar from the floor. He explained to Father Anthony how his urinary problem had forced him to change jobs. He could not trust himself to be away from a toilet for more than an hour at most.
"So Father, please tell me, if God really wanted me to coach handball at San Lazare's, why send this illness to me? Am I being tested, like Job? If so, I'm afraid I'm not worthy."
Father Anthony looked at Carlos and saw the sad resignation in his eyes. There was still faith in this man, but what little remained was in danger of being lost. The priest then looked up at the icon on the wall and saw the hollowness of the one eye contrasted by the bright, shining light of the other. After a long pause, he said, "Tell me, Carloy. Do you pray before this one-eyed image of Jesus?"
Carlos looked up at the icon and admitted with some embarassment that he did.
"Perhaps," said Father Anthony, "this icon is trying to tell us something." The priest then stood up and pointed to the unlit eye. "Why do you suppose the bulb burned out on the left and not the right?"
Carlos had no idea why one would burn out before the other. Did left or right have special meaning? Was this also an example of God's will?
