"Which bulb goes first is not up to us," said Father Anthony. "You could say it's in the hands of their Maker. We only know that both bulbs will burn out some day. How long they stay lit is not up to us either. But we do have a choice. We can ignore this burned out bulb or replace it. We can can live with Saint Cyclops here, the light shining from just one eye, waiting for him to go completely blind. Or we can fix what is wrong and experience His sacredness, the way it was meant to be. Does what I am saying make sense, Carloy?"Carlos nodded. What the priest said was true. With Emma gone, he had given up. He had been waiting for the other bulb to burn out. He had no reason to repair the icon or his life. He had no reason to live.
Father Anthony sat down once again and put an arm around the man's shoulder. "You said you intended to fix it, but perhaps you did not have the time or the interest or the tools. That is not God's doing, that choice is no one's but your own, Carloy."
Carlos could feel tears welling up in his eyes. Father Anthony paused and then continued softly, "None of us is really alone, Carloy. God is with each of us. And we have the power to ask for help with those things we cannot fix by ourselves. Would you like some help, Carloy?"
Carlos opened his mouth but could not answer. The priest's words had touched him deeply. He could only nod again in silence.
"Now, these boys on the street need our help. No one ignites their spirits. No one takes an interest in them when they become lost in darkness. But today they found something special in a forgotten old game. And they found inspiration in you, Carloy. Yes, burned out old you, who was giving up on life. We did not put them on the street, Carloy, but we can help get them off it. Will you join me two days a week as their coach? Give up a few hours of your sleep? San Lazare has toilets as well as confessionals, you know."
Carlos saw Father Anthony smile broadly as he said these words. He made Carlos want to laugh and cry at the same time. Perhaps he still did have something to do in this life. Perhaps he could help the boys.
"You have me," he said, finding his voice and extending his hand to shake Father Anthony's. "Maybe I have been too willing to live in the dark. Maybe I can be a coach for you, and do something for myself at the same time."
"I know you can, Carloy."
"And I suppose I will have to replace that old eye bulb now too."
"No," said the priest. "If you don't mind, I'd like to take the icon with me to San Lazare's. I have another coach who comes on Tuesdays to teach the street children about electricity and wiring. It will give them a project to work on. You can pick up Saint Cyclops when you come by the church on Wednesday."
After Father Anthony left with the icon under his arm, Carlos spread the towel back on the couch. He looked up at the bare space on the wall and imagined he could see Emma's own face, smiling there where her portrait of Jesus had been. When at last he laid down again for a few hour's rest, Carlos was tired and still hot, but also lighter in spirit than he had been in many months. He felt comforted by Father Anthony's parting words, "God could make a million miracles in our lifetime, but He knows that making one of your own is more important."
Sleep overcame Carlos quite soon after that. And as he slept, he dreamt of playing jai-alai in the old stadium, where a crowd of young boys cheered him on.
