We Express Ourseleves Through Sin

Just my luck. Just my fucking luck I can't get a house. I have spent the whole morning checking ads in the paper and computers at various cafes, only to meet with two real estate agents. The first was a stocky woman with yellow hair hanging down her back. I had walked up to her door only to have her snap 'the seller has changed his mind' and shut it again. The second was a five foot tall schmuck with with slicked back grey roots followed by a horrid brown dye job. I knocked on the door. Two raps....three... four.. finally the wood swung on it's hinges just enough to see the man's left side.
"Hello sir, I saw you listed to sell that-"
"Sold it. " with that, he waddled a few steps back and began to close the door, only for my foot to block it open.
"No, I know you haven't. You put the as up two days ago. Sir-just-just please don't lie to me. Please." I begged, "I know I have some tattoos, and I probably smell like compost, but.. if you take a chance on me."
He simply shook his head "I have standards."

So that's how it had been all morning. I had slept in my stupid car parked in the lot by the park after leaving Father Way baffled in the confessional. At about six in the morning, a police officer showed up to inform me that I had 'made some joggers nervous' and 'need to leave'. He pointed me to a homeless shelter and went on his way. So, I wandered on to different lots, asking owners if I could sleep a while. No, no.. no, que? No matter what I did, I always ended up back at the church. Here I am, creeping into huge unlocked doors with a comforter. The chapel was lit up by white moonlight, so I walked around the edges, finding a pew smothered in the darkness. I threw down the blanket and laid down inside before folding the other half over me and using my arms as a pillow. It was a lot warmer than the old DeVille will ever be on a night like this and that is all I needed.

~

I jumped, flailed, screamed, and hit the floor. A black mass stood above me, shaded by the night.
"Why are you sleeping in my church?" a voice asked tiredly, Father way. How could I not expect to see him? He offered his pale hand to me and I took it, pulling the rose-covered blanket over my shoulders.
"I have to pee." I grunted, avoiding the question and walking up the aisle to the restroom with a fast pace. I stared into the mirror attached to the wall of the cold room. My short hair spiked in a thousand new directions. He must think I'm fucking crazy.. or homeless. I ran my fingers through the mess over and over and splashed water on my face. Instead of facing Father Way, I wandered into the maternity room. You know, the one where people go to nurse their little shits? I flopped into the rocking chair and stuffed the comforter all around me, laying back on the padding to think. Where do I go from here? The homeless shelter and changing towns were really my only options by now. Unless I wanted to fly low until I can find something.. I sighed, heaving up and wandering back through the girls' room, and out the door. Father Way stood patiently with his hands buried in his pockets leaning against last night's makeshift bed.
"Well?" he encouraged, knowing I didn't forget about the question. I puffed irritably and leaned on the wall across from him.
"I slept here because the car was cold." I mumbled, so low I could hardly hear it myself.
"The c- what car?" the priest asked, confused.
"The car that is serving as my house until I find one." I shrugged, acting like the thought didn't make me internally panic. I small shiver crossed over me and I pulled the blanket closer.
"Come up to my office. No use sitting in the chapel. There isn't a single seat in the place that's comfortable. I can hardly understand how you slept here." he was acting as a friend again, not a church official. I smiled and followed him up the steps to the warm room. I sat back in the red leather chair and threw my legs over the arm. Once again, he offered me wine. Once again, I declined. He sat across the desk and sipped his in a conservative manner.
"I slept in the car because the shop I work at closed and I fought with my landlord and moved out. Did you know that real estate don't generally want people that look like me living in their homes?" I laughed incredulously. "People these days, right?"
The priest nodded slowly, straightening his dumb collar.
"Hmm.." he sounded, speculating me.
"What?" I asked, picking up the green alcohol bottle and pouring my own glass despite my aforementioned protest.
"Well," he shrugged, "My first instinct as a holy man would be to help you, but I don't even know your name."
"You help people in the confessional, that's anonymous."
He chuckled. "I know who they are, voices aren't universal."
"Well, it's supposed to be anonymous," I took a long drink, "and quite frankly I am appalled that you would admit to such a thing." I faked offense and shook my head, hand on my chest.
"By the way, your confession yesterday. Not appropriate. At all." he raised a thick eyebrow at me.
"Anonymous. It's supposed to be anonymous."
"You knew I'd know who it was, regardless....... I guess what I'm trying to say is that I would like to put a name on your face." he raised his eyes to meet mine innocently.
"Ellie. Ellie Carnell." I muttered, stuck watching the odd collision of gold and green that made the color of his eyes.
He smiled and sat back in his large chair. "Well then Ellie. I would like to extend an offer to you. I have an extra room, if you would like to stay and provide your own necessities, I wouldn't mind you around."

My mouth opened and closed a few times as I stared at the man.
"Like... live with you?"
The man nodded "That's what I said."
"I- I- Father Way I don't know what to say." \
"Oh, if you don't feel comfortable- I mean, I thought it would be a nice gesture.." he scrambled. I ran my hand through my hair over and over again, thinking.
"Sure."
"Sure?"
"That's what I said, isn't it?"

Notes