I’D LIKE TO CLAIM THAT I devote the drive time to the meeting to prayer, but I do not. I try several times, but I can’t seem to concentrate. My mind is a whirlwind of thoughts, images, snatches of memory, and sounds, all a mixed up jumble that I cannot slow down long enough to grasp. All the adrenaline that’s surged through my body over the last twenty-four hours—has it really only been one day since all this started?—is backed up in my system. I am trapped in some sort of perpetual fight or flight mode. Helen and the Archbishop talk, but I concentrate on trying to calm my mind.
It refuses to cooperate. Instead, I only get more agitated as time passes. I’m a coiled spring waiting to explode at the slightest provocation
After being relieved of his parish duties, Father Xavier was evicted
