was in Jason’s possession. But there was an easy explanation: gala business. There were always questions about the gala that needed to be asked or answered.
Still, when Claire got the phone back, she erased every call with a sick and pounding heart. The fear was the worst thing.
Claire wanted to go to confession, but confession was only held on Saturdays at four o’clock, and every Saturday at four o’clock J.D. had a Pop Warner football game at the Boys & Girls Club, and Claire could not miss a game. It would be worse to miss her child’s football game than not to confess to her adultery, she decided, though her desire to confess was pressing. She wasn’t sure she could actually hand the truth over to Father Dominic, the priest who had baptized all four of her children and had administered J.D.’s and Ottilie’s First Communions. Claire adored Father Dominic, she’d had him to the house for dinner numerous times, and twice the two of them had gone to the movies together—once to see Chicago and once to see Dreamgirls (Father Dominic was a big fan of musicals; Jason could not abide them). The longer Claire went without confessing, the more convinced she became that she would not be able to say the words I’m committing adultery to Father Dominic. She would have to wait for a visiting priest, whom she didn’t know and who didn’t know her, or she would confess to Father Dominic to a gamut of general sins and hope that adultery was covered among them. But somehow Claire understood that confessing would not be confessing unless she confessed to Father Dominic about Lock Dixon. Anything short of this would be a cop-out and would not count. And so she went. She left the Pop Warner game at halftime, telling Jason she had a migraine and had to go home.
He said, “Will you take Zack with you, please?”
She said, “I can’t.”
He said, “I can’t watch Zack and Shea—and Ottilie and J.D.” Ottilie was cheerleading, adorable in her N sweater and her blue and white pleated skirt. Shea was kicking a football on the sidelines, chasing it, kicking it again. Zack was whining, clawing at Claire’s neck. Claire could not in good conscience leave Jason with all of the kids, but she had to get to church.
“Okay,” she said. “I’ll take Zack.”
Father Dominic was stunned to see Claire and Zack sitting in the front pew when he exited the confessional; the surprise registered on his face. A slender, pretty young woman hurried out of the church, and Claire wondered what she had confessed and whether it was anywhere close to as appalling as what Claire was about to admit to. Father Dominic said nothing; he simply gestured to the empty booth, and Claire carried Zack in and knelt. She wished fervently that she had been born a Protestant because at that moment, owning up to this enormous sin, saying it out loud to another human being, seemed a beastly punishment.
She started in with the act of contrition. O my God, I am heartily sorry for having offended you, and I detest all my sins . . . Zack clawed at her neck. He needed his fingernails cut: it felt like he was drawing blood. Claire took a deep breath. She eyed Father Dominic, whose head was bowed in prayer. She was trembling, as terrified as she’d ever been in her life. What was she afraid of? She was afraid he would hate her. He saw her, not every week, but many weeks, in church with the kids. He thought her to be a devout person; he had called her daily when Zack was in the hospital in Boston and had prayed with her over the phone. Now he would see her for who she truly was.
“I’m committing adultery,” Claire said. She expected Father’s head to pop up, she awaited his aghast expression, but he was still. She was grateful for this stillness, this posture of acceptance. “I’m having an affair with Lockhart Dixon.” Claire said his name because not to say his name felt like holding back a part of the truth. Claire had no idea if Father Dominic knew Lock—Lock was a member of Saint Paul’s Episcopal. They might have known each other through one of Nantucket’s Children’s programs.
Father Dominic remained still. Claire closed her eyes. “That’s all,” she whispered. Zack started to cry.
When Father Dominic raised his head, his expression was blank. In regard to confession,