Joe came up to the counter. “What can I get for you?”

“A cheese calzone, please.” After ordering, she fidgeted nervously. She caught me looking at her. 

I gave her a smile. She forced a smile and looked the other way. I noticed the scars on her wrist. “How are the calzones here, any good?” I asked.

She turned her head, surprised by my question. “Yeah, they’re pretty good.”

“I haven’t had a calzone in ages.” I said.

She did not respond.

“Don’t I know you from somewhere?” I asked.

Her head whipped around. She looked me over. “Aren’t you a priest or something? You’re not supposed to be hitting on women are you?”

I blushed a bit. “I’m sorry. But, I’m not hitting on you. I was just ordained a priest today, as a matter of fact.”

“Well, fact is ‘Don’t I know you from somewhere?’ is the lamest pickup line in history,” she said. “Besides for all I know, you could be some psycho pretending to be a priest.”

I laughed. It caught her by surprise. 

Joe came to counter with her calzone. 

“Thanks,” she said.

I extended my hand to her. “My name is Fr. Oliver. I’m not a psycho. I promise.”

She shook my hand. “Clare.”

“Nice to meet you, Clare.” 

She blew on her calzone to cool it off a bit before biting into it. “So, what made you become a priest? She looked me over again. “Kind of a waste if you ask me.”

“It’s just something I always wanted to do. It’s a little hard to explain. It became kind of an obsession. I just had to do it.”

She took a bite of her calzone. “You’re a psycho. You gave up sex.” She said as she chewed her food.

“Sometimes you have to give up something to get what you really want. For me, it was to become a priest.”

She shook her head. “Whatever. I couldn’t do it.”

“I know, you couldn’t even if you wanted to. They don’t allow women to become priest.”

“That’s bullshit,” she said. “Was that a God thing, or did some frustrated old fart make up that stupid rule?”

I laughed again at her response which made her smile. “It’s complicated,” I said. “But that’s the way it is. In my heart, I don’t believe it was a God thing. Your old fart theory might merit further investigation.” 

“I don’t believe in God anyway,” she said, as she took a sip of her soda. “No offense, I just don’t think a God would let so much bad crap happen if he really existed.”

“What kind of bad crap are you talking about?”  I asked.