All This I Will Give to You

by Dolores Redondo

with a degree in theology to tell me it’s perfectly normal for me to be angry. Of course I’m angry. I’m so damn angry that I’m surprised I don’t just explode. But more than that I’m frustrated and disgusted by all the lies. How am I not going to be in a rage when at every step of the way I get new evidence that the man I thought I knew was a complete stranger to me? A fabulously successful businessman from a family of aristocrats, Catholics devoted to the church and the whorehouse! How can I help being furious when every day I wake up with the feeling I’ll have to face another stinking pile of his shit?” He spewed out indignation. “With the added provocation that since he’s not here to explain, I’m the one who has to bear the weight of his fucking shame. And to top it off, he has the gall to will it all to me like a grand lottery prize or compensation for the insult. ‘Here you go, you’re heir to all my fucking crap.’” His bitter, resentful harangue surged forth from his innermost being like boiling bile vomited up from his deepest gut. He’d lost control. His mind fought with itself in the knowledge he’d been blinded by black wrath. He’d never felt such searing emotion; it overwhelmed him and yet strengthened him at the same time. He subsided into silence, shaking, his jaw rigid and clenched to the point of pain. He’d lost it. He needed to get away. No hope remained. “Do you really want to help me, priest?” “In whatever way you wish,” Lucas replied with a mildness in total ...