plonks the pizza in the middle of the table, slaps a small plate in front of each of us, and stalks off.
I giggle at Shane.
‘I told you what she’s like,’ he says.
We both laugh.
The pizza is beautifully simple and delicious. Once Shane has paid our bill, we walk out and start walking uphill. It is hot, and the hill is steep, but we get to the top. We stand outside the majestic old church, Notre-Dame d’Espérance, and look down at the stunning view over the bay.
‘Want to go into the church?’ Shane asks.
‘OK.’
We pass through the old doors, and inside it feels like we have entered a different world. Even the air is cold enough to make me shiver. The stone walls give the impression of damp chill, and the air is hushed and still. Our footsteps echo. Afternoon sunlight falls dustily from high stained-glass windows into the dim interior and lays in milky shapes of color on the floor. It is deserted except for a woman with a black shawl on her head, bowed in prayer in one of the front pews. She does not turn to look at us. I look at the vast, high-ceilinged space in awe.
‘Vellichor much?’ Shane whispers next to me.
I glance up at him. ‘No, I love it. This is far better than any used bookshop.’
He looks at me strangely. ‘Are you messing with me?’
‘No, I’m serious. Ever since this place was built, people have been coming here bringing all their pain, sadness, hopes, gratitude, and joy. The stones have absorbed it. Hundreds of years of human emotion. Can you not feel it?’
He stands very still for a few moments, then looks down at me. ‘Nope.’
‘Shame,’ I whisper, and move forward.
He follows me. ‘Have you never been to a church before?’
‘No. My mother is a non-practicing Christian so she never took us to church. However, I begged and harassed my nanny until she gave in and took me to the temple with her in secret.’
‘How old were you then?’
‘My first trip was when I was five.’
‘Are you a Hindu then?’
‘No. As a child I didn’t go to temple to pray. I just loved my nanny so much, I couldn’t bear to be parted from her for any length of time. Plus, I enjoyed the trip because it was colorful and the priest allowed me to ring the bell.’
We find ourselves at a side altar with burning candles, and Shane turns to me. ‘Do you want to light a candle?’
‘What does it signify?’
‘It’s a symbol of your prayer that carries on burning even after you are gone.’
I remember Chitra lighting oil lamps and asking her why she was lighting them, and I still recall her answer. Sweet Chitra. I miss her so. ‘It is a way of asking for something from God. The fire lifts your prayer up to God,’ she said.
I look up at Shane. ‘Yes, I’d like to leave a prayer here.’
He drops a note into the donation box slot and takes two candles out. He passes one to me, and we stand side by side and light our candles solemnly. I watch Shane place his in its holder, and I close my eyes and pray. I pray like I’ve never prayed. I pray to any god, Hindu or Christian, who will listen. I ask the stones to absorb my prayer and keep it safe after I am gone and even when the candle burns out. I pray for a bright, silent intercession from the heavens that my actions harm neither Lenny nor Shane.
I open my eyes and see another candle about to sputter out. It seems to grasp desperately for its last breaths of life. I cannot watch it die. I look up at Shane. He is watching me avidly. ‘Can we buy another candle?’
His eyebrows rise, but he puts another note into the box and takes another candle out and gives it to me. I light the candle using the fire of the prayer that is about to sputter out, and plant it next to it. I watch the new flame take over and then I turn to Shane and smile. ‘Shall we go?’
We go out into the afternoon air. It is warm and full of the smell of the sea.
‘Feel like an ice cream?’ he asks.
‘Lead the way, sir.’
‘Step this way, madam, for
I giggle at Shane.
‘I told you what she’s like,’ he says.
We both laugh.
The pizza is beautifully simple and delicious. Once Shane has paid our bill, we walk out and start walking uphill. It is hot, and the hill is steep, but we get to the top. We stand outside the majestic old church, Notre-Dame d’Espérance, and look down at the stunning view over the bay.
‘Want to go into the church?’ Shane asks.
‘OK.’
We pass through the old doors, and inside it feels like we have entered a different world. Even the air is cold enough to make me shiver. The stone walls give the impression of damp chill, and the air is hushed and still. Our footsteps echo. Afternoon sunlight falls dustily from high stained-glass windows into the dim interior and lays in milky shapes of color on the floor. It is deserted except for a woman with a black shawl on her head, bowed in prayer in one of the front pews. She does not turn to look at us. I look at the vast, high-ceilinged space in awe.
‘Vellichor much?’ Shane whispers next to me.
I glance up at him. ‘No, I love it. This is far better than any used bookshop.’
He looks at me strangely. ‘Are you messing with me?’
‘No, I’m serious. Ever since this place was built, people have been coming here bringing all their pain, sadness, hopes, gratitude, and joy. The stones have absorbed it. Hundreds of years of human emotion. Can you not feel it?’
He stands very still for a few moments, then looks down at me. ‘Nope.’
‘Shame,’ I whisper, and move forward.
He follows me. ‘Have you never been to a church before?’
‘No. My mother is a non-practicing Christian so she never took us to church. However, I begged and harassed my nanny until she gave in and took me to the temple with her in secret.’
‘How old were you then?’
‘My first trip was when I was five.’
‘Are you a Hindu then?’
‘No. As a child I didn’t go to temple to pray. I just loved my nanny so much, I couldn’t bear to be parted from her for any length of time. Plus, I enjoyed the trip because it was colorful and the priest allowed me to ring the bell.’
We find ourselves at a side altar with burning candles, and Shane turns to me. ‘Do you want to light a candle?’
‘What does it signify?’
‘It’s a symbol of your prayer that carries on burning even after you are gone.’
I remember Chitra lighting oil lamps and asking her why she was lighting them, and I still recall her answer. Sweet Chitra. I miss her so. ‘It is a way of asking for something from God. The fire lifts your prayer up to God,’ she said.
I look up at Shane. ‘Yes, I’d like to leave a prayer here.’
He drops a note into the donation box slot and takes two candles out. He passes one to me, and we stand side by side and light our candles solemnly. I watch Shane place his in its holder, and I close my eyes and pray. I pray like I’ve never prayed. I pray to any god, Hindu or Christian, who will listen. I ask the stones to absorb my prayer and keep it safe after I am gone and even when the candle burns out. I pray for a bright, silent intercession from the heavens that my actions harm neither Lenny nor Shane.
I open my eyes and see another candle about to sputter out. It seems to grasp desperately for its last breaths of life. I cannot watch it die. I look up at Shane. He is watching me avidly. ‘Can we buy another candle?’
His eyebrows rise, but he puts another note into the box and takes another candle out and gives it to me. I light the candle using the fire of the prayer that is about to sputter out, and plant it next to it. I watch the new flame take over and then I turn to Shane and smile. ‘Shall we go?’
We go out into the afternoon air. It is warm and full of the smell of the sea.
‘Feel like an ice cream?’ he asks.
‘Lead the way, sir.’
‘Step this way, madam, for
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