Jason followed Maureen to one side of the room, where there were no tables, and the men couldn’t hear the two of them talk. She was slender, but with a pronounced curve at her hips, and breasts that jutted out from her chest, threatening to push her jacket open. She looked at him with her green eyes, and he tried to avoid looking at her pretty face, or the dusting of freckles like copper glitter on her skin. Being this close to her made him feel like he was on crack, and he thought of the song by the Police, where the schoolteacher has a crush on a student, but is forced to tell her, “Don’t stand so close to me,” because others are watching.

“Is something wrong, Father Jason?” she asked.

“Wrong?” he thought, “Like the fact that I’m not a priest, but everyone keeps calling me Father Jason, which makes me a fraud?”

“You’ve been avoiding me all night.” She looked saddened. “It’s like you want to have nothing to do with me.”

‘No, it’s not that,” he protested, although it exactly was that. “It’s just that, as a leader at the shelter, I can’t afford to have it look like I’m, uh, too close to a minor.”

The truth was that he was attracted to this young girl and couldn’t trust himself around her.

“Oh, that’s the problem.” The young redhead looked relieved. “I got held back two years in school. I’m 18 years old. Cross my heart.” When she drew an ‘X’ over her chest, Jason was drawn to the sight of her breasts swelling in her blouse and averted his eyes.

“Okay, well that’s a relief. I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings. It’s just that I’m new here, and I have to think about your reputation, and mine.” Jason was glad to learn she was 18, but why was that? Was it because that meant she was suddenly in play? Even if she was 18, and technically legal, she was still a child.

Jason went over to the Stefanellis, who were packing up to take their cart and the empty pot back to the restaurant. ‘Thanks so much, Mr. and Mrs. Stefanelli. The men all loved it, said it was the best meal ever. How much do I owe you?”

“Nah,” the slim man declined with a wave of his hand. “It’s for the church. On the house. I not gonna charge you.”

His portly wife smiled in agreement.

“No, look, you not only served spaghetti, but bread, and even wine on top of that.” Jason removed the money from his pocket and tried to give it to the man, but he stubbornly refused. “Your wife said you’ve been closed down for three days. You certainly can use the money.”

“We gonna give it to the church,” his wife said.

Jason couldn’t let them donate everything, especially because the restaurant had been closed, and they must be hurting financially. “I tell you what, why don’t you use this money to buy ingredients for the next meal you make for the shelter?”

“Okay,” Angelo agreed, and reluctantly took the money. “For next time.”

“Great.” Jason patted the man on the back. “Hey, Dwight, Grady, you think you guys can help the Stefanellis here? Thanks.”

The two men came over to help the Italian couple get their cart and pot up the basement steps and down the sidewalk to the restaurant. Jason spied Sister Mildred, who was putting dirty plates and silverware into a basket, accompanied by Maureen.

“The…” Sister Mildred started to say something but glanced at her niece beside her. “…illegitimate children locked the kitchen, so we’re going ta have ta wash the dishes outside at the faucet.”

Jason took off his jacket and unbuttoned his shirt cuffs so he could roll up his sleeves. “Let me help you.” Jason carried the basket full of dishes up the stairs, while Maureen brought an empty basket for the clean dishes. They set down everything next to the faucet jutting out of the brick wall of the church. Jason helped the two ladies rinse off and dry the plates and silverware.

“I managed to come up with the money for dinner tonight,” Jason told the two, and he felt a thrill when he handed Maureen a rinsed plate and their hands touched. “But I don’t know where I’m going to get the money for the next one.”

“We’ve got cash on hand ta cover us for a few meals, but that’s all.” Sister Mildred ran a wet washcloth over a plate before handing it to her redheaded niece. “Father Milligan’s money went ta the construction of all the buildings, but there was little left over for operating expenses.”

“How am I going to get the money to keep the shelter running?” Jason wondered. He had an idea, which he almost dismissed as too crazy, but he remembered that it was a game, and he might as well go for it.

* * *

“Is there something wrong if I’m attracted to a girl who’s only 18?”

Gramps sat down with his drink and handed one to Jason. “Mine is a rum and soda, but yours is a rum and tonic.”

Jason took a sip of his drink. “To be honest, I thought rum and tonic was a crazy choice, that it would be too bitter, but this is perfect. It tastes like a cream soda.”

“I used to drink it all the time before I switched to rum and soda.” Gramps leaned back and enjoyed the warmth from the space heater next to the couch. Now that it was December, the weather was definitely cold. “Getting to your question, Filipinos have a saying, ‘Even the old carabao likes the fresh, sweet grass.’ Instinctively, you’re attracted to youth and beauty: every man is.”

“Even underage women?”

“No, of course not.” His grandfather shook his head firmly. “You’re attracted to women who are the most fertile, which rules out women who are too young or too old. Any man who’s attracted to either of those two groups, who are too young or too old to have children, won’t pass on his genes, so nature tends to weed out those attractions.”

“But I’m 23, and she’s only 18.” Even though he and his grandfather were close friends, Jason hesitated to confess his attraction to Maureen.

“When I first decided to retire in the Philippines, I was 57 years old, and my girlfriend was 18.”

The revelation stunned Jason, who knew that his grandfather had taken an early retirement to go to the Philippines, and only returned to the United States to get his affairs in order. Jason figured that the Midas Game was among those affairs.

“Look, to be perfectly honest, she’s got to be using you for your money.” Jason pursed his lips. “I mean, I hate to say it, Gramps.”

“No, it’s okay. We can talk freely.” Gramps looked at Jason. “You think the same thought didn’t occur to me? I couldn’t figure out why someone so young and good looking was with an old guy like me, so one day I just asked her. She said that she had seen too many Filipinas with Filipino boyfriends or husbands who cheated on them, or got them pregnant and left them, or who spent all their money on booze, cigarettes, and gambling, leaving the woman struggling to feed the kids and pay the bills. So she decided at an early age that she wanted to be with a foreigner.”

“Filipinas are scammers.” Jason shook his head. “No offense, but they just want your money.”

“You think there aren’t scammers here in the US? You think any woman here in the US is going to date you without carefully examining your income and your earnings potential?” His grandfather became impassioned as he spoke. “Wherever there’s women, there’s scammers. Yes, I see foreigners get scammed all the time on the Philippines. But I see other couples, almost always an older foreign man, and a younger, beautiful Filipina, and those relationships work, complete with children, and those relationships are happy.”

“57 and 18. That’s just hard for me to wrap my head around.” Jason took a drink and tried to figure it out.

“I was where you’re at now, trying to make sense of it. I finally realized that men want youth and beauty, while women want a man with wealth and status, and those drives are so strong that age isn’t an obstacle.” His grandfather pointed a finger at Jason. “The reason you feel ashamed is that women want you to feel ashamed. They want you to get married, work your ass off to pay the bills, and not get any wild ideas about young, beautiful women. I see it all the time in the Philippines, where guys are with older, unattractive women because they’re too ashamed to admit they want a woman who’s young and beautiful.”

“I think I get your point,” Jason confessed. “I mean, it’s only a video game, and she’s 18 years old, which is perfectly legal, but I can’t get past a feeling of shame, like there’s something wrong with me for being attracted to her.”

“That’s exactly how they want you to feel. They shame you so you won’t be an uppity Negro and get any crazy ideas about young, beautiful women, or more than one woman; so you’ll just shut up, keep your head down, and take a seat at the back of the bus. Don’t do it.”

* * *

“You think I was right to let the Stefanellis serve wine tonight?” Jason asked as they re-entered the basement and he helped put away the dishes and silverware.

“The men sure liked it,” Maureen observed, and Jason was drawn to the sight of her taught calves and flat stomach as she rose up on her toes to put away a stack of plates.

Sister Mildred sighed and adjusted her glasses. “The plain truth is that the men are drinking a lot stronger hooch than a cup of wine. Anytime they’re not drinking rotgut whiskey, that’s a good thing.”

“That’s good to hear.” Jason handed Sister Mildred a handful of spoons. “But I’m afraid I botched the sermon and the prayer.”

“It was short and sweet,” Maureen chimed in. “The men were happy, and I think they’re more likely to listen if they know the message is short and to the point. Nobody likes long, droning sermons.”

“Well, sometimes those ‘long, droning sermons’ have plenty a teachin’ in ‘em, which is a pure blessin’ ta the listener,” Sister Mildred countered.

So Jason figured his message was a failure in the nun’s eyes. He grabbed a handful of forks and handed them to the sister, who ran a dry cloth over them.

“But then, you’ve got a different way a doin’ things, and I think it’s workin’.” Sister Mildred adopted a confidential tone. “It’s early, but I think the men have taken a shine ta ya.”

“True,’ Maureen agreed. “I think everyone has taken a shine ta ya.” She smiled at Jason, which made him wonder if she was subtly including herself in “everyone.”

“I’ve got an idea to raise money for the shelter,” Jason said, but felt uncertain and hesitant.

“Oh, and what’s that?” Sister Mildred perked up and looked at him through her thick glasses.

“Boxing.” Jason looked down at the basket so he wouldn’t have to meet their eyes. “Why not follow in ‘The Fighting Father’ Milligan’s footsteps?”

“Why, Father Jason, that’s a grand idea,” the sister replied enthusiastically. “That’d be a fittin’ tribute ta the late father.”

“Plus, the publicity itself will help raise funds for the shelter,” Maureen added.

Jason was impressed with the young lady’s intelligence. What she said was true: people would be fascinated with the idea of a priest trading blows in the ring, which was bound to draw attention to the shelter and help bring in contributions.

“Well ladies, it’s time for me to hit the hay.” He suppressed a yawn as he got his coat and climbed the stairs out of the basement, then made his way to the father’s room in the rectory. Once in the room, he was troubled at the thought of the father’s brutal murder, and looked at the spot on the floor where the priest lay beneath a sheet, but soon fell asleep.

He was awakened in the middle of the night by a loud knocking on his door. Jason roused himself and slowly walked to the door, which vibrated from the insistent pounding. Upon opening the door, Jason was surprised by the sight of Sister Mildred in a nightgown, wearing an anguished expression.

“It’s Maureen!” the sister wailed. “She’s gone!”