The Confession 

Mac remembered that day as if it was yesterday. He held it in his mind and heart for so long. He kept his secret intact with the help of rot-gut liquor such as, Irish Diamonds, Canadian Mist and Clan MacGregor. He befriended a young bartender by the name of Emily Welch. She had the same ginger color hair his used to be before it turned a light reddish gray-white tone. A good portion of his hair had thinned out considerably where the crown was a bald pate. His clean-shaven face now sported a heavy white beard. 

His Christened name given to him by his mother was John MacDougal, but his friends, the ones in this very bar, called him Mac. It was twenty years now but he still remembered that day. He looked at her pouring drinks and handing out bottles of beer to the regulars after getting off work. Twenty years to the day since it happened, Mac reminded himself. 

Emily was the antitheses of Mac. Her shoulder length red hair curled naturally framing her white face with slight blushing of her cheeks. Her infectious smile showed pearly white teeth, nearly perfect. She had an upturned nose and emerald eyes that seemed almost bewitching. Mac had the same-colored eyes. She was tall and slender and conveyed confidence every time she walked about the bar. 

Mac watched her with blurry, blood-shot eyes, in a father-like manner. He smiled after her as she opened a beer bottle for a new regular named Fred. She laughed at Fred’s attempt at a joke, maybe a compliment? Mac wasn’t listening to the conversation, so he couldn’t hazard why she laughed. Mac turned his head to the character, a fat man with heavy jowls and dark beady eyes. 

“Mac? You want one more?” Emily asked. 

Mac’s thoughts revolved around his past and he didn’t hear her. So much like Sally-Ann. But she did address him, didn’t she? “What?” 

“Oh Mac, you are incorrigible! I asked if you would like one more?” 

“Oh sure, sorry. How was your day at school?” 

Her back was to him as she replied, “It’s good, hon.” She was a pre-legal major at Gonzaga, a small college in Spokane, Washington. “I got finals next week to study for. So, you boys will have to suffer with Ray next week. I won’t have time to babysit you guys.” 

A roar of disapproval and laughter filled the bar as she turned around and placed the shot glass in front of Mac. She smiled at the group of mostly blue-collar construction workers and laborers. “Five dollars honey.” 

Mac pulled out his change and counted out the money. 

“Mac, never mind. I got you this time, okay?” Emily told him as she pulled a five-dollar bill from the tip jar and set it inside the till. 

“Thanks, Emily. I promise I’ll pay you back on payday.” 

“Of course you will honey,” she told him in a sing-song voice that amused him. 

Mac admired her figure. She reminded him so much of her mother. How long, he wondered, twenty years ago? He remembered that night when he heard what happened. That event so infuriated him, he couldn’t think. He nursed this one. It was going to be his last one. He needed to get this off his chest and he needed to be at least sober enough to tell her the truth.  

He had wanted to many times before, but his courage left him and be became angry and drunker and ended up going home instead. Not tonight, he promised himself as he moved the glass of amber potent potable. It now rested just outside his peripheral vision. This way, he reasoned, I can make it last until she calls closing time. 

He focused on the inane shows on TV, mostly reality fare that insulted his intelligence. The audio was muted and that suited him fine. It showed scantily clad men and women performing stunts for their team. He looked about the other men in the tavern becoming louder and drunker. Slowly each man called it a day.  

By eleven it was just them, Mac and Emily. She busied herself cleaning the place, wiping tables and the bar, pulling out a wide blue padded mop and slowly pushing the dust to the storage room behind the bar. Mac watched her. He downed the last of his whisky and pushed the empty glass toward her. 

Emily came back out and placed the shot glass in a glass washing machine. She turned it on, and a humming sound came out from the bar. “Are you about ready to call it a night, Mac?” 

“Yeah…no I got something I need to get off my chest.” 

“Really? What’s that?” 

The door swung open and a group of five men came in. The hairs on the back of Mac’s neck stood on end. None belonged here. They appeared like strangers from another town. “Hey there sweety! How about getting us a pitcher of beer? We’re darn thirsty!” 

Emily smiled but Mac could plainly see she wasn’t pleased. “I’m sorry, last call was an hour ago. You might wanna try Swinging Doors. They’re opened late.” Mac saw the disappointment from the other four, but the boisterous and largest man in the group, the one who ordered the pitcher apparently considered her reply as a challenge. 

“Yeah, right. Come on, get us a pitcher. I’ll make it worth your trouble, later,” he laughed. His companions laughed too but not with the energy of their friend. 

Mac arose from his stool and said in a low growl, “The lady told you that we’re closed. Just go back out of here and find yourself another bar to make a fool of yourselves.” 

“Lady? Yeah, right,” the loudmouth stated with glint in his brown eyes. “She’s just another slut, like all the other sluts who work here.” He went toward Mac, then turned to Emily. “Now, are you gonna get me and my friends here a beer, or am I going to get nasty and make you?” 

“I don’t believed I stuttered the last time I informed you that we are closed,” Mac moved into the bigger man’s face. Mac saw the belligerence, smelled the alcohol, noted he had twenty years his junior and most likely had every possible advantage at his disposal. 

“I heard you old man. And you know what? I don’t much care. This bitch is gonna serve me and my friends or I’ll hurt you and her really bad. Then I’ll still get my beer and watch this place burn to the ground with you two inside.” Mac saw his black hair, a thin jagged scar that ran along his cheek, the too small t-shirt that enhanced his muscular upper torso. Mac never took his eyes off this person. 

“Come on Pete, this ain’t funny no more,” one of his friends called out.  

“Yeah Pete, let’s go to that Swinging Doors like she suggested,” another suggested to Pete. 

Mac smiled at him. “Yeah Pete, apparently your friends are smarter than you,” Mac told him as he flexed and unflexed his hands into balled up fists. 

“Mac don’t,” he heard Emily plead. “Please don’t.” 

“What is this old drunk gonna do?” Pete sneered. “He can’t beat himself out of a paper sack. I’ll chew him up and spit him out. Then I’m gonna fuck your brains out bitch! You’ll like that won’t you?” 

Mac’s breathing moved in and out deeply. His eyes became pinpointed. His nostrils flared. He waited for him to make his move. “Do what you want then. I’m ready, Pete.” 

A thunderous percussion cut the still air. A surprised exclamation came from Pete’s lips. He briefly turned and stared at Emily. Mac also turned in her direction. Pete seemingly wilted to the floor. Mac saw her expression. It reminded him of her mother’s expression the next morning that he remembered so well. He then saw the Glock in her tiny hands. He heard the other four men make their exits, cursing and crying as they left. 

“God dammit, Emily! What did you do?” Mac shouted at her. He saw her hands trembling. He briefly looked down at the still body then rushed around the bar and took the semi-automatic pistol from her and placed it on the bar. 

“I thought he was going to kill you! He threatened me. You heard him! He wanted to kill you and rape me! YOU HEARD HIM!” Her screams became hysterical. Her eyes wild and unfocused, her cheeks flushed, tears streamed down her face.  

Mac grabbed her and held her. She fell onto his thick and massive frame and held him to her. “I’ll take the blame,” he told her. “When they discover the truth, it will make sense.” 

“What truth?” She asked, bewildered. The sobs subsided. “Mac, you were going to tell me something earlier that you wanted off your chest. Please tell me what it is before the cops show up. You know one of those guys probably called 9-1-1. Please tell me.” 

Mac sighed and then released himself from her. He sat back on his stool. He hunched over and took a deep breath. “Dear Jesus, forgive me for what I’m about to confess,” he prayed looking up at the ceiling. 

“You’re really freaking me out here Mac!” 

“I know, I’m sorry. Did your mom ever show you pictures of your father?” 

The look of dismay spoke volumes to Mac. “ There was one of a young boy posing with her in front of an old car. No, I was told he died in an accident.” 

“No, that was a lie. I’m your father, Emily. But that’s only part of it.” 

“You? Is that why you come here to this place, drink yourself stupid and go home only after I’ve closed? You are something else! I don’t believe you!” 

“Emily, please, let me tell you everything. I do remember everything.” His eyes pleaded with her. Initially she blanched and turned away from him. Then she turned around and nodded. She walked slowly to a table and sat down. 

“Come here and tell me,” she told him in a whisper. 

Mac moved from his familiar perch and sat at the table in a chair across from her. “Twenty years ago, your mother and I were very much in love. She was just out of high school, and I was a philosophy major at Gonzaga. I was preparing to enter the seminary upon graduation. 

“One day, we went to a movie together and I’m not certain what followed but either she or I had to leave in the middle of the movie. But, we weren’t alone, my best friend, Chuck was there too. I’m not sure she more than likely said I left first. I don’t know at this point who; doesn’t much matter anymore anyway. I was there alone in the theater when I realized Chuck wasn’t here either. My best friend.” 

“What happened?” 

“I never saw her again that night and went home to my dorm. I called her the next morning, and she was crying hysterically as you just done after shooting that man over there.” His head swung in the direction of Pete’s dead body. 

“I went to her apartment. Her parents, upon finding out we were having a relationship, kicked her out. The diocese saw fit to find her a place. It was then she told me that she was going to have you. She then told me a man assaulted her. She was raped. She feared losing you and never went to the police to report this. 

“I was beyond angry. ‘Who did this?’ I demanded. She swore she never seen him before, but his breath smelled of white wine, a sweet, nauseating smell, she admitted. Then she handed me a rosery. She said the rapist left it behind, either as a calling card or by some accident I was never certain. But I immediately recognize it. But I was confused and not certain why that rosery was left there. Was it his?” 

“What did you do?” 

“I first went to confession. I wanted to seek counseling to do the right thing. Though she didn’t admit who it was, I suspected it was Chuck, my best friend. It’s funny how one’s paths cross at a time like this. After I sought out the priest and asked him what I could or should do. Afterward Chuck came into the chapel to unburden himself. When our eyes met, it was as if he confessed everything to me. ‘You did it, didn’t you?’ I asked him.” 

“What did he say?” 

Mac seemed not to hear her and replied, “He didn’t have time and this time of year—it was fall going into winter—sunsets were hard to come by. I invited him to go and see a sunset with me. He was reluctant at first but acquiesced and I drove him up to the top of Mount Spokane. 

“I remembered the day was sunny, but cold and as promised he got to see his last sunset. He admitted to raping your mother, my Sally Ann. I then killed him, using that damn rosery as a garotte. 

“I then disposed of his body along a closed road there at the state park. His remains were discovered that next summer, though no one knew how he got there or why he disappeared.” Mac buried his face in his hands. “Please, Lord forgive me for what I’ve done.” 

Sirens were overheard steadily nearing the bar. 

“Dad don’t worry. It was meant to be,” Emily told him as the sirens’ wails stopped and police officers burst through the door. “It was self-defense. I feared for my life and yours.” Both slowly arose from their chairs and raised their hands. 

Mac felt cleansed for the first time in twenty years.