“You want lots of money? Ha! From a priest? That’s…that’s…And where do you expect me to get lots of—”

“You miserable, self-righteous prick,” hissed Rosa Gambino from behind clenched teeth. “You don’t think it’s unforgivable to fuck a woman and make her pregnant, just that it’s unforgivable the woman you fucked came to confront you. You are a priest completely unconcerned about being virtuous in the eyes of God. You are only concerned with being virtuous in the eyes of the people around you.” Rosa Gambino took a deep breath and said, “All right, then, I want money and I want it soon.”

“But how in God’s name am I going to—”

“You figure it out, Golden Boy,” she said. “Isn’t that what you told me you were? The Golden Boy of the Catholic Church. Well, Mr. Golden Boy, you either come back to Rome with your child and me, or…or…”

“Or what?”

“Or I will go to the cardinal and tell him I am the unwed mother of your daughter.”

“You wouldn’t dare do that.”

“Oh, wouldn’t I? Think of something quickly, Father. I do not have the resources to stay long in your country. Maybe a month at the most.”

Three days later, Father Brady walked out of the Cathedral of St. Peter and St. Paul, ran across the huge traffic circle, passed the Franklin Institute, and headed up Nineteenth Street. He crossed Walnut Street and entered Rittenhouse Square. It was a small park, two blocks long and two blocks wide. It was six o’clock in the morning. Only a few joggers were exercising at that hour. Father Brady walked into the park, chose a bench, and sat down. Often on his breaks, Father Brady would go to Rittenhouse Square, find an empty bench, and read. Today he needed to talk to himself.

“How does a private person like myself,” he said aloud, “become something so demeaning as a game show contestant? How can I expose myself to such ridicule? I have to, that’s why. I need the money. Is the money so important? Of course it’s important. I will be able to give Rosa and the baby millions of dollars, enough money to live in comfort for the rest of their lives and still have hundreds of millions of dollars to give to the church. The church can do more good with those millions than I could ever do in a hundred lifetimes. And if I should die? Then so be it. It’s God’s will.”

The priest sighed.

“Perhaps when all is said and done, I will have absolved myself of my sins. Nonsense. You will never be able to absolve your sins in the eyes of God.

“But perhaps I will in my eyes.”

In the doctors’ lounge of New York–Presbyterian Hospital, the discussion concerning The Big Question continued.

“The Big Question is that new television reality game show that everybody’s talking about,” said the anesthesiologist to Dr. Mendavey. “It debuts in a month or so.”