Cross Dressing by Bill Fitzhugh

Author:Bill Fitzhugh [Fitzhugh, Bill]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-0-06-204187-6
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2000-03-21T16:00:00+00:00

Father Michael looks to the sky but not to pray. He wishes it weren’t so hot. His faith wanes with each hour. He has seen the money and relief supplies diverted by whichever rebel group controls a given area. Frustrated, he has written letters to his supe-riors in hopes of effecting change in that regard. He is told that someone from the Church will come to investigate the matter. Three months pass and nothing changes.

It’s a Friday and Father Michael has gone without food or water for forty-eight hours. He is weak and disoriented as he administers the last rites to a group of recent converts. When he stands to stretch his back, he notices a commotion on the horizon. There is a small convoy coming his way. Even from a distance Father Michael can tell it is neither a military nor an aid convoy. There is too much dust to make things out until they get closer, so he waits, hopeful that it is help of some sort. When they get closer, the drivers begin honking their horns. The refugees—some stumbling, others being dragged out of the way—clear a path. Father Michael watches in confusion as the refugees scramble to their feet and wave at the line of trucks as if it is a parade—which, in a sense, it is.

The last vehicle in the convoy is the strangest truck Father Michael has ever seen. It is a Range Rover, the back of which has been modified into what looks like an oversized phone booth or perhaps a giant terrarium. The truck and the frame of the Plexiglas container have been painted a custom shade of bone. Inside the booth, sitting in a sumptuous cream-colored leather wing-back chair, is Cardinal Cooper. He is wearing an alabaster chasuble trimmed with silk cord. His shoulders are draped with a short cape embroidered with ecclesiastical symbols sewn from glittery golden threads, all festooned with a jewel-encrusted crucifix dangling on an elegant silver chain. As a topper, Cardinal Cooper sports a Paris white miter with mother-of-pearl brocade which tests the height of his enclosure. He is a feather boa away from looking like a religious Liberace as he waves at the starving refugees like a Sweet Potato Queen in a harvest parade. Father Michael thinks he is hallucinating.

The Cardinal’s conveyance comes to a stop in front of Father Michael. As he stands there, coughing in the dust, Father Michael peers through the tinted Plexiglas. Inside, on a teak-wood end table next to the leather chair, he sees a bowl of pistachios, a golden chalice, and a can of caffeine-free diet soda. There is a cooler filled with more soft drinks against the wall. When the dust finally settles, an electric window rolls down and the Cardinal pokes his jewel-encrusted hand out for the humble priest to kiss. Standing in the absurd heat, Father Michael feels an air-conditioned breeze cool his face. Cardinal Cooper clears his throat as if to say hurry up, you’re letting all the cold air out.

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