As long as you're a tree

Syracuse:

My name's Syracuse and I'm an alcoholic. Priest:
And you've been sober for two years, seven months and... Syracuse:
Twenty-one days. Priest:
You're doing very well, Syracuse. Syracuse:
It's about the girl, Father. Priest:
Oh, yes. The one you... met... out fishing. Syracuse:
I drew her up in a net, Father. Priest:
She looked pretty real to me, Circus. Syracuse:
Syracuse. Priest:
Sorry. Syracuse. So, what about her? You've sinned with her, I suppose? Syracuse:
Of course. Priest:
And I don't suppose you want absolution? Syracuse:
No. Priest:
No. So, why are you here, Syracuse? Syracuse:
You know the story about the king who had a secret, and it drove him mad so he told it to the tree? Priest:
OK, so... pretend I'm a tree. Syracuse:
She brings me luck... and I don't know why. I'm afraid, Father... 'cause... I'm beginning to hope. Priest:
We should never lose hope, Syracuse. Syracuse:
She was drowned, Father, my net brought her back to life. Priest:
That doesn't make sense. Syracuse:
I know. None of it makes sense, that's why I'm afraid. I know something's going to happen, something wonderful. Or terrible. It's just the kind of girl she is. It's just the kind of person she is. And that's my secret. So what kind of tree are you, Father? Priest:
I'm a... well, I suppose I'm an oak. Syracuse:
You look like one of the ones they make hurley sticks out of. Priest:
Oh, an ash, yeah. Syracuse:
As long as you're a tree