Kristian With the ‘k’
My fingers curled around the fine leather of the steering wheel, tightening my grip as my eyes swept over the dashboard before shifting down to locate the ignition, clutch, and brakes.
“Sure?” Miles asked, his voice hopeful.
“No.” I glanced at the rearview mirror, then shifted my gaze to him. “But you are the first person who got me this close to trying. And I think I would like that…to try.”
“Alright, Florence.” He playfully raised his eyebrows at me. “Show me what you’ve got.”
“Oh, I assure you—” A nervous laugh escaped my throat. “—this won’t be anything ‘Fast and Furious’-like.”
A scratch of the seatbelt settled across my chest as I leaned forward to start the car, “Well,” I sighed, “here it goes,” and a deep, throaty roar of the engine filled the air, sending a trail of jittery goosebumps up my arms.
***
Just before dinner time, we pulled up to my parents’ house.
Oh, boy! A knot of tormenting anticipation twisted in my stomach.
Was this a sign for an escape plan? Oof!
A sly raccoon, thief that he was, could have snatched my bag, forcing me to waste time at the police station with a long, boring statement, describing his intricate fur colour.
Or the queue at Starbucks could have been so long that I might still be standing there now, desperately waiting for a decent-sized coffee, still quite confused by their sizing system, I might add.
Or even worse, I could have been kidnapped!
I shuddered at the idea. It was ridiculous; I was being ridiculous.
“Shall we?” Miles asked.
“Huh?” I blinked, quickly pulled back from my genius, wild thoughts. “Oh, yeah, sure!” And with a sharp snatch of breath, I stepped outside.
“Finally,” Jo sighed with relief as she opened the door, “you two are back.”
“What’s going on?” I asked, following her inside the house.
Jo mouthed something under her breath that sounded like “a priest.”
“What?” I gaped at her, confused.
“There’s a priest in the living room!” she muttered.
“A priest?” I quickly repeated. “But why? Is it Mum?”
“Mum?” Her eyebrows furrowed with a question mark.
“Assuming he isn’t here to perform an exorcism, is he?”
“Good lord, Florence, no!” Jo let out a choked laugh. “He’s our wedding officiant. I’m just worried about dinner and whether he still wants to marry us after that!”
“Oh, I see,” I drawled.
“Do you two—” She quickly glanced at Miles. “—mind going upstairs and putting on some decent clothes?”
“Um—” I cleared my throat. “—sure…Mother?” I said, letting the question hang in the air, wondering who this woman was and what she had done to my sister. “When did you become so…‘Elizabethan’?”
“Ha-ha!” Jo rolled her eyes at me. “This is important!”
I quickly ran upstairs, trying to find some clothes that would qualify as a decent outfit. It wasn’t easy, but I managed to dig up a dress that was both respectful and quite impressive. Seriously, where did I even get that from?
On the way to the living room, an excellent idea struck me—one that might just save the day—sending me in a slightly different direction.
“Florence?” A voice startled me from behind.
“Fuck!” I jumped. “Dad, you can’t sneak up on people like that.”
“What are you doing here?” he asked, catching me with a fiery shot of whiskey in my hand, the bar cabinet in his office wide open.
Raising my glass, I whispered a question. “Um…you want one?”
“Hmm.” My father glanced over his shoulder. “Why the hell not?”
Quickly, we downed our drinks, both immediately wincing at the satisfying heat that burnt inside our throats. “Good stuff!” my father choked out. “Ready to go?”
“Right,” I said, a faint smile tugging at my lips, mirroring his own.
“The dinner is ready,” my mother said, inviting everyone to the table. “Oh, there you two are,” she said, shifting her gaze to us, eyes sweeping over my dress, “Florence, well, look at you. You look—”
“Like a virgin?” I babbled a question that instantly reminded me of the title of the iconic song, then the melody naturally followed in a hum.
“Excuse me, what?” she arched her eyebrow at me.
“Come on, you have to know this one.” But the displeased expression on her face remained. “Um,” I felt the need to quickly add another line. “I’m singing about giving myself to someone, Mum. You know, losing “it” for the very first time. Like Madonna. That one. ”
She took just a brief moment before finally making a response. “If this was supposed to be a joke, Florence,” she said with a dry voice, “I am sorry to be the one to disappoint, but…maybe try a little harder next time?”
Sheepishly mumbling, “Yep, I’ll do my best…” I trailed off, catching a glimpse of dad trying to hide a smile. He was clearly on the same page with me.
The priest, Father Kristian, Kristian with a ‘K,’ looked in his early forties and, oh, with his chiselled features, he did look easy on the eyes.
Forgive me, Lord, my faith was never strong, but maybe coming to church once or twice wouldn’t be so bad after all, especially on the days Father Kristian was leading the service.
Sweet Hallelujah, I felt my cheeks blush.
Was I really lusting after a priest? Well, he was a very attractive priest…
“Amen,” Father Kristian said after saying a prayer.
“Amen,” we all repeated.
Jo, who was seated in front of me, shot me a knowing look and whispered, “I could easily bet he’s got an annual gym membership. Will you look at those biceps under that tight shirt?”
“I know,” I mouthed. Clearly I wasn’t the only one at this table having some…unholy thoughts.
“The soup is lovely, Elizabeth,” Father Kristian said with a warm smile.
“Oh, thank you, Father,” my mother beamed at once. “We have ordered the finest Portuguese brown crabs especially for dinner tonight. Not every day we have such an honoured guest.”
“You’ll spoil me, Elizabeth—” He let out a short laugh. “—though, you truly shouldn’t have gone to so much trouble.” Not, of course, as if she went to Portugal herself to get them, but I must admit, the crab soup was indeed divine.
“So—” My dad cleared his throat. “—Father Kristian, how long have you been a priest?”
“Not long,” he said. “I went to the seminary at the age of thirty-seven and then at forty I became a priest. Well, I am forty-one now.”
“Do you mind me asking what you were doing before you came to the priesthood?” I asked, glancing at him.
Father Kristian offered a warm smile. “Not at all, there is no harm in asking any question,” he said, a soft sigh escaping him as he lowered his gaze to his hands.
“But I must confess, I had a pretty rough start in my life. One I wouldn’t be proud of.
Nonetheless, I believe it’s all in God’s will because the path that I was given led me to where I am now. ”
“People tend to be hard on themselves,” my mother began. “I’m sure, Father, it wasn’t as bad as you say.”
“Well, drug dealing sounds pretty bad to me,” he mumbled, casually raising another spoon of soup to his mouth.
And I nearly spattered all my food from a single glance at the horrified expression on my mother’s face.
She must have been thinking, ‘Holy Mary, Jesus, and Joseph! What on Earth was that criminal doing at our dinner table?’ As for me, this confession just truly made my day.
While my mother remained flabbergasted and speechless for a few seconds, I leaned forward, unable to contain my curiosity any longer. “I was just curious,” I mumbled, feeling my cheeks burn, “um…do you work out a lot?”
“Florence?!” my mother gasped, her eyes widening in shock.
“What?” I glanced at her. “What did I say? He looks like…” A short, stifled laugh escaped Miles on my left.
“Highly inappropriate!” she exclaimed. “I do apologise, Father,” she added, pinning me down with her unwavering gaze. “My older daughter has clearly lost touch with reality.”
“Oh, that’s alright,” Father Kristian said with a smile. “In fact, Florence isn’t wrong. I do have a lot of interest in Brazilian jiu-jitsu. I don’t really kick ass for the Lord,” he laughed, “but it helps me with self-discipline and my well-being.”
“Holy shrimp!” My father gasped, staring at the priest. “I would have never guessed!”
The main course was lemon sole with a few green capers artfully arranged on the plate. Unlike the impressive Portuguese brown crabs, it wasn’t imported from overseas, yet it also tasted absolutely delicious.
“By the way—” Jo shot me a mischievous glance. “—guess who is arriving in a few days?”
“Um,” I mumbled, trying to guess.
“Blake.” She beamed. “I cannot wait for you two to meet.”
“Oh.” I shook my head. “Right?!”
“He is also in medicine, you know, like you,” she added, her voice filled with excitement.
“Plastic surgeon isn’t exactly the same.” Suddenly Miles’ low voice cut into our conversation.
“Excuse me, mister!” She raised her brow. “No one asked you!”
“But he is right, though,” Mark chuckled.
“Don’t listen to them.” Jo rolled her eyes. “I think you are going to like him.”
“I think…I don’t want to think about men right now. Besides,” I sighed, my furtive gaze drifting towards Miles. There was something else, or rather someone else, on my mind.
“Besides what?” Jo pressed, her eyes narrowing with curiosity.
“Well, the thing is—” I hesitated, tilting my head towards our mother, who was engrossed in conversation with dad and Father Kristian. “—she’s already trying to set me up.”
“What?” Jo gasped, her voice barely above a whisper. “With whom?”
“Shh!” I narrowed my gaze at her. “She is just here.”
“Sorry!” Jo muttered, repeating quieter this time. “But who?”
An awkward silence hung in the air, punctuated only by the clinking of silverware. Miles shifted in his seat, a smirk playing on his lips. “Try to take a guess?” he finally said.
“Wait, what? I thought you two didn’t even like each other, and just pretended like you did,” she snorted.
“Well, that’s just not true,” I rolled my eyes, nudging at his shoulder, “Tell them, Miles.”