Chapter 46
Jason
The last notes of the last of Gesualdo’s Tenebrae Responsoria fade into the vaulted ceiling of Saint Sebastian’s, and for a moment, the whole church holds its breath. Two hundred years of sacred acoustics cradle the silence, letting it settle like incense over the congregation that fills every pew.
Then the applause begins.
I stand between Calvin and Kevin in the Saint Sebastian Six, and I let myself absorb this moment.
The warm lights, the faces turned toward us, the weight of having just sung some of the most technically demanding sacred music in the choral repertoire, and nailing it.
All six of us are in black concert dress, arranged in our usual semicircle at the front of the sanctuary, and I can feel the satisfaction radiating from each of them.
This is our final concert with me as music director of Saint Sebastian’s. It’s fitting that it’s here, in this church that’s been my musical home for more than twenty years.
Father Gabriel rises from his seat in the front pew and approaches one of the microphones set up near the altar. The applause dies down as he adjusts his glasses and looks out at the audience with that gentle smile I’ve come to know so well over the years.
“What a gift we’ve been given tonight,” he begins.
“Sacred music has the power to lift us beyond ourselves, to connect us with the divine mystery that dwells in beauty and truth. The Saint Sebastian Six has been blessing this parish with that gift for a decade, under Jason Perez’s inspired direction. ”
My throat tightens. I wasn’t expecting this.
“Jason has decided to step down from his position as our music director,” Father Gabriel continues, his voice steady but warm.
“While we will miss him terribly in that role, I’m pleased to announce that the Six will continue performing, and that Jason will continue conducting and singing with the ensemble. ”
More applause. I catch Kelsey’s eye in the third row, and she’s beaming at me, Adrienne next to her with an arm around her shoulders. Beside Adrienne sits Victor, looking devastating in a charcoal suit and burgundy tie, his eyes locked on mine with an expression that makes my heart stutter.
“But tonight,” Father Gabriel says, “is a celebration, not a goodbye. So please, join us in the parish hall for a reception in honor of Jason and all the beauty he’s brought to this community.”
The six of us file down from the sanctuary, and immediately I’m surrounded by parishioners.
Mrs. Kowalski from the choir hugs me and tells me she’ll miss seeing me every Sunday.
Victoria Kwan, whose twins sing in the children’s choir, presses a handmade card into my hands.
Silas appears with Logan, both looking sharp in suits, and Silas is talking a mile a minute about the harmonic choices in the Palestrina piece we performed.
But I’m looking past them all, searching for Victor.
He’s hanging back, letting the crowd have their moment with me, and when our eyes meet across the sanctuary, he gives me that small, private smile that’s just for me. The one that says I’m proud of you and I love you and take your time.
“Jason.” Father Gabriel touches my elbow. “Could I have a word before the reception?”
I nod and follow him through the door behind the altar that leads to the sacristy and his office. The familiar smell of candle wax and old wood surrounds us before he closes the door, muffling the chatter from beyond the sanctuary.
“That was a beautiful concert,” he says, settling into the chair behind his desk and gesturing for me to sit. “But then again, you’ve never given us anything less than beautiful.”
“Thank you, Father.” I sit, my hands folded in my lap, suddenly feeling like I’m back in confession. Which, in a way, I suppose I am.
“I wanted to tell you privately what I couldn’t say publicly,” he continues. “The Church is losing something precious when you leave. Not just your talent, but your integrity. Your willingness to wrestle with hard questions. Your refusal to accept easy answers.”
I don’t know what to say to that.
“I meant what I said during your confession,” Father Gabriel continues. “The Church will change. It has to. But I understand that you can’t wait for that change.” He pulls off his glasses and rubs the bridge of his nose. “If I’m honest, I’m tired of waiting too.”
“Father—“
“I’m not saying anything that would jeopardize my position.” He puts his glasses back on. “Just that I’ve spent many sleepless nights praying over this, and I keep coming back to the same question.” He looks at me directly. “Is love a sin? I don’t think it can be.”
He pauses, and his voice softens. “You and Victor…I see the way he looks at you. I see grace there, Jason. I do.”
My eyes burn. “Thank you for saying that.”
“I wish I could do more than say it.” He pulls open a drawer and removes a business card, which he slides across the desk to me.
“However, I know the pastor at Holy Name in Manhattan. They’re looking for someone to head up their adult formation program.
Leading music for evening prayer, coordinating guest artists, that sort of thing.
It’s part-time, but it’s something. And Father Tom has performed twice as many blessings for same-sex couples as I have. ”
I have a new job, and I’m honestly not sure I want to join another church, at least right now. But it’s kind and thoughtful of Father Gabriel, and I pick up the card. “Thank you, Father.”
“I hope you won’t let the Church’s failures rob you of your calling.” He stands and extends his hand. “And I hope you’ll come back to visit sometimes. Maybe even sing for us on special occasions.”
I shake his hand, then pull him into a hug. He stiffens for just a moment—he’s not usually a hugger—but then his arms come around me and he pats my back.
“Go on,” he says when we separate. “You have people waiting for you.”
The parish hall has been transformed. There are tables set up with white cloths, arrangements of flowers, and enough food to feed an army.
There’s an easel in the corner with photos pinned to it: the Six performing at various venues over the years, me directing the children’s choir, candid shots from past concerts.
But what catches my attention is the banner strung across the back wall: THANK YOU, JASON.
“Surprise,” Kelsey says, appearing at my elbow. “Mrs. Kowalski and I helped Father Gabriel plan it. Well, Mrs. Kowalski did most of the actual planning. I gathered the photos.”
I kiss her cheek. “Thank you, sweetie. This is…it’s perfect.”
“You deserve it.” She loops her arm through mine. “You’ve given so much to this place. I’m glad they’re giving something back.”
We make our way through the crowd. I accept congratulations, make small talk, promise to stay in touch.
The other members of the Six surround me at various points.
Calvin and Kevin, Julian. Owen Tran, our countertenor, who works as a nurse, and Ben Calloway, our second baritone who teaches music at a Montessori school.
They’ve been more than colleagues. They’ve been family.
“Speech!” someone—I think Kevin—calls out, and the call is taken up by others until I’m standing in front of the banner with everyone’s eyes on me.
I’ve conducted hundreds of rehearsals, led countless worship services, given program notes at dozens of concerts. But this is different. This is goodbye to a chapter of my life, and I’m not sure I have the words.
Then I see Victor, standing off to the side with Kelsey and Adrienne, and suddenly I know what I want to say.
“Thank you all for coming tonight,” I begin. “And thank you for these twenty years. Saint Sebastian’s has been more than a job for me. It’s been a spiritual home, a creative sanctuary, and a community that challenged me and supported me in equal measure.”
I pause. This is the part I didn’t plan.
“I’ve spent a lot of my life trying to reconcile different parts of myself. I’m still working on it, honestly.” The silence in the room is generous, patient. “But recently, someone reminded me that I don’t have to choose between my faith and being my authentic self.”
I look directly at Victor now, and the love in his eyes nearly undoes me.
“I’m leaving my position as music director, but I’m not leaving my faith.
I’m not leaving the music that’s been my life’s work.
And I’m not leaving behind the relationships I’ve built here.
” I gesture to the Six. “I’m grateful that I get to keep making music with these five talented, generous souls.
And I’m grateful to Father Gabriel for his compassion and wisdom. ”
I take a deep breath.
“Most of all, I’m grateful that I’m finally brave enough to live my whole life.” I stop there because that’s all I’ve got.
The applause is thunderous. People surge forward to hug me, and I’m caught in a tide of affection and well-wishes. By the time I make it across the room to where Victor is standing, I’m emotionally wrung out, but lighter than I’ve felt in years.
“That was quite a speech,” Victor says, his voice low and intimate despite the crowd around us.
“I meant every word.”
“I know you did.” He glances around, then leans in closer. “I’m very proud of you, Jason.”
“Proud enough to kiss me in the parish hall of a Catholic church?”
His eyes widen. “Are you serious?”
We’re standing off to the side of the room, but I have no illusions that we’re out of sight. And still… “I am.”
The smile that spreads across Victor’s face is radiant. “Well then,” he says, and cups my face in his hands.
The kiss is soft and sweet and entirely appropriate for a church function. But it’s also public and deliberate and utterly lacking in shame. When we pull apart, I’m vaguely aware of whispers and titters and a smattering of applause.
Father Gabriel approaches us, and I brace myself for awkwardness. But he simply extends his hand to Victor. “Victor Hendricks, isn’t it? Kelsey’s father?”
“That’s right, Father.” Victor shakes his hand, looking slightly nervous. “I, uh, don’t usually attend church.”
“So Jason mentioned.” Father Gabriel’s smile is genuine. “But you’re welcome anytime. And I hope you’ll come back for our summer concert. The Six is performing, though Jason hasn’t told me what pieces yet.”
“I’m still arguing with Julian about the program,” I groan.
“I wouldn’t miss it,” Victor says, his hand finding mine.
The rest of the evening passes in a blur of conversation and laughter. Silas corners me to discuss vocal arrangement techniques and it’s several minutes before I convince him we can talk about it tomorrow.
As the crowd thins and people start to leave, I find myself standing in the sanctuary once more, looking up at the altar where I’ve spent so many Sunday mornings. Victor slips his hand into mine.
“You okay?” he asks quietly.
“More than okay.” I squeeze his hand. “I thought leaving would feel like an ending. But it feels more like a beginning.”
“It is, isn’t it?” He turns to face me fully, his free hand coming up to rest against my chest, right over my heart. “Our beginning. Finally.”
“Finally,” I echo.
The sanctuary lights have been dimmed, but enough illumination remains that I can see his face clearly.
When we finally leave Saint Sebastian’s that night, stepping out into the cool Brooklyn evening with Kelsey and Adrienne ahead of us, I don’t look back.
“Hey,” Victor says as we walk hand-in-hand down the church steps. “What are you thinking about?”
I look at him, at this man I love, and smile. “Everything,” I tell him. “I’m thinking about everything.”
And for the first time in fifteen years, when I think about everything, I’m not afraid.