Chapter 13
“You never told me why you went all the way to that bar,” Javier says as we walk to our respective cars.
“I don’t want to be seen by my parishioners,” I lie. “I was out driving, thinking about life, and I came across it.”
He eyes me like he doesn’t believe me, and he’d be right not to, but I can’t tell him the truth.
My phone vibrates in my pocket, so I reach in and pull it out, reading a message from Johnny on the screen.
Spoke to your dad. He’s doin ok. Talk soon.
I huff out a sigh of relief. He’s fine. Not dead. No longer missing. He’s okay.
When I look up, there’s a smile etched onto my face, and for the first time in a while, it feels genuine.
“You look happy,” Javier says. I continue to grin, pocketing the phone with the plan to make sure I get more info soon. “In need of a celebration?”
Yes! My initial thought is definitely yes. It’s been weeks of worrying that someone got to my father. I didn’t realize I cared so much until the thought that he could be taken away was put in front of me. Facing mortality can change a person, even if it’s not their own life at risk.
My father has been the source of my anger and frustration, and while I’m still unhappy over the level of control he’s had over my life, I never wanted him dead. I can be relieved and know that we’ll likely still never be close.
“Is that a no?” Javier questions, watching me.
“Maybe just a drink,” I say with a grin.
His smile is wide. “Once again, I got the perfect place.”
I give him a look. “Not anywhere where there’s naked people.”
He laughs. “Come on, Padre. What kind of man do you think I am?”
I’ve been following him in my car for fifteen minutes already, and with each second, I begin wondering if I should take a turn and go back home.
What will hanging out with him do for me? He’s not someone anyone should hang out with. He’s confessed to me, and yet I feel like I still don’t know everything he’s capable of. If my dad is fine, I no longer need his help.
Why am I going for a drink with him?
The devil on my shoulder whispers into my ear. You know exactly why.
I’ve been deprived.
I feel ridiculous even thinking that. I grew up with everything. More than I needed, at least materialistically. I had a good education, a warm bed, and a full stomach always. I should be grateful, and I am. Truly.
But my father basically banished me from his life—from the life I had come to know.
He didn’t want me in the business. He was too ashamed to have a gay son, caring more about what his other family would think.
He forced me into a career that would keep me from exploring more of myself—from finding love.
I’ve been deprived of love and affection. Of excitement and thrills. And I want those things.
A few minutes later, we pull into the parking lot of a liquor store. Javier quickly gets out and holds a finger up, telling me to wait. A few minutes later, with a bottle in hand, he saunters back to his car and starts it up. We’re on the road for another ten minutes before we arrive at a lake.
There’s a small lot where I park my car, but as I’m getting out I watch Javier drive his truck over the grass, make a turn and back it up closer to the water’s edge.
“What in the world,” I mutter to myself as I head over.
He gets out of the cab and rounds the back before dropping the tailgate. “See, it’s perfect,” he says.
I look around, but the shadows swallow everything up. There’s a couple lights in the parking lot, but nothing near the water. I can see the massive trees that seem to surround most of the lake, giving me an idea on how wide it is.
“Nobody will see you drinking out here,” he says, hopping onto the tailgate and opening the bottle.
“That’s all you got?” I ask, eyeing the Jim Beam.
“Do you not drink bourbon?”
“Not straight.”
“Then you’re not drinking it properly,” he says, handing it to me.
I reach for the neck of the bottle, my fingers lightly brushing his in the exchange. After a couple seconds, I bring it to my lips and take a sip.
He laughs, extending his hand to take it back. I watch as he takes a sizable gulp before I sit on the tailgate with him, making sure to leave plenty of space between us.
“So, what are we celebrating?” he asks.
“Just something I no longer have to worry about. A weight has been lifted.”
Javier hands me the bottle, and this time I take a bigger sip. I’m not a huge drinker, and I’ve never been one to drink anything straight, so when I swallow it I can’t help but make a face.
He seems to find it amusing.
“Maybe if you do that another ten times, it’ll equal a shot,” he teases.
I roll my eyes. “I still have to get home.”
Javier digs into his pocket and pulls out a pack of cigarettes. After removing one and rubbing it across his bottom lip, he pulls a lighter out of the half empty pack and lights it up.
As he’s exhaling the smoke, he asks me a question. “Could you ever stop being a priest?”
I adjust the glasses on my face. “Yes and no. I’d have to request a laicization, which would strip me from my duties and obligations, but my ordination is permanent.”
He’s quiet for a minute. “Would you ever do that?
“And do what after? I spent several years studying to be a priest. I didn’t focus on anything else.”
A humorless laugh rumbles in his chest. “I’d fucking hate my dad if he made me do some shit like that.”
“Well, I did.”
“Do you still?”
I think about the relief I felt when I found out my dad was fine.
I don’t think I hate him, but I do hold a lot of resentment, and some days it does feel like hate.
I struggle with my feelings toward him a lot.
Can you both hate and love a person? I think the line between the two emotions is thin, and on any given day you can teeter more toward one side than the other.
“Not sure,” I answer honestly.
“Doesn’t that go against the Bible’s teachings?” he asks in a teasing tone.
I turn and look at him. “I never said I was perfect.”
His eyes narrow briefly as he studies me, smoke exiting his mouth and entering his nose—an action I shouldn’t find at all attractive.
“Hmm.”
I track every line in his face, noting the slight scar above his eyebrow, and one that cuts into the bottom right corner of his lip. His dark eyes are framed by even darker lashes, and his five o’clock shadow doesn’t disguise the sharp line of his jaw.
My thoughts begin to spiral, so I look out toward the water. “And you? What led you to what you do, and would you do anything else?”
“Nah. I couldn’t do anything else. There’s something different in me, and doing what I do allows me to justify it. It’s part of the job.”
I’m struck silent. I don’t know how there are moments where I forget what he’s done.
He told me he had blood on his hands. There’s no other way to interpret that.
The way he casually mentioned there being something different inside him sent a chill down my spine.
I don’t truly know who I’m sitting next to.
And more disturbing than that, I don’t know why I’m not in a rush to get away.
“Don’t you find it weird that we’re here together?” he asks, putting sound to the thoughts in my head.
“Yes.”
“More weird for you, probably.”
“Why do you want to hang out with a priest?” I question, reaching for the bottle to take another sip. “Hoping I can get you into heaven?” My lips curl into a smirk.
He grins. “Not sure I believe in it.”
My brows lift slightly. “So, why?”
The silence stretches between us, but our eye contact remains connected.
“Maybe I’m intrigued by you. Maybe I’m suspicious of you. Maybe I’m confused.”
I cock my head, wrinkling my forehead. “Suspicious?”
Javier shrugs, taking a sip from the bottle.
“What are you confused about?” I ask.
“Everything,” he says, looking up at the sky.
I study his profile, noticing things I shouldn’t.
His neck and the tattoos that decorate it.
The way his Adam’s apple bobs when he swallows His lips, and how soft they appear to be for a man who seems anything but.
The furrow in his brow like he’s deep in thought, and the way I want to smooth it out.
His head slowly turns in my direction, his eyes firmly on mine. “What are you thinking about?” he questions.
I lick my lips. “Nothing.”
His lips twitch. “I don’t believe you.”
I swallow and watch as he jumps down, his feet hitting the ground with a crunch before he comes to stand between my jean-clad legs. He tosses the cigarette away, and I swallow again as my heart thumps inside my chest.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
“Nothing,” he replies, taking another swig from the bottle.
He then puts the glass opening on my bottom lip, pouring a healthy amount into my mouth. My eyes stay trained on his, but his gaze is focused on the way my lips wrap around the bottle.
When he pulls it away, I swallow, my face contorting before I swipe at my bottom lip with my tongue.
My breathing intensifies as he continues to stare at me in such close proximity. There’s two very different parts of me that are at war with each other right now. One seeks pleasure, the other knows the rules.
“I should go,” I say, moving to slide off the back of the truck.
He only steps back slightly, so when my feet hit the ground, we’re still very close.
“Should go or are going?” he questions, eyes bouncing between my mouth and eyes.
“I’m going.” The words come out softer than intended. They lack conviction and he knows it.
“You want me,” he states simply. There’s no teasing inflection in the words. He speaks them like they’re fact. “You’re aware of what I’ve done and still you want me.”
“No,” I say, my voice gaining some strength.
“I think I found something we have in common,” he says, taking a step back. “We’re both liars.”