Chapter 2 #3
I walked around to the back entrance, unlocked the door, and immediately switched off the security system.
I passed through the sacristy, the room which stored the sacred objects and liturgical vestments used during mass.
Exiting from the opposite side of the sacristy, I passed under the arch that opened onto the altar.
I kneeled on the marble floor and made the sign of the cross.
Raising my eyes to the crucified Christ on the cross, I murmured a quick plea.
“Please help me keep my cool with Father Matthew.” Shifting slightly to face the statue of Michael the Archangel, I said, “Help me to stand my ground. I might be leaving the priesthood but there’s not a doubt in my mind that you, God or the Universe wouldn’t want me to pursue my life’s work. Be my defender, Michael.”
I bowed my head and then planting one foot on the floor, pushed myself to stand.
I jogged down the few steps to the altar rail and feeling peppy at the moment, I braced two hands on the railing and vaulted over, doing a one-eighty.
Laughing at my antics, and the fact that Father Matthew would’ve gone ballistic if he’d witnessed it, I grinned from ear to ear.
I walked briskly down the main aisle toward the front of the church.
When I unbolted the massive outer doors and yanked one of them open, I smiled at the three elderly women waiting to enter.
They lived close by and came every morning to visit and pray; their mannerisms with each other led me to think they’d been friends for years.
I greeted them in their native language. “Buen dìa, senoras.”
They giggled at what I assumed was my poor pronunciation, the same they did every day. I smiled and gestured them inside.
Just then, I saw Inés on the pathway to the rectory and waved at her to wait up. She backtracked and met me halfway. “Good morning, Father.”
“Same to you, Inés. Father Matthew called last night and said he wanted to talk to me. He didn’t want to come here and told me to meet him at the Black Dog.”
Inés’ brow creased in concern. “Why not here? Is anything wrong, Father?”
I wasn’t going to tell Inés about my eventual departure until the process was complete. And although I felt bad being dishonest, it had to be this way. Word of my plans could not leak prematurely. “I’m not sure. Are there any rumors going around regarding the church?”
“Not that I know of. But I guess you’ll find out soon enough.” She patted my arm, knowing the priest’s biting personality. “Good luck, Father.”
I gave her a weak smile. “Thanks. I have my phone in case you need me.”
“If you’re lucky, something might come up,” she said on a chuckle.
I gave her a wave and headed north toward Hill Street, losing myself in thought about what my future might look like.
I really didn’t have any interests outside of the clerical life.
Although, getting a dog might me give companionship.
Most parishes encouraged pastors to get a pet, especially when they lived alone, but Father Matthew had dissuaded me until I’d settled in at the new parish.
I really couldn’t disagree. Nonetheless, I craved the day when I didn’t have to fill out a formal petition every time I wanted something.
However, that was neither here nor there.
Because I was certain that Father Matthew was going to quiz me on future plans just so he could find fault.
For the rest of my climb I pondered what career I might want to pursue when my clerical duties were lifted.
I squeezed ideas out of my brain as if I was pressing juice from a lemon and still…
I came up with nothing. Fuck. I was in for a tedious conversation.
Black Dog Coffee Roasters was not a traditional coffee shop.
Rather, it was a Volkswagen food truck parked inside a vast warehouse with flags of the United States, Guatemala—where their coffee beans came from—and the state of California spread out across the ceiling.
There were a dozen café tables and metal chairs on each side of the truck, keeping the walk from the outside to the order window clear of traffic.
The rest of the warehouse was stocked with an array of merchandise from coffee to T-shirts, all bearing the name of the company.
I crossed over the metal tracks of the warehouse doors and allowed myself a few moments for my eyes to adjust from the bright sun.
When I did, I spotted Father Matthew looking at his phone and I figured that he was checking the time, which was eight twenty-five.
I’d kept track to assure that I wouldn’t be late.
I went over to the priest. “Good morning, Father.” I noticed that he had his coffee already but asked anyway, “Can I get you anything else?”
“No,” the priest said tersely. “Get in line and order yours so we can get started.”
Patience, I thought grimly. At the counter, I ordered a plain coffee so I didn’t have to wait in line for a barista to make a fancy drink.
I took the proffered coffee from the person at the register, then added milk and sugar at the condiments bar.
Schooling my features, I palmed the to-go cup and walked to where Father Matthew sat as far away as possible from other people without bumping into the display case behind him.
I wasn’t about to initiate the conversation. This was the priest’s show. Thus, I stayed quiet and sipped my coffee.
Finally, Father Matthew began. “I spoke to your parents, Jude. My question to you is, why hadn’t you?”
Fortunately, I’d just swallowed. No other information could have stunned or angered me more. “You what?” Fucking patience. “When?”
“We had a lovely conversation last evening,” the priest said, then pushed his coffee cup away as if he was talking about the weather.
But then his mood darkened and he sat forward, his voice low and sinister.
“I suggest you explain why your mother had to cry to me when she heard about your plans to leave the Church, rather than to you. The poor woman was beside herself.”
My mother would’ve been upset. I’d been biding my time on when to tell my parents, figuring I’d wait for when the bishop confirmed that my petition was forwarded to the Vatican.
Gnashing my teeth, I sat on my hands so I wouldn’t reach across and shake the malice out of the older man.
“You had no authority to interfere, much less cause my parents grief.”
“I’m your mentor and I’ve watched you struggle from the day you entered the seminary. But you always came around and heeded my advice, with the proper encouragement.”
“Not encouragement,” I interrupted. “You harangued me to the point that I’d promise to do anything. But this time is different. You had no right to call my parents.”
“Someone had to,” he sniffed. “And I’d do it again, since you weren’t motivated to do so.”
“You wouldn’t know because you never asked,” I retorted even though I’d had no intention to include the priest in any conversation with my family.
This was my fault. I should’ve placated the priest without outright lies.
Made him feel that I’d considered his advice.
Except faking would’ve been no different than lying.
My stomach roiled with having to call my mother.
Besides the fact that being a priest was everything she ever wanted for me, she’d be upset that I’d kept my petition a secret.
Very quietly, I said, “If you truly recognized my struggles in the seminary, a mentor with my best interest at heart would’ve helped me realize that I was never meant to be there.
” I placed my hands on the table to support my trembling limbs as I pushed back from the table and stood.
“Where are you going?” Father Matthew demanded.
“To finish what you started,” I said. “And call my mother.”
My jaw then went slack as the priest referred to me by my title. He totally misunderstood me.
“Excellent, Father Jude. I thought I’d have to spend an hour convincing you to talk to her. A mother’s words to her son go a long way.” He made a shooing gesture with his hands. “Go on then. I’ll be in touch to hear the good news.”
I left my untouched coffee and somehow made it to the sidewalk.
I walked down the block a short distance before taking out my phone and scheduling an Uber.
I’d never make it back to the rectory without collapsing from distress.
I felt like I’d landed in another universe.
Could the priest have been more oblivious?
When I walked into the rectory, I peeked through the walk-up window to see that Inés wasn’t at her desk. I took the opportunity of her absence to hurry to my quarters. Tripping over the threshold to my bedroom, I closed the door and locked it. Then I sent a quick text to Inés.
Me: Not feeling well, leftover from Father Matthew
Inés: Sorry the meeting went poorly. Let me know if you need anything
Me: Thank you. I just have to lie down for a bit
I kicked off my shoes and crawled into bed fully dressed. Then I remembered my collar. After taking it off, I stared at it for long moments, pondering its inherent symbolism—the outward symbol of my vow to devote my life to the service of God.
I wasn’t into any kind of kinky lifestyle, but I was informed about a few of the basic practices in the world of BDSM.
Letting my mind wander, I found myself thinking about the relationship between a dominant and submissive.
In a committed D/s relationship, a Dom might collar their submissive as a visible expression of their dedication and loyalty.
The custom was similar in meaning to that of displaying a clerical collar.
And although I shuddered at the number of Christian followers who would castigate me for daring to find a parallel between submitting to a human or submitting to God, I thought of them as equal regarding a person’s natural tendencies.