Chapter 8
EIGHT
JUDE
“You came,” I said in bewilderment, then flushed furiously as I immediately realized the sexual innuendo. “I-I mean, you’re here.”
“Yes, I’m sorry about saying I wouldn’t be back. Discovering you were gay… it threw me.”
My lips curled up in a quirky smile. “My admission threw me as well, Ethan. I’ve never come out.”
“Is that why you want to be friends?” Ethan asked, his bright expression registering his hopefulness. “Because of our orientation?”
“In part it is. But mostly, I happened to see a stunning, intriguing man sitting in a pew in my church, and I’m still intrigued. To what extent, I don’t know,” I said honestly. “I’m just glad you’re here. It’s been a long week without seeing you.”
Ethan appeared to be blushing but with his darker complexion, unless I’d had the time to familiarize myself with the nuances of his skin, it was difficult to spot the faint change in color.
“Jude, I need to be forthright. You’re a priest and I’m a gay man who finds you attractive.
My struggle is that I’d like to keep seeing you, but it’s not going to be without me fantasizing about you in sexual ways.
This is my therapist talking. He suggested I be totally transparent so you can make an informed decision.
Is it just friendship? Or are you curious and wanting to experiment? ”
“You talked to your therapist about me?” I asked, feeling warm inside and unlike Ethan, my pale skin pinkened.
“I had to, Jude. I stand to get my heart broken when you inevitably choose the Church over me.” Ethan splayed his hand on the wooden grille between us. “But what do you want?”
I hadn’t expected the conversation to take this kind of turn. What did I want? Did I have the courage to meet with Ethan outside the confessional? Apparently, that’s what Ethan was looking for if he was trying to protect his heart.
His hand was still on the partition. I began to raise my hand to mirror his, but I couldn’t yet.
Ethan’s question startled me. “Had you ever been with a guy before you started becoming a priest?”
I nodded numbly.
“Tell me about him,” Ethan encouraged and retracted his hand.
My neutral expression morphed into a soft smile. “His name was Finn. A tall, lanky athlete. He played soccer, a winger. Do you know the game?”
“Yes, I used to play both here and in Italy during the summers. I was a striker.”
I let out a soft chuckle and teased. “Figures, you’d have one of the star positions.”
Ethan pushed. “What happened with you and Finn?”
“We discovered we were both gay, junior year in high school. We were both shy and began slowly exploring each other’s bodies, experimenting as we became more confident.
Finn more than me. We were together all through senior year and did everything short of anal sex.
When he wanted to… what was the term back then?
Go all the way. I refused. I’d been pushing myself to do everything we had, and I liked it, a lot.
But in the back of my brain, I kept hearing the priests say gay sex was immoral. Eventually, he gave me an ultimatum.”
I stopped talking and Ethan gave me a few minutes before he coaxed, “What did you say?”
“I told him I couldn’t. We’d both been in the closet but as soon as we split, he came out and found another boyfriend. I went to confession and told the priest that I was gay. And…” I wiped my eyes, inserted two fingers inside the clerical collar, and tugged at it, needing air.
Ethan’s reaction to me pulling my collar made him furrow his brow. And I had to guess it wasn’t the first time. I just never realized how often I did it.
“And what?” Ethan said very gently, leaning forward.
I scoffed, recalling the priest’s solution. “He reminded me homosexuality was a sin and I should keep following my religious path.”
Ethan scrunched his face. “I don’t follow.”
“When I became an altar boy, I was told this was the start of a path to serving God, my calling. The priest gave me a lengthy penance, which basically had me writing down that I wasn’t gay, and to rid myself of all sexual thoughts.
Obviously, I never told the priest that I’d sucked my boyfriend’s dick behind the bleachers at school. ”
Ethan tentatively asked, “What about your parents?”
I let out a bitter, self-deprecating laugh. “I never told them. They’re strict Irish Catholics who never asked me what I wanted to do in life. They assumed that I’d become a priest. And that was exactly what I did.”
“And now?”
I stared at Ethan, his beautiful mossy green eyes having lost their sparkle. “I hope I haven’t scared you away. Will you come back tomorrow?”
“Yes,” Ethan said, his tone sounding like a promise.
When Ethan left the confessional and I heard the thud of the heavy door close upon his exit, I picked up my prayer book, rose, and left. The walls of the cubicle had begun to close in on me near the end of my conversation with Ethan.
I needed to figure out what I was doing with Ethan.
I hadn’t even considered Ethan could get hurt, and that was on me.
I just never realized that Ethan liked me as a man in that way.
A gay man whom Ethan admitted to fantasizing about.
I didn’t have enough sexual experience to envision more than the basics—kissing, hand jobs, and blow jobs.
Even so, I could easily visualize Ethan across from me in the confessional describing one of his erotic daydreams. The words would defile the sacredness of the space, a fact that should bother me more than it did.
Although I still had an active libido, I never watched porn because I was afraid of having my laptop hacked.
I masturbated and knew for a fact that I wasn’t the only priest who didn’t abstain.
During my time at the seminary, I relieved myself from morning wood but that was it.
I had to. Otherwise, I’d be at mass with a boner.
Those who were gay—and a few who were straight—spoke in hushed whispers about their sexual practices in the solitary of their room.
As for Ethan, I was drawn to him. Not only because I was curious what it would be like to be with another man as an adult. I liked being with him. He was responsible for making me smile, even laugh. I’d almost forgotten how.
I locked up the church and was on my way to the rectory when my phone rang. Father Matthew’s name popped up on the display screen. Digging in deep mentally, I dropped down to the highest stair on the stoop. “Hello, Father.”
“Hello, Jude. I’m following up on your visit with Bishop Sanchez.”
“Did he tell you to check up?” I asked, trying to keep my tone free of annoyance. The effort wasn’t working.
“It’s my job as your religious mentor, Father,” he retorted testily.
“I’m fine, Father Matthew. The bishop heard my confession, gave me some things to ponder, and said he’d be in touch in a couple of weeks. We had a lovely visit.”
“He advised you that he’s leaning toward denying your petition to laicization. How do you feel about that?”
I hated that the bishop shared that nugget of information, even though the guidelines were that all superiors had to be kept updated during the process.
“I’ll honor his decision whatever it is.
” I lied because I wasn’t sure that I’d stay in the Church if he denied me.
“That was one of the things Bishop Sanchez wanted me to think through.”
I could literally envision his obnoxious grin when he said, “I’m glad you’re taking the bishop’s advice seriously.
Make an appointment with my secretary and we’ll have a discussion on what I think you need to be prioritizing.
Also, perhaps you’ll start a daily journal whenever a negative thought comes to you. Anything else you need, Father?”
“No, Father Matthew,” I managed to say, my voice calm and then forced. “Thank you for the call.”
“Oh, one more thing,” Father Matthew began. “Your mother was in touch yesterday.”
I was reaching the end of my comportment. “Bishop Sanchez said you shouldn’t be speaking to her about my issues without my knowledge.”
“She called me,” he said, trying for innocence. “Such a lovely woman. She only wants the best for you.”
As Father Matthew went on to praise my mother, I set the timer on my phone for one second. When it went off, I said, “Father Matthew, I have to go.” I didn’t explain why and the priest didn’t ask.
“Very well, Father. Keep praying.”
When the call disconnected, I wanted to smash the phone into a million pieces.
I wasn’t a violent man by any means but I was losing my emotional grip on the situation.
Using the excuse that my mother called him was bullshit.
All the priest had to do was explain to my mother that the bishop had said he couldn’t interfere with family affairs.
God forbid. That would mean Matthew wouldn’t be privy to everything that went down between me and my parents.
I ran up the stairs to the rectory door and unlocked it, my hands shaking.
I had an appointment with a member from the summer children’s playground committee in an hour.
I knew there was no way I’d be able to speak rationally or think clearly.
I sent a text to the woman with my apologies that I wasn’t feeling well.
She replied right away with a message to feel better.
Once inside, I deadbolted the front door so Inés wouldn’t come in and then sent a text to her that the meeting was canceled.
I walked through to my bedroom, slamming that door behind me.
Then I tore off the collar and undressed, placing the clothes haphazardly over the chair in my room.
Dropping onto the bed, I lay down on my back.
What’s happening to me? I felt overwhelmed and the thought that the bishop might turn down my petition made me physically sick.