22. Father Alexander
Father Alexander
I snuck out of Prayer for a little bit to speak with Sister Agnus. She said she wanted to see how my wounds were doing, but really, she just wanted to know if I inflicted any more pain on myself. Even though I wanted to discipline myself multiple times, I held back.
I’ve been good.
She was happy to learn that I stopped fighting with whatever was going on in my mind. I wish I could have told her that I’m still battling those demons, but that is my secret to keep. It seems that the secrets just keep piling on.
The secrecy of the thoughts I’ve been having about Celine, holding onto Father Keaton’s secret, and the fact that he has a gun in his desk. While I chalked it up to safety precautions, it still didn’t settle right in my stomach.
None of it does.
I’m still angry with Celine for breaking into his desk, and although finding the gun was a shock, what has been really swarming around my mind is still knowing that Father Keaton is sleeping with Joanna.
Ever since Celine told me what she witnessed in the dining hall, I’ve been watching Father Keaton and Joanna’s interactions very carefully. She stares at him more than he does her, but she is subtle about it. If I didn’t already know their secret, then I wouldn’t have thought anything of it.
As I walk back to the chapel, I wonder if I’d feel the same if I told someone about the thoughts I had of Celine. If I got that off my chest, would I be able to breathe? The only person I could really tell is God, and that terrified me.
The other day in the chapel, after Celine ran out, I tried to pray to Him about my concerns. But I couldn’t bring myself to do it because I don’t want Him to hear the words come out of my mouth. It’s hard enough thinking that He is reading my mind and silently judging me from above.
Swallowing the thought, I walk into the chapel to hear Father Keaton continuing with his prayer. My eyes don’t stay on him for long before I scan them to the front row, and my chest deflates when I see only Joanna and Bekah sitting together.
My eyes trail the pews until they land on the brunette sitting in the last row. My heart begins beating hard in my chest at the sight of her, my lungs inflating again.
As if she senses me, her head turns, and she peers over her shoulder. A tiny smile tugs at my lips as I dip my head in acknowledgment before slipping into the confessional booth.
Sometimes when I need to clear my head, I sit inside the booth while everyone else is helping out in other parts of the convent.
Sure, I could get some quiet in my office, but this is different.
Being soundproof, it blocks out every noise.
Plus, with how dim it is in here, it’s peaceful.
A peace that I don’t think I could get anywhere else.
As I’m focusing on that peace, the door to the other side creaks open. I don’t even have to glance over to see who it is. Celine has this magnetism to her that pulls me in. I couldn’t escape it if I tried.
The silence sits between us for a while. I’m not sure if she’s waiting for me to speak first, but I do, only because I want to hear her voice.
“Hello, Celine.”
“Hello, Father Alexander,” she greets me sheepishly.
“Is there something troubling you?” I ask, hoping that she confesses to not following through on her word of keeping her hands off herself. Celine exhales, but doesn’t respond verbally. After another moment of silence, I add, “Are you here to confess something?”
“Do you have something to confess?” She turns the question on me, and it takes me by surprise.
Maybe she wants to know why I almost kissed her. Twice. Or perhaps she wants to know why I grew hard in the courtyard when I caught her talking on the phone. “Are you wanting me to confess to something?”
“Nothing in particular,” she says. “But do you ever confess to anyone else, or do you keep your confessions bottled up?”
“Sometimes I confess to Father Keaton, but—”
“But what?”
I clench my teeth together, wondering how much I can tell her without giving the truth away. “But… there are things I cannot confess to him.”
Glancing to my right, I see her pivot her head in my direction as she asks, “Why?”
The words want to roll off my tongue. They are so close to spilling past my lips, and I don’t know if I can hold them back for much longer.
“Those confessions are… impure. They are things I can’t discuss with Father Keaton.”
She hums softly. “You can confess to me.”
Fuck.
“I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”
“Why not?” she asks. “Your secrets are safe with me, Father Alexander.”
The thing is, I know my secrets are safe with her. Celine promised that she wouldn’t tell anyone about Father Keaton and Joanna, and I know she meant it. If I tell her these thoughts I’ve been having, I know she will keep them to herself.
“Okay,” I foolishly give in. “Forgive me, Celine, for I have sinned.”
My words draw a small giggle from her, easing the tension. “What are your sins, Father?”
“I’ve been having these… thoughts.” I keep it vague.
“Thoughts about what?”
I begin to tap my fingers against my leg as the anxiety builds. “Maybe this isn’t such a good idea.”
“How will you clear your mind of these thoughts if you don’t speak them out loud?”
A soft chuckle leaves me. “You sound so professional.”
“Learned it from you.” I can hear the smirk in her voice. “Now, tell me what your thoughts are about.”
Do it, Alex. It’s going to keep eating at you if you don’t confess. Just don’t let her know that the thoughts are about her.
“A woman.”
A beat of silence passes before she responds with a simple, “Oh.”
“It’s the last thing that should be on my mind, given the vow I’ve taken, but she somehow weaseled her way into my head, and I can’t get her out.”
“That is… difficult,” she says with hesitation. “What exactly is the vow you took?”
“I vowed to abstain from intimacy.” Thinking back on when I took the vow, I feel like an idiot now for doing it—the reason being the woman in the booth next to me.
“And these thoughts you are having about this woman,” she pauses for breath before asking, “are they sexual?”
I swallow the lump in my throat and answer her honestly. “Yes.”
As my heart pounds in my chest while I wait for her next words. “Is this someone you met outside the convent?”
“No. She is here.” Admitting it out loud, it sounds terrible, but I can’t stop the words from pouring from my mouth. “Seeing her every day… it’s hard when these thoughts are running wild in my mind. They want to break free of the cage I keep them in.”
“I see,” she says casually. “Is it a nun? Or is it another woman here?”
“One of the other women,” I tell her. “She differs from anyone else I’ve ever met. She is reckless and marches to the beat of her own drum. She has a fire inside her that she isn’t afraid to unleash, even if it gets her in trouble.”
At this point, she has to know it’s her that I’m talking about—the description I gave suits her perfectly. I peek over to where she is sitting. She wets her lips, head falling forward for her eyes to settle on her lap.
“What are the thoughts you have about her?”
“Celine…” I say her name as a plea.
“Please, Alex.”
The sound of my name falling from her lips as she begs me to tell her breaks the thread of willpower I was holding onto. My breath shudders as I prepare myself for what I am about to say. Before I do, I mumble a small prayer for forgiveness.
“I think about what it would be like to kiss her, how her soft lips would feel against mine. I think about touching her and how her warm skin would feel beneath my fingers.” It’s so quiet that I hear her soft intake of breath.
At that sound, I don’t hesitate to continue.
“I think about exploring every inch of her perfect body to find which places drive her wild. I think about what she looks like under that white dress and how it would feel to have her body pressed against me.”
She shifts in her seat. “What else?”
I mutter a soft ‘fuck’ under my breath. There is no reason to keep hiding that she’s the woman who’s been consuming my mind like a damn disease.
“I think about fucking you.” I keep my voice low, and the words that leave my mouth make her breath quicken. I grin at the effect that I’m having on her, so I keep going.
“I think about all the places in the convent where I want to be alone with you. Your bedroom. My bedroom. This confessional booth.” I pause because the next confession I’m about to make is absolutely insane. “The damn altar. I want to lay you on it and fuck you as an offering to God.”
A quiet whimper leaves her, and if the words I’ve spoken didn’t make my dick harden, that little noise would have done the trick. She remains mute, and I begin to panic.
Fuck. I went too far.
“I’m sorry,” I apologize. “I crossed a line.”
“Don’t.” She stops me. “Don’t apologize.”
I keep my mouth shut, not wanting to ruin this any more than I already have. Movement from my right causes me to look her way, and I watch as Celine leaves the booth.
Falling back into my seat, I let out a sigh and rest my head against the wall. I shouldn’t have said anything to her. My eyes close as I internally yell at myself for being honest with her, but they fly open when I hear my door open.
Celine steps in quickly, shutting the door behind her. It’s a small place, so her legs touch my knees as she stands there. “What are you doing?”
“No one was out there to see me,” she reassures me after hearing the panic in my voice. Her hands grab mine, and I let her. She places them on her hips, and I lightly squeeze my fingertips into her. “Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned.”
My throat bobs, and I lick my lips. “What is your confession, Celine?”
“I think about you, too.” She gathers the material of her dress just below where I am holding her and begins to drag it up her body.
I drop my hands as she pulls the fabric higher until I can see her underwear. The wet spot on the white cotton is prominent, even in this lighting, and my mouth salivates at the sight. “I know.”
“You know?” she asks in confusion.