by Claire Adams
“Any priestly stuff?”
“No, no ‘priestly’ stuff,” I said with a laugh.
“No crosses hanging upside down on the walls?”
Giggling I said, “No, Carla! That’s so bad!”
She laughed. “Well, I just thought maybe this guy was the devil, dressed up as a priest to tempt you.”
“Maybe he is.” I wasn’t joking. What if that was the case?
“Oh, come on, honey. You’re the best person I know. You didn’t sleep with a priest.”
“Well, I haven’t really told you what practically convinced me that I did. When I told the priest about having sex, he asked me if I’d told anyone else. I thought that was really strange. Why would he ask me that?”
“What did you tell him when he asked you that?”
“I told him that I was too ashamed…but that I thought that it was between God and me anyways and no one else needed to know.”
“So, maybe that was what he was going for. Maybe he could sense you beating up on yourself the way you do. I know that you believe God still loves you, right?”
“Of course.”
“Okay, so maybe that’s all he was going for. He wanted you to know that your whole life didn’t have to change for one mistake. Everyone makes mistakes, honey, even saints like you, apparently.”
“Stop calling me that,” I told her. “I don’t know, Carla. I really sensed he was relieved when I told him I hadn’t told anyone.”
“Baby, you are letting your guilt eat away at your brain. You feel guilty for losing your cherry.”
“Carla!”
“Oh Lord, fine. You feel guilty for giving your maidenhead to a man.”
I laughed and shook my head; she was too much. “Yes, I do feel guilty.”
“So, your head is messing with you because of it. You’ll see. You’ll take one look at the priest when you see him and you’ll know that there is now way you slept with that guy.”
I laughed again and she said, “In all seriousness, he was probably just trying to understand your situation and your frame of mind better. Or, I know how fast you talk when you want to just get something over with. Maybe he just wanted you to slow down and think about it so you can learn from it. That’s what priests do, right?”
“I suppose…”
“Did he give you a stricter penance than other priests?”
“No, it was about the same.”
“Well then, I’m sure that I’m right. Of course, I usually am. You’re letting your thoughts and emotions drive you crazy. You do it all the time, baby. You’re your own worst enemy.”
That much I knew was true. For the time being, I wanted to believe she was right and I hadn’t done anything as horrible as I feared. I changed the subject back to her and we had a 20-minute conversation about her new boyfriend.
Carla loves men. She unfortunately looks for love in all the wrong places…except rectories, that’s apparently my department. Each man she goes out with starts perfect and she thinks, “This is it, I’ve met the one.” Then by the end of the first or second month, he turns into a two-headed sloth and she has to try and get rid of him.
The good news is that she never gives up. The bad news is that she never gives up.
Chapter 12
Jace
The Saturday after I listened to the woman I’d have sex with confess her sins, I cancelled on my brothers for lunch. I didn’t know how to deal with all of it myself, but I knew that my brothers were the wrong ones to ask. I love them more than my next breath, but neither of them is very religious. Grandmother tried, but I was the only one it stuck onto to…and look how that turned out.
Anyway, I needed some quiet time so I spent all day Saturday organizing my new apartment and talking aloud to God as I did. I wished so badly that He could just tell me what to do. I suddenly understood those parishioners who came to me and said, “God gives me all of these choices…why doesn’t he just put the right one in front of me so I know which one it is?”
I knew what the Catholic Church expected of me. I’d taken vows to serve God and to remain pious as I did so. I knew that I should confess my own sins to the priest at our Diocese, and I knew that once I did that, there would have to be consequences for my actions beyond those of my tortured soul. I hadn’t been able to do any of that. It’s like I was stuck in limbo, waiting for someone to tell me which direction to go in.
The following Saturday morning, my brother Ryan called me. “Hey! You have to show up for lunch today.”
“I don’t know, Rye…”
“Come on! Too much is changing. Grandmother is gone, and you’re pulling away from us. I can’t handle it, Jace!”
“I’m not pulling away. I’ve just had a lot to do and a lot on my mind with the move and all.”
“Two hours, one afternoon. Come on, bro. Please.”
How could I say no? I dressed in street clothes and met them at the Applebee’s in town. Max was dressed in his usual button down dress shirt and slacks, and Ryan had on faded jeans with holes in them, a Levi jacket with the sleeves cut off to make a vest, and a white-t-shirt. Colorful tattoos covered both of his arms. They looked like an odd couple and I had to chuckle at what we would have looked like together had I worn my collar.
“Hey, there’s the wayward brother. Are you trying to steal Ryan’s role?” Max asked me as I walked up.
“Nope, he’s still the wayward one,” I said with a grin. Max got up and hugged me and Ryan followed suit.
“I’m so glad you showed up that I’m not even going to let your insults get to me,” he said. We all sat down and ordered. My brothers ordered beers with their lunch. I hadn’t had a drink at all since that night. I ordered water.
“So, how are things going for you, Rye?” I felt bad that I hadn’t called more to check in on him. I knew that he was a grown man, but I also knew that my grandmother had coddled him and made it hard for him to be able to do things on his own that grown men should be able to do.
“Things are okay. One day at a time, you know?”
“He’s just mostly having a hard time learning how to work the appliances,” Max joked. “You know, washer, dryer, coffee pot…” Ryan flipped him the bird. “Not in front of the priest!” Max scolded him.
I rolled my eyes and said, “Are you kidding? He’s blatantly picked up women right in front of me.”
Ryan laughed and said, “Well, in my defense…I was drunk.”
We all laughed at that. It was good to just laugh and joke with them and take my mind off of my troubles for a while. We ate our lunch and carried on light conversation, trading barbs and insults. For a while, it seemed like the old days and my soul seemed lighter than it had in a long time.
That was until Ryan leaned in and told Max, “Don’t look now, but three fine pieces of ass just walked in and sat down behind us.”
Max took a whiff of the air and said, “I can smell them. Fresh pussy.”
“Come on, you two; that’s disrespectful,” I said.
“You’re right,” Max said. “I’m sorry.”
Ryan shook his head and looked back at the girls. “I have a really hard time understanding how you do it, bro. How could a man give up pussy…”
“And alcohol,” Max said, raising his glass.
“Well, he can have wine, right?”
I didn’t want to get into all the rules with him right then, so I just said, “Yeah, as long as it’s blessed.”
Max laughed heartily and said, “Well maybe we could have a pussy blessed and then you can have one of those, too.” Ryan thought that was hilarious and choked on his beer as he laughed.
The girls they were lusting after took notice of our rowdy table and looked over. Max pasted his most charming smile on his face and said, “Hello, ladies.” The girls all said hello and then whispered something and giggled. I thought my brothers were going to actually let it go until Ryan all of a sudden said, “Do we have to have the pussy blessed by another priest, or can you do i
t yourself?”
He and Max laughed at that like it was the funniest thing they’d ever heard. Growing annoyed with being laughed at and feeling so stressed out I thought I might explode, I slammed down my water glass and said, “You know what? I was drunk two weeks ago…in a bar…and I took home some amazing pussy.”
The table went dead silent for several seconds and then I heard Ryan’s fork clatter to the table. Then, in that eloquent way my little brother has of speaking, I heard, “The fuck you say?”
Chapter 13
Daphne
I spent a lot of time the following week talking to God and praying for guidance and forgiveness. I also spent a lot of time convincing myself that there was absolutely no way that a parish priest got drunk in a local bar and had sex with a stranger. No way. Carla was right and I was letting my imagination take hold.
By the end of that second week, I was okay with myself and able to look in the mirror. I had to accept that God didn’t expect me to be perfect and everyone makes mistakes. I knew that, for the most part, I was a good person, and I felt good about myself most of the time.
I had to decide to file the night of drunken sex with the super-hot stranger under “bad decisions that I definitely shouldn’t repeat.” I wasn’t going to beat myself up over it anymore. I also decided to file the sound of the priest’s voice in the confessional underneath, “coincidence.” That one was harder to do, but it had to be…didn’t it?
I slept in a little bit on Sunday morning since it turned out to be my only day off. Mass didn’t begin until 11, so I got up around 8:30 and had my coffee on the little balcony of my new apartment. It was my favorite part of my new home, and the weather was perfect.
There are two things that renew me when I’m feeling stressed out or overwhelmed. One of them is church and the other is nature. I love to be outside, and since I hadn't had a lot of time to go for my evening walks or just explore the new city, the balcony was a Godsend.
After I finished my coffee and bagel, I went inside and soaked for a bit in the tub. By the time I pulled on my dress and tights and fixed my long hair in a twisty side ponytail for church, I felt good.
I love the church building here. It’s all old stone and stained glass; just walking inside gives me a sense of peace. The air is tinctured with the scent of incense and candles. I imagined that I could smell the musty prayer books…or maybe I really could. As I dipped my fingers into the holy water and made the sign of the cross, I breathed it in and let it fill me with grace.
I made my way down the brightly-lit passage with the polished wood floors and colorfully-painted walls that ran along the east-end of the church. Back there, I passed the little vestry and next to it a small kitchen where the Fathers and the Sisters often prepared and ate their meals.
As I pushed through the heavy oak doors of the inner sanctum, I could hear the singing of the choir as it echoed off of the masonry and wafted up into the rafters. I found a pew near the front and lost myself in the sweet song that reminded me of the innocence of youth; it soothed my spirit and allowed me to imagine a beautiful life stretched out before me.
When the choir finished, the lector came out. I’d only been to that church twice since I had moved there, but the Father had already announced his exit and said good-bye. The lector was there to announce and introduce the new parish priest. I knew a lot of parishioners got nervous when their old priest left them for a new post. I was so new there that it didn’t really matter to me.
They were especially anxious because their old priest of 15 years had just up and vanished. It had been months and still no one knew where he’d gone. Father Byrnes had done a great job of filling in, though, and the congregation had grown close with and accustomed to him. I didn’t know him well enough to form an opinion. The only thing I was interested in was finally seeing the new priest’s face so that I could convince myself once and for all that he wasn’t the man I slept with.
“Welcome, everyone. It’s so nice to see that we have a full house today. I hope you all had a chance to see Father Byrne off and thank him for visiting here with us. He did an amazing job and we’ll miss him.
“But, when God closes one chapter of our books, he opens another. We have the honor now of having our very own priest that we can hopefully hang onto for a long time: Father Jace. He was here last week and he’s been hearing confessions, but for those of you who haven’t had a chance to be here, I’d like to re-introduce Father Jace O’Doyle.
“He’ll be walking in through the back there today where you can all see him. Feel free to stand now and welcome him one more time for all of you who didn’t make it last week.”
I stood up along with everyone else. The church was so full that for several minutes, I couldn’t see over the top of other heads to get a glimpse. I held my breath, just knowing in my heart that it couldn’t possibly be him, but oh my! Was I ever wrong!
For the first time in my life, a cuss word escaped my mouth in church as the man who I’d had a drunken one-night stand with passed by my pew dressed in his black cassock and white collar. I’ve committed a mortal sin.
I could feel the sweat beginning to form itself under my arms and around my neck. My face was on fire. My stomach was churning. I didn't know what to do. Should I leave?
I was in such a panic mode that I didn’t realize at first that everyone was sitting now and I was still standing up. I sat down quickly and knew that if I got up and left now, it would draw more attention to me than if I just stuck it out. I sunk down in the pew and cursed the fact that I picked a seat so close to the altar. I usually had nothing to hide…but oh, I certainly did now — so much.
Maybe I should still leave. Maybe I should find another church and confess to another priest what I’ve done. I could feel the bile rising up in the back of my throat. It burned hot like acid, and I was aching to at least get up and rid my stomach of its contents. I couldn't risk it, though. Any motion might have caused me to lose control and that would make a scene. If I made a scene…then what?
I glanced around me. There were a lot of people there. Maybe he wouldn't notice me; he’d been speaking for close to 10 minutes already and I hadn't processed a word that he had said. How can he stand up there and recite mass, knowing what he’s done? If I could ask him one question, that would be it.
I wondered what he would say, or do, if I stayed after mass and tried to talk to him. He was obviously worried that I was going to tell someone. His question in the confessional convinced me of that. Could I bring myself to face him, though?
In my defense, he wasn’t wearing his collar when I met him in the bar. I had no idea that he was a priest. But he knew…so did that make his sin greater? Of course, it does. He took vows. He not only broke that sacrament, but he allowed me to commit a grievous sin without any warning. I was not sure what God was thinking about it, but in my head, “Father” Jace had a lot more to answer for than I did.
I shuddered at the thought of how he’d just thrown away his purity that night and wondered if he’d done it before. He sure seemed to know what he was doing.
I took a chance and glanced up towards the altar. He was blessing the Eucharist and not looking at me. Will the body and blood of Christ still be as holy after being blessed by a fallen priest?
I stared at his handsome face and wondered, if he was so willing to throw away his relationship with God by having illicit, drunken sex, what else might he be willing to do? What might he be willing to do in order to keep it a secret? I shivered again and then immediately chastised myself for those impure thoughts. Sex is a far stretch from murder.
I stuck out the mass until it was time to receive the Eucharist. The church was a large one so there were three lines. Father Jace was giving his out on the far right. I chose the line on the far left. After I received my communion, I stepped to the side, crossed myself and knelt quickly with a word of thanks to God our Savior; then, I slipped out the side door. I could finally breathe.
Chapter 14<
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Jace
I stood in the greeting line after mass was over and said hello to the people I’d already met and met quite a few people that I hadn’t seen before. I finished talking with a young couple that had just moved to the area and were looking to start a Bible study when I was surprised to see a familiar face.
“Hi, Jace.” Lily had been my girlfriend right out of high school for two years. She was as beautiful as ever. She had long, wild, dark hair and light blue eyes that seemed to look right through you sometimes. I had been in love with her, desperately so, once upon a time.
I took her hand and smiled back. “Lily, it’s so good to see you. Do you live here now?”
“Yes, I work here in town. I’d heard that you became a priest. Congratulations. I hope you’re happy.” I was. I was filled with more joy than I ever knew…right up until Grandmother died and it all fell apart. I forced a brighter smile and said, “I’m very happy, Lily. Thank you. How about you? Are you married? Any children?” She’d always wanted a big family. We talked about getting married, but we hadn’t made it official yet before she broke up with me. I wouldn’t have sex with her. I wanted to wait, and I was already considering the priesthood…or at the very least, becoming a Eucharistic minister.
She had told me she needed passion in her life. We went our separate ways, and I went on to the seminary. She was my last relationship before I became a priest and entered my relationship with God. The irony is that if I’d slept with her back then, it would have been much less of a sin than the one I’d committed a couple of weeks ago.
“I’m not married. I was engaged for a few years, but it didn’t work out. I’d love to have coffee sometime and catch up if you’re able?”
“I’d like that,” I told her honestly. It would be nice to share an afternoon talking with an old friend.