Dead silence greeted me, so I assumed the poor man was reduced to speechlessness. I couldn’t imagine how I would feel.
“Father, I don’t know what to do. I have begged God for mercy, asked Jesus for help, pleaded with the Holy Spirit for faith to overcome this affliction, to no avail. I am at a loss.”
“You must say your penance, my son, and not commit these transgressions again. Am I to assume you have not broken your vow of celibacy?”
“Besides kissing her, I have not.”
“God sends us many obstacles and Satan sends us many temptations. Just remember that God is very forgiving.” He doled out my penance and said his prayers of reconciliation, absolving me of my sins, while I recited the Act of Contrition. I left the confessional not feeling the tiniest bit better.
Saturday, it was my rotation to celebrate Mass. I was fully prepared and my soul was anxious to be spiritually fed. As I entered the sacristy, the expected sense of dread filled me. It was the scent of incense that triggered my harshest memories. I’d tried desensitizing myself over the years, to no avail. My body knew. It knew what to expect when the odor was near me. Sweat trickled down my forehead and chest, and I shuddered. Kneeling at the prayer station, I continued to ask God for assistance, though I knew it was fruitless. I knew all the appeals to God would go unanswered. Wasn’t I the ultimate sinner? Hadn’t I been told that all those years ago?
Many deep breaths later I put my vestments on and one of the altar servers stuck her head in and told me it was time.
I joined the small group in the vestibule, and on cue, the music began playing as we marched up the aisle. Celebrating Mass was a balm to my broken and dirty soul. I begged God’s forgiveness that he deemed me worthy as a celebrant.
As I walked to the podium to begin my homily, I glanced out among the church members, smiling, as I normally did. Only this time my vision stumbled upon a blonde-haired beauty seated in the front row. Haven. She’d made good on her promise. I wasn’t sure if she’d been serious, but now I knew.
My message for today was based on the Gospel of the Lord, and looking at her, smiling at me, had my hands shaking and my tongue tripping all over my words, as though it were my first speech in college.
My face heated as though the air conditioning in the church was broken. I sped through my lesson, ending it, unsure if it made any sense whatsoever. And at the end, I could’ve sworn she winked at me. My relief must’ve been written all over my face as I turned away from the congregation to move on to the Eucharist and consecration portion of the Mass. When I finally announced, “Mass is ended. Go in peace,” I wanted to kick my heels in the air. I nearly ran down the aisle to the exterior of the church.
Mostly young people attended this Mass. A few elderly parishioners were there, and I greeted them a bit overly enthusiastically. There was a good chance they thought I was high on drugs. At least I didn’t reek of alcohol. The younger members floated out and chatted a bit, but I knew she was hanging back. She was waiting for a time to talk without being seen by anyone. When I was the last man standing, I went inside, and there she sat, in the last pew, closest to the sacristy. Great.
“Nice threads. You’re looking rather priestly.”
“That’s what I am. A priest, you know.” Nervously, I glanced around to ensure we were alone. “Haven. A little warning would’ve been nice.”
“I thought I did warn you when I saw you last.”
“Hmm. If I recall correctly, you said, ‘See you Sunday.’ Today is Saturday.”
She waved her hand. “Oh, that minor detail. I figured I’d come today. Getting here on a Sunday morning might be problematic.”
“Why’s that?”
She had an impish look in her eye. “I like to sleep late.”
I pressed my lips together, trying to look stern, but failing, I was sure. “In other words, God is less important than sleep?”
Her lips formed a perfect little O, which didn’t help me in my predicament of wanting to kiss them. “That doesn’t sound very Catholic, does it?”
“Not very,” I grimaced.
“So, Father, about your homily.”
My face went from ninety-eight point six to a thousand degrees in a half second flat. “What about it?”
“Am I embarrassing you?”
“I think flustering me would be more apt,” I explained. “You must know how things are for me.”
Her chin dropped to her chest as she folded her arms. Her mutters were so quiet, I had to strain to hear. “Yes, I do. And no matter how hard I try, I can’t stop thinking about you. I want to, Canaan, I do. But my brain is on overdrive. There’s one question that keeps repeating itself in my head.”
“What’s that?” And I knew when the question left my mouth I never should’ve asked it.
“Why is it that the only man I’ve ever been interested in has to be one I can’t ever have?” Then she stood and without a backward glance, left me sitting there alone.
For the first time ever, I felt lonely in the house of the Lord.
****
The day I’d been dreading arrived. And how appropriate that it came with thunderstorms and rain. My appointment with Greg Clark and his wife was in thirty minutes and my panic was mounting. I had to calm myself before this got out of hand. Employing deep breathing exercises was all I had time for and that did very little for me.
They arrived and I ushered them both into my office. Celia Clark was very pregnant, and I could tell by the lines around her mouth and bruise-like moons under her eyes that she had been under a great deal of stress. My heart ached for this couple.
“May I get you something to drink? Water, coffee?” I asked.
They both declined.
Greg endlessly rubbed his hands on his pants and then together. I kept thinking he was going to run out of here. But then he’d look at his wife, and I knew he wanted to get this over with.
“So, both of you came today to work on some marital issues. Celia, Greg came to me last week and shared with me something that happened to him while he was a teenager…something you aren’t aware of. But before we get started here, I’d like for us to pray together. So if we could bow our heads.” And I said a prayer for them as a couple that their marriage could endure what Greg was about to disclose. When I finished, I said, “Celia, some of this may be difficult to believe, to even understand. But you must listen with an open mind and an open heart.”
Her bewilderment grew as I spoke, but it wasn’t my place to tell her the truth. Only Greg could do that. I nodded to him and that was his cue.
Greg ran a hand across his face and began. “Celia, you wanted to know why I’ve been acting strange. It has to do with moving back here. You’ve probably tied the two together.” He glanced at me and I nodded. “You see, when I was a teenager, I was an altar boy here at the church.”
Celia said, “I remember that.”
I had to commend Greg because now his voice was calm. “What you don’t know is that Father O’Brien r-r-raped me. He molested me.”
“What? How can that be?” she exclaimed.
Greg’s voice shifted from calm to dead. “Like I said, I was an altar boy, and the first time it happened after Saturday Mass.”
“Wasn’t anyone around?” Celia wanted to know.
“No,” Greg said. “We were alone in the sacristy. I had changed my clothes and then collected all the items from the altar and took them back to the sacristy, like we usually did. When I got there he asked me if all the people were gone. They were and I told him that. Then he told me to lock the door. At first I was surprised because he’d never asked me to do that. But it was Father O’Brien, so I always did what he asked. Only I should’ve run away. As fast and as hard as my legs could’ve carried me. It was awful. The first time. I never knew something could be so…”
My vision spun as I was sucked back in time. Fear and pain swirled into one as his words mirrored my memories. Father O’Brien had given different reasons for his trans
gressions, but his doled out punishment remained the same.
“Wait,” Celia said. “Why didn’t you tell anyone?”
Many reasons, I thought to myself, feeling the crushing weight of guilt from her question.
“More than anything, shame,” Greg said.
“I don’t understand. How could you let him do that to you and not say anything?”
Greg lost all color from his face, and I had to intervene. The words clawed at my throat, but I managed to get them out.
“Celia, this isn’t a place of judgement. We aren’t here to question Greg about something he can’t change. We’re here to offer him support and a safe place so he can share this with you. He loves you and wanted you to understand why he’s been acting the way he has lately.”
Her eyes filled, so I handed her a tissue.
“And it happened here in this church?” she asked.
He nodded while she looked all around.
“You’re so very brave,” Celia whispered.
She had no idea.
Greg needed more help than I could possibly offer. So I suggested they seek out a family therapist while offering to continue to counsel them if they wanted additional support.
After they left, time came to a paralyzing halt. I found myself in my room as the memories assaulted me with a one-two punch. Celia’s questions had been some of my own. I’d thought I’d protected myself, making sure I wouldn’t be alone with Father O’Brien after the first time. Yet somehow he’d caught me unawares again. Positively frozen in fear, his touch sent me to another place where I retreated and pretended I was anywhere else in the world.
But it was his voice in my ear that would constantly bring me back as if he knew what I’d tried to do. His heated breath against my neck made me ill as he grunted words like sinner, temptation, and lust into my ear. Most of all, his reasons for doing the things to me had always been my fault. And weren’t they? I’d been a magnet for unwanted attention all my life. Only he’d been the only one to act on that desire.
I woke in the middle of the night gasping for air. The feeling of his hand on my back pressing my face forward into the table crawled over my skin. I quickly stripped my shirt and reached for the leather belt that was never far from my bed. Whipping it over my shoulder quickly masked the remembered feel of his skin against mine. The burn of the belt was better than the burn I’d experienced years ago.
My eyes seared with the disgrace from Celia’s questions to her husband, which were a reflection of my own. I’d kept my ordeal to myself and others had suffered. Maybe I had been ground zero, but there had been more. The real question was—how many more? Father O’Brien led me to believe I was the only one. But that wasn’t true at all.
Bile rose to my throat and sent me to my small bathroom to empty the contents of my stomach. What was worse, over time during his possession of me, I’d lost control of my own body. It would react even as my hate for the monster behind me consumed my soul.
I stood in the mirror and splashed water on my face as I pondered for the millionth time what my body’s reaction had meant? It was a question I never thought would be answered until she came into my life.
Haven.
My small bed dipped under my weight. As I breathed in her scent that still seared my sheets, I knew Father O’Brien had been right about me all along. I was a sinner because she was all I could ever want and never have.
Why was I so flirty with him? Why did I have to make him so uncomfortable during what should’ve been his peaceful time? But in all fairness, I did tell him. Well, maybe not. Like he said, he thought I was coming on Sunday, not tonight. I really needed to scrub these smutty thoughts of Father Canaan Sullivan from my mind. Why did he have to be a fucking priest? Or an un-fucking priest as it were? I laughed at my little joke.
Macie was just about to take a giant bite of pizza when I walked into the apartment. “Can you possibly fit any more of that in your mouth?” I teased.
Her cheeks bulged as she tried to answer but then gave up, laughing as she held her index finger in the air. I motioned to the box of pizza, asking for permission, and she nodded. Glad to see she’d ordered it, I eagerly grabbed a piece and took a bite, though not one nearly as large as hers.
“Sorry. I was starved. I hadn’t eaten all day,” she admitted.
I swallowed my bite. “From the looks of it, it could’ve been all month.”
She threw her napkin at me. “Shut up. So where have you been?”
Around my bite, I managed to say, “I went to church.”
“Church? Where?”
“Holy Cross.”
“What? Why’d you do that? You never go to…oh my God. Or should I say priest?”
“Staaaaap!”
“I will not. Spill. All of it.”
After my pizza was sitting comfortably in my stomach, I said, “I went to see him the other night. I was tired of messing around.”
“Messing around?”
“Macie, I swear when I went out with Wilson the other night, all I saw was Canaan. Everywhere I looked I thought I saw him. It was crazy. I’m crazy.”
“Yes, you are. Canaan’s off limits. You can’t have him. I know I teased you about him. But he’s untouchable. Get over it, okay?”
I fell back against the couch, grabbed a pillow, and cuddled it against me. “I know that. But it’s not helping me. He told me we couldn’t see each other. After the second kiss. But it was driving me batshit crazy. That’s why I went. And he reiterated it so I told him I would become a church member. If that’s the only way to be his friend, then that’s what I’ll do.”
She gawked at me in disbelief. “You don’t honestly expect me to believe that, do you?”
“Believe what?”
“That you only want to be his friend?”
“But I do,” I insisted. Only I wasn’t sure if I was trying to convince her or me. “He’s like a drug. If I try to stop cold turkey, he’ll constantly be on my mind. This way, I can ease my way out of my crazy thoughts.”
“Come on, Haven, this is me, Macie, your bestie you’re talking to.”
“Ugh!” I buried my head in my hands. “I don’t know what I want. I don’t know him very well, but I want him more than I’ve wanted any other man.” My hand flew to my mouth, covering it. I hadn’t meant to say that. And even that wasn’t the entire truth. I wanted more with Canaan than I had with other men.
“I knew it! I just knew it. You want to fuck the priest!”
“Oh, Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, what am I gonna do?”
“Well, you can’t fuck him. He’s off limits, you ho. You’re gonna have to take out your sexual frustrations somewhere else. Another guy or your silicone rabbit.”
“Don’t you think I know that?” I got up and took my empty plate into the kitchen. She followed me.
“Maybe you need a change of scenery. Why don’t we head to the beach in the morning? You’ve been working your ass off and this is a great time to be at the beach.”
I stalled. I hated bathing suits. She knew why.
Macie jumped in to halt my train of thought from getting too far down the tracks to Hell. “That’s why I said this is a great time to be at the beach. It won’t be blistering hot and you can leave your shirt on. No one will think a thing of it. Wear a one-piece with extra coverage, too.”
“That’s all I have, you dork.”
“Right. Well, you in?”
“I guess.”
“Coolsies. Let’s leave around ten.”
I agreed and headed to my room. When I got there, an image of Canaan celebrating Mass struck me. I couldn’t get the many faces of him out of my head. I always kept a canvas ready to go set up on an easel just for these inspiring moments. Sometimes they turned out to be nothing more than pieces of junk I trashed. But I wasn’t sleepy, so I grabbed a palette, my spare brushes, and paints, and started mixing.
The first image of him was the way he looked after I kissed him the first time. Startled eyes
the color of a forest at dusk, lips slightly parted, and dark hair that wasn’t perfectly in place but not exactly messy either. Anyone looking at the picture wouldn’t call him sexy, but to me he was sinfully so. His beauty radiated off the canvas in such a way, I found it difficult to get oxygen past my scorched throat. Once I completed the central image, I stared at it long into the night. If I had to say, it was probably my best work yet. It far surpassed anything I’d ever done. Was it because I had feelings for him? I didn’t have an appropriate answer, but I had to finish this piece quickly. I would work on it every night until it was completed.
The next morning, Macie knocked and woke me up. “Are you ready?”
I grumbled something to her about oversleeping. That was a mistake because she walked in and there was no hiding the painting.
“Holy fucking priests. You did all that last night?”
“Uh, yeah.” I still was in bed.
“Jaysus, Have. I’ve never seen anything like it. Are you done?”
“No, I’ve only started. I’m doing the many faces of Canaan.”
“Look at me. Right here.” She made a V of her two fingers and directed them at her eyes. “What’s going on in that head of yours?”
“What’d’ya mean?”
She pinched her lower lip. “Uh, you don’t do shit like that for the hell of it.”
“Oh, I couldn’t sleep.”
“Okay. Usually when you can’t sleep, you watch Netflix or read.”
She stood there, waiting for an answer. She was right. But I didn’t know what to tell her. Taking a seat on the bed, she grabbed my hand. “You have to give it up. He’s out of reach. What, is he going to leave the priesthood for you so you guys can live happily ever after? Is that what this is all about?”
“No,” I said, snatching my hand away.
“You swear?”
“Yes, I swear.”
“God, I hope so. I don’t want you to get hurt. You’ve guarded your heart for all these years, the last thing I want is for you to fall for someone who is completely off the grid.”
“I know. Me too.”
Her eyes were so sympathetic, I wanted to cry. Instead, I said, “How about we blow this joint and go to the beach?”
A Beautiful Sin Page 15