Love By its First Name

by Hanley, Don;

  They continued to discuss the Church, their new assignments and complaints about the Bishop of Aberdeen. Around six they decided to have dinner at Le Restaurante de Paris. Kathy was relieved when Wayne indicated that he would have to head back to Aberdeen after dinner. She changed clothes in the spare bedroom, exchanging the shorts for white slacks. When she came back into the living room, she winked at both priests and said, “We don’t want to scandalize the faithful, do we, gentlemen?”

  Wayne stood up and asked Kathy to turn around. She hesitated for a moment and then, with only a little self-consciousness, put her hands on her hips and turned slowly as she thought a fashion model might do it. “How’s this?” She gave them a coquettish smile.

  “Won’t do, you look too delicious.” Wayne gave her a hug. He let her go and turned to Jerry. “Your turn.”

  “Nope, she’s too, uh, delicious.” Jerry turned away.

  Kathy didn’t know if he was upset, embarrassed or what. Part of her wanted to apologize to him, but she didn’t know for what. After pondering a moment, she blurted out: “How come he can hug me but you can’t?”

  “Because…” Wayne hesitated and then went on, “I’ll tell you, if you promise to keep it confidential, okay?”

  What in the world is he talking about? She put a finger on her chin and said, “O…kay.”

  “Because I’m gay and he’s not.”

  “You’re kidding? Wayne, you’re gay? Really?” Wayne nodded solemnly and Kathy threw her arms around him and kissed him on the cheek. “Wow! That’s wonderful!” She had no idea why she said that. She looked at Wayne as if it was the first time. He was about the same height as she, five feet eight inches, muscular and a classically handsome masculine face only a little diminished by a receding hairline. In no way did he look effeminate or gay. She then realized that she had no idea what a gay man was supposed to look like. Anyway, he didn’t look like the stereotype she’d imagined.

  Wayne held her at arms’ length. “What’s so damn wonderful about it?”

  “I don’t know really…I guess because you’d tell me about it. Who else knows?”

  Wayne turned his hand with his thumb pointing at Jerry. “And now you.”

  “And that’s all?” She put her arms around him again and kissed his cheek.

  “I’m sure glad I didn’t tell you when you were at St. Gabriel’s. If you’d been that affectionate toward me then, we really would have scandalized the faithful.” They all laughed.

  Kathy suddenly looked serious and put her hands in front of her in a prayerful manner. “I would have been very proper and respectful, just as I always was. And I always was, wasn’t I, Jerry?” It would have been wonderful if they had this kind of banter back then.

  * * *

  “Definitely.” For the life of him, he couldn’t figure out why she was so excited about Wayne’s gayness. Maybe she’s gay, too.

  Le Restaurante was pleasantly full and Jerry introduced Wayne and Kathy to Joe Gaffin, “our esteemed county sheriff”, and his wife, Miriam, then to the couple who owned the restaurant, and several other people he had met in the five weeks he had been in Paris.

  When they sat down, Kathy said, “I’ll bet that by Christmas, you’ll know everyone in town.”

  “I’m sure everybody believes they already know me.”

  Despite its name, Le Restaurante was a typical small Midwestern café’—steak, pork chops, or chicken; mashed potatoes and gravy, green beans or peas, and salad. It did have tablecloths and linen napkins, and the food was well prepared.

  Wayne left for Aberdeen as soon as they returned to the rectory after dinner. Kathy and Jerry went into the house. She petted Plato as she sat down on the couch. Jerry sat opposite her on the recliner. She seemed very serious as she said, “Jerry, I’m glad I can have some time to talk to you alone.”

  “How much time do we have? Do you have to get back to the university tonight?”

  “No.” She broke into an impish grin. “I was hoping I could stay over. I notice you have an extra bed.”

  “Kathy, you know better than that. You were raised in a small town. Ashland, isn’t it?” She nodded. “I’ll bet you that someone already knows that you and I are alone together right now, and half the town will know by tomorrow. If you stayed overnight in this house…”

  “Yes, I know. That’s all you’d need to really scandalize everybody, right?” She didn’t wait for an answer. “I really hoped I could stay in a motel or bed and breakfast, but I didn’t see anything like that when I drove in. I was hoping I could spend some time with you tomorrow.” She looked away as if scolding herself for being stupid. The serious look returned, not serious, but sad, as if she were about to cry.

  Jerry snapped his fingers and Kathy looked over at him, startled. “I’ve got an idea.

  There’s a wonderful woman who lives with her ailing father a couple of miles outside of town. I’ll bet she would love to have some company. I’ll call her.” He stood up.

  “Are you sure it wouldn’t be too much trouble?”

  “I really don’t think so. She rattles around a big, old farmhouse. I’ll find out, okay?” He went into the office and called Marge Woerner. Returning to the living room, Jerry said, “Marge said, and I quote, she would be ‘delighted’ to have you. I told her I would lead you out there at nine. How’s that?”

  “That’s fine, thank you. What’s she like?”

  “Her name is Dr. Marge Woerner but she doesn’t like to be called ‘doctor’ except by her students at Northwestern University. She is a doctor of chemistry and now is on leave to take care of her father, who is terminally ill.”

  “She grew up around here?”

  “Yes. She’s very down-to-earth and unpretentious. I’m sure you’ll like her.” He started to tell Kathy that he had gone horseback riding with Marge but changed his mind. “Kathy, you wanted to talk to me about something. What is it?”

  “Well, first, I want to thank you for the sermon you gave about sex. You know I wasn’t there that day because I was on retreat, but I read about it. I thought of just calling you, but I really wanted to say what I have to say in person. You know that when you are on retreat, you’re not supposed to read newspapers or magazines. Anyway, not all the nuns at the Motherhouse were on retreat and I heard two of them talking about the scandalous article in the paper and your name was mentioned. I snuck into the parlor and when I saw the headlines, ‘Hero Priest Blasts His Church,’ I nearly fainted. I read the article and well, I was so relieved.”

  Jerry leaned forward in the chair. “Why’s that?”

  “Remember when I first met you. I came to you for confession about two years before I was assigned to St. Gabriel’s?”

  “Yes, I remember.” He sounded calmer than he felt. Her confession had haunted him for the past six years and as she sat there with her legs folded under her, it still did. He guessed that she had been about twenty-one at the time. She had heard a talk he had given at a religious education conference and thought he would understand her “problem.” Then, as now, she was beautiful with natural blond hair and a peaches-and-cream complexion. Many people would say that she was “drop-dead gorgeous”, even without makeup. Her “problem” was masturbation and the chaplain at the Motherhouse had told her that because of it, she should leave the convent. A problem like that, he said, was a sure sign that she did not have a calling to the religious life. She was in tears. Two times previously, nuns had confessed the “sin” of masturbation but that was in the confessional box and he did not know them and they sounded older than Kathy. Remembering this beautiful young woman in front of him confessing that she masturbated nearly every day excited him beyond belief. He remembered crossing his legs and calmly telling her what he had told the other two nuns, teenage boys, and everyone else with the “problem.” In his view, masturbation was not a sin and his basic message was to enjoy it and forget it. He gave her a couple of book-references by Catholic moral theologians who agreed with him, as well as
other publications.

  “Well, at that time, your telling me that masturbation wasn’t a sin actually saved my life.” Evidently Kathy saw the puzzled look on his face and added. “Really it did. I was so down on myself that I was thinking about suicide. I even had a plan. So thank you, again. The books you recommended helped too. And believe it or not, I did quit masturbating compulsively, I guess you’d say. The book, For Yourself, really helped. You did read that one, didn’t you?”

  “Yes.” He wasn’t being entirely honest. He had read parts of it but reading intimate details about how women can and should pleasure themselves to orgasm was just too much. He agreed with the book, but it still disturbed him. “So, how did my sermon help you this time?”

  “You came right out and said what you believe—publicly.”

  Jerry chuckled. “And you see where it got me?”

  Kathy did not smile. “I’m surprised it got you anywhere except out of the priesthood. My brother, the Jesuit, said he was surprised the Bishop didn’t defrock you. Why didn’t he?”

  “He threatened to, but I told him that if he did, I would sue him for violating my rights.”

  Kathy laughed. “You didn’t!”

  “I did. I knew it was an empty gesture because it has been tried before and was thrown out of court. Bishop Mazurski knew that too, and told me so. I said, “I know, Bishop, but with the press I’ve been getting, it would make headlines for a few months.’ He’s very publicity-shy, you know? Anyway, he said I should come here and be a good boy, not talk to reporters or make any more public statements about sex. He called it ‘human reproduction.’ If I’m a good boy for three years, I may be re-assigned. You know, Kathy, I really like it here.”

  “You do! Jerry, this is an awful place. I thought Ashland was bad, but it’s a bustling metropolis compared to this.”

  “Anyway, I’m glad that the sermon was helpful.”

  “Obviously, I didn’t complete the retreat. It was in preparation for my final vows, you know.”

  Jerry crossed his legs. The damn jeans are too tight. He wasn’t about to let Kathy know how uncomfortable this conversation was making him. He was sure the Church fathers who first began to make nearly everything about sex a sin did it because they were protecting themselves from what he was feeling this very moment. “I thought you made final vows a couple of years ago.”

  “I was supposed to, but I put it off. Now, I’m glad I did.”

  He really wanted to drop the whole subject but thought to himself that it was time to be a little more courageous. A little arousal wasn’t going to kill him or force him to do anything that he didn’t want to do. He wasn’t going to tell Kathy what he discovered, looking back, about his own masturbation. At the time, believing it was sinful, was what kept him from being a complete holier-than-thou jerk in the seminary and the early years of the priesthood. He had religiously kept all the rules and only did and said what was “proper”, but he just couldn’t overcome the “sin” of masturbation. Thank God for old Father Fisher, who said to him what he has been saying to Kathy and others.

  Kathy pushed her hair back. “You know, Jerry, you were always kind of aloof from me. Did you know that you always gave Sister Martha a fuller and longer hug than you ever gave me?” She gave him a rather sad and questioning look. When he did not respond right away, she looked away and added, “That sounds rather childish, doesn’t it?”

  Jerry wasn’t sure where she was going with this or how his sermon had made her feel free, and couldn’t, for the life of him, figure out how hugs had anything to do with it. He decided to be straight forward about the aloofness issue. “Okay, Kathy, I guess it’s about time I was more honest with you. The reason I deliberately kept some distance from you is, uh, well, I, uh, was bothered by you.”

  Kathy, looking hurt, interrupted him. “Bothered by me? Why? My personality, lack of knowledge, looks, what?” She bit her lip and again looked away.

  Jerry chuckled, “No, no, none of that. You have a wonderful personality, an excellent mind, and, of course, you are very beautiful.” She looked startled—disbelieving. He went on, “Kathy, it was that confession. Every time I saw you or thought about you, I thought of you as a sexual person. Of course, everyone is a sexual person, but every woman doesn’t bother me. Now, I’ll sound childish, or at least immature, as my seminary professors would have said, you were ‘an occasion of sin’ for me.” He was sure he was blushing, at least his face felt like it.

  “But I never flirted with you or was disrespectful to you, was I?” Her face showed her confusion.

  “No, you were always very proper, pleasant, easy to be around. It was something in me, something that I just couldn’t get rid of.”

  Now Kathy seemed irritated. “Are you saying, Jerry, that you saw me only as a sex object?”

  He looked at the ceiling. God, how could he get out of this one? “No, er, well, I only but, well, I was trying not to and I guess I thought that it would help if I kept some distance from you.”

  “If that newspaper article was accurate, you said in your sermon that sex is natural. Is it natural for everyone else, but not for you? Is that it?” The anger in her voice had not gone away.

  Jerry rubbed his hands together in front of him nervously. He felt himself redden again as he said, “Kathy, this vow of celibacy is really difficult. I, uh, do, uh, practice what I preach, I guess you’d say, because I do masturbate.” He had never told another soul that outside of confession. “I’m sorry.” Why in hell did he say that? Sorry for what?

  Kathy mirrored his thoughts, as she asked, “Sorry for what? That you’re human?

  Anyway, thanks for telling me that. I suspected it but, well…” She stood up and, in a rather hesitant voice, asked, “Would you give me a Sister Martha kind of hug?”

  “Sure.” He got out of the recliner and put his arms around her and held her tight. To his surprise and relief, he didn’t get too aroused. “I’m sorry Kathy if I seemed cold to you all these years.”

  “That’s okay,” she said into his shirt.

  * * *

  When they were about a mile outside of town, on their way to Marge Woerner’s place, Kathy honked her horn and flashed her lights to get Jerry to stop his car. He stopped his car on the side of the gravel road and she pulled her car up behind him and turned off the lights. As she got out of the car, she shouted, “Jerry, would you turn off your lights and join me for a moment.”

  He joined her beside the road and asked, “Is something wrong?”

  She looked up at the moonless sky. The rain had cleansed the air and the stars sparkled wondrously. The few lights of Paris were only a faint glow. She said, “No, there’s nothing wrong. I just wanted to look at the stars. She hesitated only a moment before moving next to him and putting her arm around his waist. Without taking her eyes off the stars, she said, “You know, Jerry, when I was young, I used to go outside like this and look at the stars. It made me feel closer to God. I really missed that when I was in Aberdeen.” She was glad he didn’t push her away. She couldn’t remember when she felt so alive and close to someone. It was a romantic setting and, in a way, she hoped Jerry felt so too—maybe even feeling a bit sexy. She wondered if she should feel guilty for thinking that and, maybe, a little guilty for not feeling guilty.

  Jerry surprised her by saying, “I’m sorry to say that I haven’t noticed the stars lately. You know what, Kathy?” She looked up at him and he added, “You are wonder-filled, you know that?” She felt warm all over when he put his arm around her and rested his hand on her shoulder.

  She squeezed him with one arm and whispered, “Thank you.”

  They stood there for a few more minutes and she was disappointed when Jerry said, “I’m afraid Marge will wonder what happened to us.”

  Marge was waiting on the front porch when they arrived. Jerry gave her a Sister Martha kind of hug and Kathy was instantly jealous of the statuesque, very sophisticated-looking, and beautiful woman with brunette hair who looked
to be in her early forties. She had a wonderful smile as she took Kathy’s hand in both of hers and said, “Welcome to my home, Kathy.” She sounded like she meant it.

  * * *

  Jerry started Saturday morning by taking Communion to Alice Peterson and two other elderly shut-ins in the parish. He spent two hours with a Mexican-American family learning conversational Spanish and working with them on a sermon for the Sunday Mass. He had begun having Mass near the shanties at the dairy and egg ranch on sunny Sundays. He hoped to entice them to attend Mass in the church as soon as possible.

  Kathy came back to the rectory in early afternoon and told him that Marge wanted them both to join her for dinner. After about half hour of uncomfortable conversation, Jerry took Kathy across the street to meet Alice Peterson. He excused himself and went back to the house to work on his English sermons. One for the youth Mass that evening and another for Sunday morning.

  At dinner, Kathy managed to make him uncomfortable by telling Marge about all the wonderful work he did at St. Gabriel’s and at the Diocesan Religious Education Office. Jerry left at six-thirty and the two women said that they planned to see him at Mass.

  Sy and Alice Peterson’s youngest son, an amateur guitarist, had formed a rock band with three of his friends: two boys and a girl. They had a lot of spirit, if not developed talent, as they warmed up for the second youth Mass at St. Patrick’s. Only about twenty young people had attended the previous week. By 7 p.m. between forty and fifty youths and a few adults were in attendance. During Mass, Jerry noticed that Kathy, an accomplished musician, winced several times as the band struggled through their numbers. She had played the guitar at the youth Mass at St. Gabriel’s.

  After Mass, Marge and Kathy joined Jerry in the rectory. They talked a little about the Mass and the music. At the end of the discussion, Kathy said, “You know, Jerry, I was thinking. I could help out the kids with their music if you would want me to and, of course, if the kids are open to it.”