Every Saint a Sinner

by Pearl Solas

  As his awareness of his surroundings expanded, Paul recognized that he was in his office at the parochial school where he had spent the most fulfilling part of his career. Lucid enough to recognize he was dreaming, Paul marveled at the level of detail his mind conjured in furnishing his familiar, lavish office. The shades of fabric on the draperies and the sumptuous chairs were remarkably precise and vivid. His brain even supplied the stubborn ring at the corner of the desk from when a careless student had failed to use a coaster.

  Paul enjoyed revisiting these surroundings—running his unfamiliar hands over the familiar, polished surface of his desk, breathing in the soothing aroma of the books that lined the substantial bookshelf, and standing up to peer at the many framed photographs of himself with various dignitaries.

  While he contemplated a photo of himself with a devout Senator who had donated generously to the school, the office door opened to admit . . . himself. Paul was struck dumb by the strange dislocation of observing himself from outside of himself. His other-self smiled sardonically and said wryly, “I see you’ve made yourself at home, Joshua.” His other self winked to take the sting out of any perceived rebuke.

  The words added a strange overlay of memory to the perception of Paul’s dream self, and in addition to realizing he was observing himself from the perspective of fifteen-year-old Joshua Phillips, he now remembered this precise encounter. He recalled how he had surprised Joshua exhibiting a somewhat unexpected degree of familiarity while waiting in his office. As the déjà vu suggested the rest of the meeting to his consciousness, he experienced a vague trepidation.

  Through Joshua’s eyes, Paul watched himself cross the room, an easy, white-toothed smile offering forgiveness for Joshua having overstepped himself. As Paul clapped a strong hand on his shoulder, Paul-as-Joshua smelled Paul’s subtle aroma of soap and aftershave, and Paul’s hand remained on his shoulder as he began telling the stories behind many of the photos Joshua had been examining. Throughout the conversation, Joshua felt a low level of unease about Paul’s persistent proximity and lingering physical contact. An outside observer wouldn’t necessarily have detected anything improper, but Joshua had a vague sense that he and Paul were standing slightly too close together. Joshua’s discomfort was heightened when Paul subtly brushed against him while reaching across to direct attention to a photo hanging on the far side of Joshua.

  As if he sensed Joshua’s disquiet, Paul said abruptly, “Well, enough of that, Josh. You didn’t come here to listen to me relive the glory days. Have a seat and we’ll talk about what you can be doing now to make sure that, by the time you’re applying to colleges, you’ll have an impressive list of achievements and glowing letters of recommendation.”

  Joshua obediently moved across the desk to take a seat, relief mixing with eagerness. He appreciated the interest Father Paul had taken in him over the past several months, and he knew that the boys Father Paul previously mentored had their pick of the best colleges. Joshua wanted to be a science major, and thrilled at the thought of participating in the most advanced scientific research at the most prestigious universities.

  And he wasn’t just in Father Paul’s office because he wanted help getting into a great college. He enjoyed being around Father Paul and he was honored that Father Paul had taken an interest in him. If he had recently begun to feel twinges of anxiety during their increasingly frequent meetings, he didn’t dwell on it. Instead he shoved those emotions down deep—where feelings belonged, according to his family’s culture.

  Even if he had chosen to explore his unease, Joshua probably would not have been able to pinpoint its source. Father Paul had been generous with his time and his talents. In addition to his charisma, Joshua had come to appreciate Father Paul’s incisive intelligence and wit. As Joshua’s appreciation for Father Paul grew, Father Paul’s interest in Joshua’s success also seemed to grow—he invited Joshua to accompany him to the school’s ritzy annual fundraiser, advising that such networking opportunities eventually could yield impressive letters of recommendation.

  If Father Paul sometimes stood closer than was comfortable, and if his hand sometimes lingered too long after an encouraging pat on the back, Joshua didn’t dwell on his confusion. He had no context for an interpretation that would give him cause for overt alarm. He was not so sheltered that he was unaware of pedophilia and homosexuality, but he thought of pedophiles as men who preyed on small boys—boys too young and weak to resist—and homosexuals as effeminate men who had no affinity for masculine pursuits like sports. Father Paul was confident, ruggedly athletic, and dominant. And he implicitly acknowledged Joshua’s own heterosexuality by asking him about the girls he liked. Father Paul also supplied the same strange encouragement that Joshua’s parents and other adults exhibited: a sort of perverse biological pride in what they perceived to be his ability to attract a flock of girls and to “play the field.” Of course, these same parents never would have offered the same encouragement if their daughters had demonstrated the same capacity.

  Father Paul and Joshua passed a pleasant and productive half hour discussing Joshua’s school list and his progress on a number of tasks Father Paul had assigned. Finally, they decided on a plan for tasks to complete before their next meeting.

  As Father Paul and Joshua were finishing up, Father Paul took a set of keys from his pocket and opened the credenza near where Joshua sat. As he reached in to extract a bottle of scotch and two crystal tumblers, he asked, “Any big plans for the weekend?”

  Joshua explained that he planned on an early night because he had a track meet the next day and he was scheduled to participate in five events. He was also going to see the new Kevin Harlow film, which had received great reviews. No one who had seen it would talk about it with anyone who hadn’t, so as not to give away any spoilers. He had already bought the tickets.

  “Who are you taking?” asked Father Paul with a knowing smile as he handed Joshua one of the two tumblers containing three fingers of amber liquid. Joshua flushed slightly, both because a large part of his excitement about the movie plans related to the fact that he’d asked Kendra Scott to join him, and because he wanted to keep his cool during the unprecedented experience of sharing a drink with Father Paul. Joshua wasn’t a stranger to alcohol—he had drunk beer with his friends at parties, and he had gigglingly joined his friends in taking swigs from their parents’ liquor bottles. It was new and unexpected, however, for a grown man to casually hand Joshua a glass in the same manner as he might offer a drink to a colleague.

  Joshua tried to strike the right balance between sufficient gravitas and nonchalance. Unconsciously, Joshua adopted the expression and body language he had observed when his father’s friends accepted drinks at parties: he nodded his thanks almost imperceptibly, and then crossed one leg over the other so that his right ankle rested on his left thigh, while draping his arm over the chair’s armrest and leaning back into the seat with a slight slouch as if to say, “Whew, what a week—time to take a load off!”

  If Father Paul was amused by Joshua’s studiedly casual approach, his face did not embarrass Joshua by betraying anything but relaxation and camaraderie. In the part of his dreaming brain that was Paul, he recalled being amused and impressed by Joshua’s moxie—the insouciance with which he accepted the drink had been such a departure from the other boys. Paul had needed to look away and pretend to be distracted by reaching down to address a non-existent fleck on the carpet to avoid chuckling when Joshua’s first taste of the scotch appeared to be closer to a gulp than a sip. He remembered imagining the surprise Joshua must have experienced.

  Indeed, Joshua nearly choked when the slight burn and foul taste registered. But he steeled himself, and relaxed and then constricted his throat to swallow the unpleasant mouthful. He observed the small sip Father Paul pulled from his glass and, after recovering while they further discussed his weekend plans, he mimicked Father Paul’s draws. The reduced quantity made the scotch significantly more palatable, if not actually ple
asant.

  Joshua and Father Paul slowly drained their glasses, passing another thirty minutes of conversation. The scotch warmed them, and Joshua felt a general sensation of well-being spread through his body. The earlier slight misgivings about Father Paul disappeared, and he just felt grateful for Father Paul’s assistance, and proud of his own sophistication.

  When both glasses were empty, Father Paul took Joshua’s tumbler and opened the credenza, saying, “Time for one more?” Although Joshua needed to get home to do the homework that would otherwise get lost in his busy weekend, he grinned and said, “Why not?”

  Joshua and Father Paul began their second drinks, which Joshua noticed were somewhat more full than the previous had been. Joshua settled back into the comfortable leather armchair and took a sip as if he’d had years of practice. He asked about Father Paul’s time at university, and was surprised to learn that, while in college, Father Paul had not been a particularly serious student—he had managed his academic responsibilities, but in a way that left plenty of room for his fraternity, parties, and, most surprisingly, girls.

  The last admission surprised Joshua and made him feel honored to be taken into Father Paul’s confidence. “Really?” he asked, “You dated a lot of girls in college?”

  “I’m not proud of it, but more than ‘dated,’” Father Paul admitted wryly. “I didn’t always treat those young ladies with a great deal of respect.”

  “How about you?” asked Father Paul. “Any special girls on your radar?”

  The question caused Joshua to flush. “There is a girl,” he conceded.

  “Does she like you back?”

  “I don’t know,” Joshua groaned. “Sometimes it seems like she does, but other times she basically ignores me.” Joshua explained his confusion about Kendra’s conflicting signals, and his excitement for Saturday night’s date. His inhibitions were relaxed because of the alcohol, and were further relaxed with his new understanding that Father Paul had not always been a celibate cleric. Maybe he actually understood the alternate despair and elation caused by the mystery of the opposite sex. Joshua shared more of his feelings about Kendra—how her attention warmed him, her indifference left him desolate, and her beauty drove him to distraction. Joshua’s description of Kendra’s physical charms became more enthusiastic than his internal filter would have allowed if he had been sober, and he noticed, without alarm but with a flicker of amusement, that his last few words had been somewhat slurred. He considered repeating the slurred words more slowly to demonstrate that he was not drunk, but then he remembered what he had actually said. He’d been crude and inappropriate. To a priest. A priest who held a great deal of influence over his future. Coloring deeply, Joshua stammered a hasty apology.

  Father Paul merely chuckled and reached for Joshua’s empty glass, setting it and his own nearly full glass on the desk.

  “Listen, Josh,” he said, patting Joshua on the knee, “it’s natural for a young man like you to have these feelings, and to express them. What’s unnatural is to keep them bottled up and to pretend they don’t exist. For men, especially, it’s important to have an outlet for these urges, or we run the risk of being unable to focus on our work and other responsibilities.”

  Joshua gulped and nodded, unable to do more to express his gratitude for Father Paul’s understanding. Father Paul’s hand remained on his knee, gently rubbing back and forth as he said the words intended to ease Joshua’s discomfort.

  “I assume, based on what you said, that you haven’t been physical with Kendra. Is that right?

  Joshua’s eyes widened, and he nodded.

  “Have you been physical with any other girls?”

  Joshua remained mute as he shook his head.

  Father Paul nodded knowingly, as if he were a doctor who had been given the final piece of information necessary for a definitive diagnosis.

  “Sometimes, when we’re new to all of this, it’s helpful to be able to explore and experiment with people we trust.” As he spoke, Father Paul’s short, gentle strokes extended from Joshua’s knee to his upper thigh. Joshua froze at the rapid, unanticipated, and unmistakable escalation.

  The persistent, subconscious apprehension broke the surface of Joshua’s awareness, and he could no longer avoid Father Paul’s intent. The knowledge confounded him. He couldn’t square the way Father Paul was rubbing his leg with what he knew about the unimpeachable nature of priests and their wholly holy calling. These contradictions would have been too much even for his sober brain. And Joshua was anything but sober. He was frozen by confusion as Father Paul’s hand traveled further up Joshua’s thigh, brushing lightly over his crotch. To Joshua’s horror and further puzzlement, he realized he had an erection. Still paralyzed by shock and indecision, Joshua remained silent with his gaze averted. Father Paul’s hand returned to Joshua’s crotch and stroked with determined pressure.

  Joshua continued to work to unlock the puzzle of what was happening. Father Paul wasn’t just a priest, a chosen conduit with a direct line to God, he was an important man with wide-ranging connections. These facts contrasted with Joshua’s long understanding that sexual intimacy between men was unnatural and sinful. And Father Paul had explained he was doing a kindness for Joshua—helping to overcome his inexperience so that he would be better prepared for physical interaction with women. Surely Father Paul, who was wise and worldly, had a better understanding of this than Joshua did.

  Joshua continued to struggle with these contradictions as Father Paul pulled him to his feet. Joshua found that his legs were unwilling to support him and, as if anticipating this, Father Paul supported Joshua’s weight by bending his knees, wrapping his arm underneath Joshua’s armpits, and leaning the boy against himself.

  With one arm occupied by supporting Joshua, Father Paul’s other hand continued to stroke Joshua’s crotch outside of his pants, and then he unbuttoned Joshua’s trousers and, with a smooth movement, slid the pants and underwear down his legs. Joshua murmured something incomprehensible as Father Paul took hold of his penis, and his confused brain gave way as his body reacted to the unprecedented and inescapably pleasurable sensation. With a shudder and a flush of shame, Joshua’s body betrayed him as he climaxed.

  After the physical release, Joshua, on the precipice of losing consciousness, was unable to move as he felt Father Paul drape him gently over the desk. He did not fight the blissful unconsciousness that overtook him within seconds.

  Joshua was startled back to semi-consciousness by a pain that was at once agonizingly sharp and steadily achy. His face pressed against the polished desk, Joshua could not regain clarity of thought, but what wits that remained identified what was happening to him with a sickening horror. The same as before, he could not will his body to move or to resist, and the only protest he was capable of was a long, low moan.

  Willfully misinterpreting, Father Paul leaned down close to Joshua and whispered in a voice ragged with exertion, “I knew you wanted this as much as I did.”

  A tear slipped from Joshua’s eye as his body reflexively retched, and he returned, gratefully, to painless unconsciousness.

  * * *

  When Joshua next awoke, he was no longer drunk, but his head throbbed and he was desperately thirsty. He flexed his fingers and moved his arms to test the responsiveness of his limbs. As his wakefulness increased, Joshua noted the room was in deep shadow save for a lamp blazing from Father Paul’s desk. At the thought of Father Paul, Joshua reddened with shame. He sat up on the couch on which he’d been sleeping, and gingerly removed a blanket with which Father Paul had apparently covered him.

  “What time is it?” Joshua croaked.

  Father Paul looked up from his paperwork and beamed at Joshua. “A little past eleven. I called your mother and told her you were helping me with a time-sensitive research project and would be home late.”

  Father Paul chuckled, “I’ll bet you have a doozy of a hangover—we’ll have to take it a little easier on the scotch next time.”


  Joshua stared down mutely at his pants. He couldn’t remember how they got back on.

  “Why don’t you run along—I know you have a busy weekend ahead. I’ll look forward to hearing about the date with your young lady. Let’s plan to meet at the same time next week to talk about our progress on the goals we set today.” With that, Father Paul returned his attention to the paperwork before him, and Joshua knew he had been dismissed.

  Joshua stood up and suppressed a wince. Wordlessly, he gathered his jacket and his backpack from where he had placed them when he entered the office what seemed a lifetime ago. He fumbled with the lock on the door—when had it been locked?—and then he closed it quietly behind him. He maintained composure until he reached the bike rack where his bicycle was, and then he just stood there in a stupor, leaning against the bike rack for support, a barrage of unanswerable questions assaulting his mind.

  Had he, as Father Paul suggested, wanted such a thing to happen? What signals had he given to make Father Paul think he did? If he didn’t want it, why did his body betray him when Father Paul touched him? Was he gay—a state of being that he and his friends found to be so disgusting and ridiculous that it was the punchline of their locker room jokes? If he wasn’t gay, why didn’t he fight back? Obviously, he couldn’t tell anyone, but what if his friends somehow found out? Why had Father Paul acted as if nothing had happened? Should Joshua do the same thing? Would the same thing happen when they met again next Friday?

  His parents didn’t have the first idea about how to apply to state schools, let alone to the elite universities on which Joshua had set his cap. Without Father Paul’s guidance, Joshua could not hope to leap the admissions hurdle, let alone putting together a feasible scholarship package. At the moment, he wanted to distance himself from Father Paul, but what would that mean for his dreams?