“If you’re so desperate to know, come by the church and I’ll tell you, but only if you tell meallof yours.”
Illias smirked. “You have yourself a deal, I’ll see you tomorrow.”
A patron called for a refill.
“Tuesday,” Cantrell said quickly before Illias walked away. “Nobody confesses on Tuesday.”
“See you Tuesday then, Father.”
Chapter Nine
Cantrell
“Now no chastening for the present seemeth to be joyous, but grievous: nevertheless afterward it yieldeth the peaceable fruit of righteousness unto them which are exercised thereby.”
- Hebrews 12:11 KJV
There wasn't much for Cantrell to do to keep himself from routinely checking the clock as the day drew on. Miniscule tasks such as switching out the burnt-through candles and sweeping the narthex only kept him so busy. He found himself hand cleaning every window within the church just to keep from being idle. Alas, none of it was enough to keep his mind from wandering. Had Illias decided not to come? Perhaps after Cantrell left the bar, Illias found someone that could satiate his hunger the way Cantrell could only wish to. Illias could be asleepin another man’s bed, covered only by a thin sheet and nothing else. Confession the furthest thing from his mind.
Sighing, Cantrell sat in one of the pews to rest his tired bones. He wondered what it was like to live without thinking about the sin’s one had committed. Years ago, before the priesthood, when he was a still selfish and careless young man, Cantrell didn’t think twice about sin. Now, it consumed him whenever he was still for too long. Mind eager to remind him that he could not hide from the man he used to be.
He recalled what he had been told in seminary, how laziness was the Devil’s workshop. The concept led to Cantrell attempting to keep as busy as possible, only taking a break to eat, cleanse, and sleep. Ultimately, it guided him to take responsibility of Saint Anthony’s once he became a priest. The shelter was hard, time-consuming work, but in it, he found joy and purpose. For years, he was content with his life. His choices.
Then Illias Koller happened.
Illias was a breath of new life, awakening the flames of desires that Cantrell thought were too old to reignite. Illias reminded Cantrell of someone he knew, someone he hurt. An ex from over a decade ago. The one that got away because Cantrell was too young and foolish to recognize just how much he had hurt her in his undying need formore. When she left, everything in Cantrell’s life went with her. He struggled to pick up the pieces of his shattered heart, attempted to find solace at the bottom of a bottle.
After one too many lost nights, Cantrell began to attend the only recovery program in Dunwich, held by Saint Anthony’s. Slowly, he pieced himself back together. Became drawn to priesthood, as it provided the life he needed to never become the same man again. However, since his first interaction with Illias, old habits had crept back in.
The church doors groaned open, pulling Cantrell from a dangerous spiral. He rose and stepped into the aisle, turning in time to see Illias walk in. Lust coursed through Cantrell’s veins. A silver slip-chain collar, glinting in the faint sun trickling in through the windows, lay across Illias’ collarbones. Cantrell imagined hooking his finger in the ring at the end of the chain and pulling it until the links bit into Illias’ neck.
Illias looked Cantrell up and down, slight smirk arising. “I’ve come to confess my sins, Father.”
“Right, of course.” Cantrell’s heart thumped, knowing the confession was prompted from foolish envy and not a true desire to confess. He pushed his glasses higher up on his nose. He gestured to the booths at the back of the nave. “Lead the way.”
Cantrell kept his eyes trained on the back of Illias’ head as they walked over to the booths. Matthew 5:29 repeated in Cantrell’s head.If your right eye causes you to stumble. Illias paused in the doorway of the confession and looked at Cantrell. Their eyes locked.Gouge it out and throw it away. Illias leaned against the door as he toyed with the end of his necklace. The chain pressed against the delicate skin of his neck.It is better for you to lose one part of your body—
“Don’t forget to share your sins too, Father.” Illias winked and stepped into the booth.
—than for your whole body to be thrown into hell.
The color drained from Cantrell’s face at the reminder of what he said, the promise he made to know if others touched Illias the same way Cantrell craved to. He crossed his body and stepped into the booth. “In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit.”
“Forgive me Father, for I have sinned. It has been one week since my last confession.”
“I admire your dedication to salvation, my child,” Cantrell praised all too causally.
“I’m glad it pleases you, Father.” Illias’ voice—tempting and salacious—belonged in the depths of Cantrell’s imagination. “I confess to the following sins—well, sin, I suppose. As you I’m sure you’re well aware by now, I’m a lustful man.
“Only because of a certain priest. God, I want him so badly, Father. It's driven me to seek attention from other men in hopes that I can get some release, but all I can think about is him,” Illias said, a wishful undertone to his words. “I wish it was him pushing me face first into the back of a car as he shoved my jeans down far enough to enter me, rough and hard, exactly the way I like it.” Illias paused and Cantrell choked back a groan as he imagined what could have been if he hadn’t fled the first night they met. “Shall I keep going?”
Cantrell touched his rosary. A leash of his own making with enough slack to let him inch closer to the point of no return but keeping him from straying too far. “Continue.”
“I will, but, after you, Father.” Smugness coated his words. “Confess to me your sins.”
Lowering his hand back to his lap, Cantrell relaced his fingers. His sin sat heavy on his tongue. Sharp and acidic. “Greed,” he admitted. “As a young man, I had an insatiable hunger for control and sex.”
The words tumbled freely once the dam broke, not caring what Illias may think. If it would scare him. A desperate part of Cantrell hoped his admission would, then he could repent for his own lust and find his path again.
