“For I know the thoughts that I think toward you, saith the LORD, thoughts of peace, and not of evil, to give you an expected end.”
- Jeremiah 29:11 KJV
As usual, Nirvana’s was packed on Saturday night. Cantrell parked in one of the few empty spots where the neon lights didn’t reach. Hiding his car within the shadows of night. He tried to quell his nerves as he walked towards the bar. There was nothing wrong with him visiting the bar. He wasn’t drinking and he wasn’t doing anything inappropriate.Except I am. He bit the tip of his tongue and walked in. In an instant, he was consumed by Nirvana’s atmosphere. Pool balls cracked against each other. Low country rock played from the old, busted speakers near the bar. Voices layered on top of each other. The smell of frenchfries, house-made hot sauce, and cheap beer wafted through the air.
Cantrell worked his way through the crowd to the counter, searching for an empty seat. At the far end of the bar, beneath a broken light, was an empty chair. He settled himself on the stool and waited for either Jasmine or Illias to notice. While he waited, he turned his attention to the very animated conversation happening between the bartenders. From where he sat, he couldn’t make out the conversation but he could tell it was playful banter. Both bartenders talked with their hands, drawing the attention of everyone at the bar.
Illias could pull the attention of anyone he wanted without the dramatics though. He was magnetic. A true people-person. Not because he smiled prettily at anybody for a tip, but because he showed a level of dedication to each and every person he spoke to. Crafted the way he interacted with each person according to them. Perhaps that’s why Cantrell was unable to escape Illias’ pull.
Shame twisted through Cantrell’s chest like overgrown weeds, entangling in his ribs and making it difficult to focus on anything but Illias and their relationship. Whatever that was, if it could even be considered one. Cantrell looked down at his hands, pretending to pick at his nails. He was an old man that Illias entertained, nothing more. Illias was capable of finding someone that could give him what he wanted, what hedeserved. Cantrell could only offer words and chaste touch that toed the line of breaking his vows.Vows, he thought with a hint of cynical humor,how can I even think of vows when I think of him in the same breath?Surely what they had already done broke his vow of celibacy. Pushed him further from God’s graces.
“Here’s your usual, Father.”
Cantrell glanced over his glasses to see Illias standing with his hands on his hips. His crop top barely concealed his torso,cutting off well above his navel. Cantrell longed to follow that dark trail of hair below the waistband of Illias’ tattered jeans.
“Thank you,” Cantrell said in a tight voice, face warming.
He grabbed the cup in front of him, pulling it closer. Illias leaned down, uncrossing his arms, and started to wipe down the counter next to Cantrell. “I’m surprised to see you so soon, Father. But I’m even more surprised you haven’t texted me. My number must be burning a hole in your pocket.”
A customer shouted Illias’ name, pulling him away from Cantrell before he could respond. He released and gripped his cup a few times, head reeling from their short exchange. Such a simple tease would have never made him struggle to regain the upper hand in his prime, but he was out of practice from years of abstinence.
He fished the crumbled napkin from his pocket and unfolded it. Illias’ phone number and address scribbled in red pen stared at Cantrell. It was ridiculous to accept it. Even more ridiculous to rationalize why it was reasonable for him to keep it.Not tonight.He shoved it back into his pocket.
“Father Cantrell!” Jasmine hopped up on the counter next to him. “I had no idea you had any tattoos and I’ve been working here forever. You’ve always worn long sleeves year-round, what’s got you breaking out the gun show?”
“When you get as old as I am, the heat starts to become harder to ignore,” he answered, his gaze flashing to Illias for a split second.
She smirked and wagged her finger at him. “Tsk tsk, Father, lying is a sin. There’s someone you’re trying to impress.”
Cantrell dismissed the idea, desperate to change the topic to something else. Jasmine wouldn’t drop it though, teasing him about how there must be someone because why else would he come so frequently when previously he barely showed up. Heprayed for the strength to endure, trying everything in his power to keep from looking at Illias too frequently or at all.
From where he sat, he could see Illias hanging by the bar where Maverick sat. Maverick’s eyes flickered over to Cantrell then back at Illias, and Cantrell, over the music and numerous voices, heard Maverick ask, “Why do you look like you want to rip Jazz’s head off?”
Illias straightened his back. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Maverick shook his head then went back to the paperwork in front of him. Cantrell caught the fire in Illias’ eye when he looked at Jasmine. A lightbulb went off in Cantrell’s head. “I’m sorry, I just remembered I have to be at Saint Anthony’s early tomorrow. We’ll continue this conversation another time, yes?”
Jasmine pouted and got off the counter. “I understand, you’re a busy man, Father. Have a goodnight.”
He fished out a ten and gave it to her. “Keep the change. Have a blessed night.”
Cantrell left the bar without saying anything to Illias. As he walked across the parking lot, he grabbed his phone.
Cantrell
Jealousy isn’t a good color on you. I think you’re due for a confession.
Cantrell
Perhaps a private one at your place? Tuesday at 8PM?
Sliding into his car, Cantrell groaned and dropped his head onto the stirring wheel. Just like before, he was going beyond what he should. Against his vows and his devotion to the church.What am I thinking? This is beyond reckless.His phone buzzed and he glanced at the bright screen.
HIM
Sounds perfect. See you then.
Cantrell looked at the Mother Mary air freshener that hung from his review mirror.Mother, pray that I do not burn this time.
