I huffed. “I get all that, Alex. I do. But the problem is that you make it seem so easy. I aspired to be like you when I was ordained. But truthfully, fairly early on, I realized I’d followed other people’s dreams. After a short eight years, I’m suffocating. I feel the collar choking me. Did you ever falter?”
The bishop fell back against the chairback and laughed. “Too many times to count, Jude.” And then he immediately sobered. “Not as hard as you’ve fallen. I’ve read and reread all the documentation you sent as part of the petition for laicization because something wasn’t adding up. Both superiors in previous parishes had nothing but accolades. Your mentor, Father Matthew, advises that you dig your heels in and stay the course. Father Perkins from St. Mary Magdalene parish spoke very highly of you as a neighboring pastor.” The bishop raised his hands, palms facing up. “I’m having a problem balancing the praise versus your personal letter, in which you talk about having lost all inner sense for your calling. Is that the suffocation you’re experiencing?”
“Yes. I have no purpose… no sense of who I am. And then, a man came tothischurch and intomyconfessional after not being in a church for twenty-five years. Isn’t that like a miracle? As if God knew that I needed a project to make me feel useful again.”
The bishop and I were quiet for a long while with my last comment hanging in the air.
Then he steepled his fingers and said, “You mentioned earlier that you don’t follow baseball. Part of the reason I like to watch are the different personalities that come out, mostly when they’re up at bat. There are some players who are happy with the singles. They get on base and that’s good enough for them. They’ve made a small contribution toward winning the game. Then there are the ones who are risk-takers because they want a bigger bite. They usually get on second or sometimes third. And then there are those hard hitters who are solid in their strategy and envision nothing less than a home run. Because that’s all that matters to them. Their passion for the game eclipses all others. They know that a home run could be the deciding one to win. Their goals are no different than yours, Jude.”
“In what way?”
“You don’t want to have any misgivings about your life’s journey. You just don’t want small wins. You want the big, game-winning ones. But that way of life means drastic highs and lows because you’re not going to get the home run every time. Sometimes, you’re going to strike out. But the risks are what make the game exciting.”
I wasn’t sure about anything the bishop was saying. “Bishop, I presume you didn’t make up your mind yet about forwarding my appeal to the Vatican.”
“No, I haven’t, Jude. And talking to you tonight makes me less in favor, as much as you might not want to hear that.”
I sighed but refrained from commenting.
“Your letter states perfectly clear that you want out. However, your instinct is to help a troubled man that drifts into your confessional.” The bishop sat forward and laid his hand on mine, which were folded. “I’m not dismissing your application. I also won’t pass it along unless I’m certain that you’re one hundred percent sure. The process of laicization is final. Do you understand where I’m at?”
“Yes,” I said, bowing my head, knowing I hadn’t been truthful to the bishop about the man—Ethan. So, of course, not having the full story, he’d come to a different conclusion. I was sincere about wanting to help Ethan heal emotionally. But I was also interested in him as a man. The two could be mutually inclusive. Couldn’t they?
The bishop braced himself using the arms of the chair and hoisted himself up. “Bishop, one last question, please. Did Father Matthew mention to you that he called my parents? I hadn’t spoken to them yet about… anything.”
The bishop’s mouth grew tight. “He did when I reached out to him about your case. Be assured that I made known my disapproval of him contacting them without your prior consent or knowledge. A matter of laicization is profound and deeply personal, despite the number of outsiders who are engaged in the process. Let me know if he oversteps his bounds again.” He tapped his mouth with his finger as if maybe recollecting his conversation with Father Matthew. “Although, from what Matthew related, your mother might try to involve him.”
“I’m sure of it, now that she knows,” I said. “She’s furious with me.”
The bishop sighed. “Ah, love and patience for one’s parents can unfortunately only go so far sometimes. Until we meet again, meditate on what we talked about and then follow your instincts,” he said, ending our meeting with an encouraging smile.
I walked him to the front door, pulled it open, and said, “Thank you, Bishop.”
“I’ll be in touch in a few weeks,” he said, and then went down the stairs, holding the handrail. At the same time, his driver got out of the car, jogged around to the rear passenger side, and waited for the bishop to be settled before he closed it. I stayed unmoving in the doorway until the black Buick sedan pulledaway, relieved that the visit was over. Although, hearing that the bishop had put Father Matthew on notice had been worth the visit in itself.
Pivoting, I cleared the few things from the coffee table. In the kitchen, I took a swallow of the cold coffee and grinned. The whiskey emulsified with caffeine, making the alcohol taste stronger. I hummed as I emptied the cup.
In my bedroom, I removed the collar and breathed easy. As much as some of what the bishop said was worth pondering, there was no denying the freedom that let loose when I divested myself of my clerical garments. The bishop had me pegged for a hard hitter and that’s where I disagreed. How could I know what kind of batter I was if I’d never been to the plate? Although, I sniggered, one thing was certain. I knew what team I batted for—a fact that I’d conveniently left out of the petition for laicization. For a moment, I wondered if I should’ve been transparent with the bishop. What would he have said if I came out to him?
My thoughts drifted to Ethan. Was he gay? The way he looked at me when our eyes met the
first time, I’d wager he had to be somewhat attracted to men, even if he wasn’t full-on gay. God, my cock was taking interest in the train of images crossing my mind until I remembered that my overnight guest would be showing up soon. A visiting priest from Seattle was in town to baptize a newly born niece. He’d contacted me to ask if he’d be able to stay in the rectory. To show his gratitude, he’d offered to hear confessions in the morning and then say the nine o’clock Mass on Sunday, when they’d have the baptism.
I was looking forward to having the company. Plus, I knew the priest’s brother and sister-in-law, who came to church on a regular basis. The baby girl was their fifth child. Envisioning the family when they walked into church, everyone trailing after their dad with the mom monitoring the rear, always made melaugh softly. From the youngest at three or so to the oldest pre-teen, all had to attend. Not much different than when I was a child. My time being a pastor in three different parishes made one thing clear: Children were out of the question when I settled down with the man of my dreams.
Ethan, are you the man of my dreams? I mused as a text sounded. I picked up my phone and read.
Ethan: I wanted to thank you again for cleaning the mess I made.
Jude: No more apologizing. You were ill. End of story
Jude: Heads up, a visiting priest is here for the weekend. He’ll be taking over my pastoral duties
Ethan: Confessions?
Jude: Yes. But text me if you need anything
Ethan: Nah, I’m good. See you next Friday, Father
