Andrew raised his perfectly arched eyebrow. He was a handsome Black man, who was always meticulously groomed. “Go on.”
“That’s the night I told you about, when Hawk discovered the marks on my back. What I didn’t include was when Hawk left to walk back to the gym, I screamed inside the truck out of frustration. I hadn’t noticed that Jude had been on the stoop of the rectory watching my meltdown. But that wasn’t the end.”
Andrew tipped his head at me to continue, his expression neutral.
“I saw him a third time when I’d gone to the bookshop across from The Ring and collected a manual I’d ordered for Hawk. I hadn’t noticed Jude right away because he was dressed in a hoodie and sweatpants. But after I crossed the road, I felt I was being watched. Sure enough, I turned and he pushed back the hood, as if he’d wanted to make sure that I knew it was him.”
“Three times in one day seems almost prophetic,” Andrew said. “If you believe in destiny.”
“Exactly,” I said. “I felt compelled to see him again but since he was a priest…” I held up my hands. “I wasn’t sure until I remembered about having gone to confession when I was a kid. So, that’s what I did.”
“You went to confession to speak to the priest,” he said haltingly, as if he wasn’t sure he understood me.
I nodded in confirmation.
“And then what?”
“We’ve been meeting in the confessional. Well, except for the one time I saw him crying on the rectory stoop and I went up and stayed with him for a few minutes.”
Andrew made some notes and after seemingly deliberating his next question, he finally asked, “If you don’t mind telling me, have you ever actually confessed?”
“I don’t mind, but are you familiar with confessions in the Catholic church?”
“No,” Andrew said, shaking his head.
“Anything you say to a priest within the confines of the confessional is inviolate. Even if I told Jude that I murdered someone. Or that I was suicidal. He’s not allowed to share the information. Not even to the authorities.” Then in a lowered voice, I said, “I confessed to raping Luca.”
“That was a very big step. But I’m wondering, Ethan, if telling Jude is more about trusting him than the boundaries set by the Church. Is that possible?”
“Yes, it is. I like him, Andrew. The first man since even before Napa that I think about during the day and always at night. But he’s a priest. And then he told me he was gay and I freaked. I left and told him that I probably wouldn’t be back. Then Gabby hit me with her stuff and that was it. I needed to get advice.”
Andrew set his notebook aside and uncrossed his legs. After taking water from a bottle on the side table next to his chair, he said, “We have a lot to unpack. For starters, does speaking to Jude make you less inclined to hurt yourself?”
“I thought it did, but the seven-year mark landed on a Wednesday, and confessions are Friday and Saturday. And don’t ask why I didn’t reach out to you. I just chose to stripe my ass instead.”
“Where Hawk couldn’t see it?” Andrew asked, his expression non-judgmental but I knew what he was thinking.
“You can say it, Andrew. I was dishonest to him as well as breaking my promise. But fuck, it’s hard sometimes.”
“I’m not saying it isn’t, Ethan. May I ask, did Jude ever share his contact information? Has he ever suggested you contact him out of church hours?”
“Yes, he gave me his business card. But he’s a priest.” That seemed to answer Andrew’s question. “But now to know that he’s gay, I already masturbate fantasizing about him. He’s gorgeous. Cover model gorgeous. Plus, he’s kind and nice.”
“He’s gay and yet, he has no problem inviting you to see him. Or talk to him. I can accept seeing him inside the church, especially the confessional. It’s a safe place for him. But I can’t help questioning his motives.”
“In what way?”
“If I’m correct, Catholic priests take the vow of celibacy. I can’t say whether having sexual thoughts count as a sin. My guess is thoughts are fine as long as you don’t act on them, which I’d assume includes masturbation. But he seems to be going beyond ecclesiastical propriety. Unless, he has another agenda. Do you have any idea how long he’s been a priest?”
“Eight years,” I said, trying to understand where Andrew was going with his comments.
“Long enough to know if he’s made the right choice. Being celibate for a lifetime takes an inordinate amount of willpower. But even aside from sex, there’s the simple things a person gets out of a relationship. Companionship, sharing the mundane tasks in daily life… having someone to come home to after work, to cuddle with while watching TV.” Andrew started to speak again, then closed his mouth before sitting forward. “Maybe… and I could be way off base, Ethan. What if Jude speculated you were gay? Maybe he wants to discover what he’s missing out on. How old is he? Late twenties or early thirties?”
“Thirty-four,” I said, giving a little nod in agreement. “I thought I was making up things in my head. But sometimes when he looks at me, if he were single, I’d think he was hitting on me. If what you’re saying is right, then he might’ve been.” I recalled again when Jude pushed back his hood. “What’s your advice, Andrew?”
“I’ll be honest, I’ve never had a situation like this before. But listening to my intuition, which I can usually depend on, I wouldn’t stop seeing him.”
I let out a whoosh of air, not realizing I’d been holding my breath. “You wouldn’t?”
