“Yes, I used to play both here and in Italy during the summers. I was a striker.”
I let out a soft chuckle and teased. “Figures, you’d have one of the star positions.”
Ethan pushed. “What happened with you and Finn?”
“We discovered we were both gay, junior year in high school. We were both shy and began slowly exploring each other’sbodies, experimenting as we became more confident. Finn more than me. We were together all through senior year and did everything short of anal sex. When he wanted to… what was the term back then? Go all the way. I refused. I’d been pushing myself to do everything we had, and I liked it, a lot. But in the back of my brain, I kept hearing the priests say gay sex was immoral. Eventually, he gave me an ultimatum.”
I stopped talking and Ethan gave me a few minutes before he coaxed, “What did you say?”
“I told him I couldn’t. We’d both been in the closet but as soon as we split, he came out and found another boyfriend. I went to confession and told the priest that I was gay. And…” I wiped my eyes, inserted two fingers inside the clerical collar, and tugged at it, needing air.
Ethan’s reaction to me pulling my collar made him furrow his brow. And I had to guess it wasn’t the first time. I just never realized how often I did it.
“And what?” Ethan said very gently, leaning forward.
I scoffed, recalling the priest’s solution. “He reminded me homosexuality was a sin and I should keep following my religious path.”
Ethan scrunched his face. “I don’t follow.”
“When I became an altar boy, I was told this was the start of a path to serving God, my calling. The priest gave me a lengthy penance, which basically had me writing down that I wasn’t gay, and to rid myself of all sexual thoughts. Obviously, I never told the priest that I’d sucked my boyfriend’s dick behind the bleachers at school.”
Ethan tentatively asked, “What about your parents?”
I let out a bitter, self-deprecating laugh. “I never told them. They’re strict Irish Catholics who never asked me what I wanted to do in life. They assumed that I’d become a priest. And that was exactly what I did.”
“And now?”
I stared at Ethan, his beautiful mossy green eyes having lost their sparkle. “I hope I haven’t scared you away. Will you come back tomorrow?”
“Yes,” Ethan said, his tone sounding like a promise.
When Ethan left the confessional and I heard the thud of the heavy door close upon his exit, I picked up my prayer book, rose, and left. The walls of the cubicle had begun to close in on me near the end of my conversation with Ethan.
I needed to figure out what I was doing with Ethan. I hadn’t even considered Ethan could get hurt, and that was on me. I just never realized that Ethan liked me as a man in that way. A gay man whom Ethan admitted to fantasizing about. I didn’t have enough sexual experience to envision more than the basics—kissing, hand jobs, and blow jobs. Even so, I could easily visualize Ethan across from me in the confessional describing one of his erotic daydreams. The words would defile the sacredness of the space, a fact that should bother me more than it did.
Although I still had an active libido, I never watched porn because I was afraid of having my laptop hacked. I masturbated and knew for a fact that I wasn’t the only priest who didn’t abstain. During my time at the seminary, I relieved myself from morning wood but that was it. I had to. Otherwise, I’d be at mass with a boner. Those who were gay—and a few who were straight—spoke in hushed whispers about their sexual practices in the solitary of their room.
As for Ethan, I was drawn to him. Not only because I was curious what it would be like to be with another man as an adult. I liked being with him. He was responsible for making me smile, even laugh. I’d almost forgotten how.
I locked up the church and was on my way to the rectory when my phone rang. Father Matthew’s name popped up on thedisplay screen. Digging in deep mentally, I dropped down to the highest stair on the stoop. “Hello, Father.”
“Hello, Jude. I’m following up on your visit with Bishop Sanchez.”
“Did he tell you to check up?” I asked, trying to keep my tone free of annoyance. The effort wasn’t working.
“It’s my job as your religious mentor, Father,” he retorted testily.
“I’m fine, Father Matthew. The bishop heard my confession, gave me some things to ponder, and said he’d be in touch in a couple of weeks. We had a lovely visit.”
“He advised you that he’s leaning toward denying your petition to laicization. How do you feel about that?”
I hated that the bishop shared that nugget of information, even though the guidelines were that all superiors had to be kept updated during the process. “I’ll honor his decision whatever it is.” I lied because I wasn’t sure that I’d stay in the Church if he denied me. “That was one of the things Bishop Sanchez wanted me to think through.”
I could literally envision his obnoxious grin when he said, “I’m glad you’re taking the bishop’s advice seriously. Make an appointment with my secretary and we’ll have a discussion on what I think you need to be prioritizing. Also, perhaps you’ll start a daily journal whenever a negative thought comes to you. Anything else you need, Father?”
“No, Father Matthew,” I managed to say, my voice calm and then forced. “Thank you for the call.”
“Oh, one more thing,” Father Matthew began. “Your mother was in touch yesterday.”
