That night, I googled chat groups of people who were sperm donors. As Ethan had said, the interaction between the sperm donor and recipient went from the experience being strictly a monetary transaction to the donor being directly engaged in the process, like Ethan. After narrowing my research to sperm donors who were directly involved with the child, I got the sense that the donor was like a part-time dad. Even in those instances, they were not liable for anything more than what they chose to give in time and love. I closed my laptop with more questions than I began with. Since we were in the infantile stage of our budding relationship, I wasn’t going to talk to Ethan about the baby coming until we were further along.
I might not be sure about the baby but when I went to bed, I was thinking about Ethan. With my hand wrapped around my cock while envisioning Ethan hovering over me, I wanted more of him. All I needed was word from the bishop that my laicization was moving ahead and then I’d make plans to meet Ethan in person. The problem was, I didn’t feel remorseful about masturbating using Ethan as my inspiration. I knew that I was breaking my vow of celibacy but I couldn’t resist the pull Ethan had on me. As it was, I wouldn’t see Ethan for another week.
Six days later, I was wrong about not seeing Ethan. As I recited the opening prayers of Mass I spied Ethan in the last rowof pews. I met his gaze and held it for as long as I could without drawing attention. I got through the first part of Mass by rote, then it was time for communion. I saw Ethan walk up the aisle toward the altar rail and almost tripped over my feet, petrified by my reaction. How was I going to hold it together with this beautiful man on his knees in front of me?
And then he was there with his face raised toward me, tongue out, and I lost all words. My legs buckled and I heard a wisp of a whisper as Ethan murmured, “Father.” I slowly came back into myself.
Presenting the consecrated bread at the tip of Ethan’s tongue, my hand trembled when he said, “The body of Christ.” Locking gazes with Ethan, I hesitated before turning back to the altar. I knew in that moment I had to confess my sins.
Following the intimate moment at the altar, I didn’t see Ethan again. I guessed that he was feeling equally guilty for having put me in the position he did. I feared Ethan had reverted to self-flagellating again. On the Friday evening of the fourth week, I sent him a text.
Jude: Please let me see you
I didn’t hear back until the next day.
Ethan: Where?
Jude: Where do you live?
Ethan: 200 W. Ocean, Long Beach
Jude: When?
Jude: Please Ethan, don’t turn me away
Ethan: Tomorrow, 8 PM Apt L104
When Ethan opened the door, I rushed in and crashed my mouth to his. “I’ve missed you so much.” Ethan stumbled back and then stiffened, his lips shut tightly until I held his face with both hands and let the breaths of my words float next to Ethan’s earlobe. “No talking. Not now. Just let me taste you.”
Ethan was having none of it. Grabbing my wrists, he pushed me away, but I wouldn’t release his grip. “What the fuck are you doing?” he cried. “I haven’t been with a man in seven years.”
I dropped my hands to my sides and stepped backward. “God, what did I do? I’m sorry, Ethan.”
“Come in,” Ethan said and closed the door behind us.
When we were in the living room, I took notice of the floor-to-ceiling windows and view of the ocean. “This is nice,” I said, trying to ease the tension in the air between us.
Ethan didn’t respond to my comment and the fine lines bracketing his eyes deepened. “I didn’t think touching you for the first time would be so dramatic.” He’d meant his words to lighten the mood. Instead, as I cringed and seemed to cave in on myself, Ethan realized they had the opposite effect.
“I should go,” I said, shifting uncomfortably from one foot to the other. “I’ve made a mess of this.”
“No,” Ethan said. Sitting on the sofa, he patted the cushion next to him. Once I was seated, he urged, “Tell me what’s really going on.”
I couldn’t push the words out and sat motionless for the longest time until finally, when I saw concern etch deeper on Ethan’s expression, I said, “I’ve been suspended and I’m thinking of leaving.”
“When?” Ethan asked, a mix of shock and disappointment morphing into anger. Indicating the front door, he hissed, “So, what happened there… you were going to have sex with me andthentell me you were leaving? Did you think that was a graceful way of letting me down, Father?” The honorific shot out spitefully. “Or were you going to use me… use my body just for fun?” Ethan looked out the window into the distance. “Get out,” he ordered, his voice strained as he never wavered from where his eyes were trained.
I jumped in my seat when Ethan ordered me to leave a second time. “Please, Ethan, let me explain.”
Ethan spun around. “Answer one question.”
“Anything,” I said, trying to sound hopeful.
The man’s eyes were stormy, as he seemed to have come up with the answer himself. “You weren’t going to tell me.”
My light skin went white. “Y-Yes… no, not right away b-but please, let me…”
“Let you what, Jude?” Ethan bellowed. “Explain what?” Ethan’s face was red with anger. Walking to the front door, he yanked it open with enough room to give me a gaping berth to pass through without brushing into him inadvertently.
