No one else at the gym even knew that I was a priest. Hawk did because of my membership application. No one cared. All we talked about while there was boxing, the televised fights coming up, and bragging rights when one of us beat Hawk or the other two trainers.
“Hey, Father,” Hawk called when I came through the doors, using my title when the place was empty.
When I approached his office, he asked, “Not sparring today?”
I wore jeans and a T-shirt and didn’t have my gym bag with me. “Actually, I need to talk to you and figured we could use our regular time.”
“All right,” he said. “Close the door and sit down.”
“Thanks, Hawk.”
Before I began, he asked, “Hopefully, you’re not leaving.”
I shook my head. “No, nothing like that.” I took a healthy breath and said, “What I’m going to tell you is personal.” He started to say something, but I waved my hand. “Believe me, Hawk I trust you to keep my confidence, but I just had to reaffirm. You’ll understand when I explain.”
In a projected silence because I was bolstering my nerve, he said, “You’re really concerning me. How can I help get you talking.”
“I’ve left the Church. I’m not a priest any longer. Well, technically I am but not in my mind. Whew.” I felt like I’d reclaimed another piece of my freedom.
Hawk’s blue eyes opened wide. “Wow, that’s a lot. Do you mind filling in the hundred questions I have?”
“Sure,” I said and relayed a brief version regarding the petition and the open-ended problems with that. I also emphasized that I wanted to keep a low profile. “Although, they have no recourse as far as retrieving my physically, one of the priests, Father Matthew, has been aggressively antagonizing me and involving my parents, who are equally enraged with me.”
“Why?” Hawk asked. “You’ve thought about this for years. As for your parents, they should be supporting your decision. You’re what, thirty-five years old.”
“You’d think so. Instead they’ve made life miserable despite my not leaving before thispartlybecause of their disappointment,” I said, emphasizing the word partly.
“Jude, you’re trying very hard not to say something. You’ve already stunned me so whatever you say, I’m sure that I can’t be more surprised.”
I cringed. “Oh, I wouldn’t be too sure. The greater part of why I’m leaving now is because of someone we both know. A talented boxer, according to you, who has the greenest eyes ever and has stolen my heart.”
Hawk raised his arms in the air and clapped one time while exclaiming, “No fucking shit! Ethan Fuller. How the hell did that happen?”
I couldn’t help but laugh. “When he joined here, he hated having to look for parking spaces nearby so he began parking by the church.”
Hawk sat forward in his chair. “Fuck, no wonder the day I talked to him—” He changed direction with his words. “I walked with him to his truck one day.”
Now it was my turn to intercept. “Hawk, he told me to tell you that he found the magic cure to not flogging himself and I’m supposed to point to me. He also apologizes for being MIAbut he was helping someone”—I indicated myself again—“go through some intense shit.”
“I’ll be damned. I’m so goddamn thrilled for him. For you both, but he really needed a special person in his life. So, tell me how it started.”
“One day he arrived early and because he had time to waste before coming here, he decided to peek inside the church. He hadn’t been in one for twenty-whatever years. I happened to be there and our gazes connected. We didn’t speak. He left and the next evening he came in during confession so he could introduce himself. So, basically, we met in the confessional.”
Hawk snorted. “I gotta tell my wife. She reads romance novels all the damn time. Go on, you’ve got my full attention. But before you do, tell your man that I’m fucking proud of him and I can’t wait until he’s in again.”
“I will. Anyway, I’d already submitted my petition and was waiting on a decision from the bishop whether he would forward it to the Pope. So, the only place we could meet without the risk of me getting caught was in the confessional. Because we were confined to meeting in the church and couldn’t even hold hands, we talked. Over the weeks we got to know each other, but then our feelings got involved and during a confession with the bishop, I admitted to having feelings for a man and he forbid me to see or talk to Ethan again. He suspended me and instead of moving forward with my petition to leave, he went in the opposite direction and for penance instructed me to isolate and pray for six months.” I shrugged and looked at Hawk. “I couldn’t give up talking to Ethan for six months, knowing that the bishop was going to deny my petition.”
“When did you actually run away?” Hawk asked softly.
“That night. I left the bishop’s house, went back to the rectory, and wrote three letters for the bishop, Father Matthew,who was my mentor, and my parents. It gave me time before I had to call them.”
“Where are they?”
“Outside of Philadelphia, where I’m from,” I said. “I left that night and booked a room for a week at the La Quinta by the Long Beach Airport. I told Ethan and wound up checking out of the hotel the next day, and for now I’m staying with Ethan. He’s been with me every step of the way. Last Thursday instead of coming here to spar with you, he sat in his truck during my appointment with the bishop and waited for me.”
“What’s next for you? All you’ve ever known is being a priest, right?”
“I’m not sure what I’m qualified for,” I said, holding my hands up in question.
