“I can do it,” I whispered, my voice deserting me. His face would be level with my crotch if he looked up instead of down at my shoes.
He might notice the situation in my pants.
“You know what, I don’t think you’d have much luck leaning over right now,” he said, and then his fingers closed around my ankle and he helped me wiggle my foot out of my shoe. He did look up then, but mercifully into my face, not at my lap. “I’ll drive you out to that place you wanted to go tomorrow. What was it called?”
I’d mentioned over dinner that I wanted to go to Catholic Pride, an organization that specifically undertook support for and outreach to LGBTQIA+ Catholics. I’d told the table at large that I was looking to implement one of their youth programs at Our Lady, but the truth was, I also wanted to speak to one of the priests I knew who worked there, see what he had to say about a few things.
I’d had questions of my own over the last few years to which Father Raphael and the theologians at my seminary had not always provided satisfactory answers. I hadn’t pushed further with them, because I was worried they would tell me that my doubts would prevent me from being an effective priest. But some of those questions seemed pretty important to reconcile before I took my Holy Orders.
Teo had both my shoes off by then and looked up at me, smiling, his hands on my knees, sliding a little higher to my thighs as he stood up. “You need some water, maybe?”
“I’m okay,” I croaked.
“Why don’t you get into bed and I’ll get you some water. Just in case.” He pulled back the covers for me and I crawled in fully dressed, my head spinning.
I passed out to sleep before he came back, but in the morning the first thing I saw was a glass of water on the nightstand. The thought of Teo coming back in to place it there while I was asleep made my insides give a pleasurable wriggle, before I found my head aching and my stomach uneasy.
But I ignored the queasy feeling in my belly and the throb in my head and dragged myself out of bed. It was time for morning prayers.
Chapter Thirteen
Aidan
Catholic Pride was a national organization but their HQ was in Boston. I’d been there once or twice before as a younger man, before I’d left for New York. In fact, the current Director, with whom I was meeting, had been the Chaplain and Religious Education teacher at my Catholic prep school—before he was forced to step down under a cloud when he’d started living openly with his male partner. Father Mike had always been my favorite teacher at school, and I was delighted that he obviously remembered me, too.
“Aidan,” he greeted me warmly in the reception area, and ignored my offered hand to pull me into a hug instead. “You know, I always thought I’d see you again? And here you are. How’s life treating you?”
It was so very different from Father Raphael’ paternalistic, decidedly cooler attitude, that I wasn’t sure how to respond. “Great?” I tried, and he laughed.
“You don’t sound too sure. And is this your partner?” He turned to Teo with a warm smile.
Teo, startled, took a short step back, as though he feared the hug-train was headed his way.
“Oh, no,” I said quickly. “This is Teo; he’s just a friend.”
Father Mike offered a hand to Teo, who took it slowly. “No such thing asjusta friend,” Father Mike said. “Friends are gifts from God. And will Teo be joining us as well?”
“No, Father,” Teo said at once. “I, uh. I’m just his ride.” He thumbed over his shoulder. “I’ll wait for you over here, huh?” he said to me, and then scurried away to a corner seat.
Father Mike watched him go, his eyes twinkling, and then he turned to me. “Come on, then, Aidan. Let’s go to my office.” He put his arm around my shoulders to turn and lead me down a hallway, then leaned in to murmur, “You’re sure he’s just a friend?”
“Yes!” I squeaked.
Father Mike’s office was different from his school office, but somehow familiar. Still the same smell of books, the sharpness of fresh ink, and, faintly, cinnamon. He sat me down opposite his desk and patted my shoulder. “Alright, I won’t pry.”
“How is David?” I asked, changing the subject. David had been Father Mike’s sticking point with the school. When the school demanded he choose between David and his job, Father Mike hadn’t hesitated.
“He’s very well. It was our wedding anniversary last week. But I don’t think you’re here to talk about David, are you?”
That was Father Mike all over. He was warm, but he was direct. “I’m due to be ordained on Sunday,” I told him, and he smiled.
“So I’ve heard.”
“I…still have some questions. Not doubts,” I added quickly. “Definitely no doubts. Just…questions. About how I should live my life within my calling.”
“I see.” For a moment, Father Mike looked sad. “We had these same conversations when you were a student at school. You still haven’t found your way?”
I felt a flush start in my neck, and I looked down at my hands. “I’ve heard all the arguments, Father. I just can’t settle them in my own mind.”
