A Beautiful Sin (20 page)

Friday afternoon, I dodged traffic on the expressway leading into town. Frustration with the sluggish flow of cars had me asking God for patience. The L would have been a better choice, but hindsight was always clearest. Locating my destination, it took me another twenty minutes to find parking. One more reason I should’ve taken the L. Once my car was situated, I had to jog to make it on time. The late summer day was hot and humid, as can sometimes be the case in early September in Chicago. With dismay, I noticed the sweat marks on my T-shirt. Too late to worry about it now. At least I wasn’t wearing my collar. It would’ve been worse. I opened the doors and the dark coolness was a welcome change to the outside heat. I walked with a solid purpose, as I knew I had no choice, opened the next door, and knelt. Words poured from my mouth. The dam had burst.

“Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. My last confession was six days ago.” I heard the priest say a few words and then I launched into my disclosure. “I have committed a grave transgression in the eyes of our Lord God, Jesus Christ. I have had lustful thoughts about a woman. And these thoughts have plagued me for days and nights, interfering with my duties and obligations.”

“My son,” the priest began, “it is not uncommon for a man to have thoughts such as yours.”

“Father, these thoughts are wrong, and to take them further, I kissed this woman.”

“Have you had sex with her outside of marriage?”

“No, Father. But you don’t understand. That would never be possible because I have received the Sacrament of Holy Orders. I am an ordained priest.”

Dead silence greeted me, so I assumed the poor man was reduced to speechlessness. I couldn’t imagine how I would feel.

“Father, I don’t know what to do. I have begged God for mercy, asked Jesus for help, pleaded with the Holy Spirit for faith to overcome this affliction, to no avail. I am at a loss.”

“You must say your penance, my son, and not commit these transgressions again. Am I to assume you have not broken your vow of celibacy?”

“Besides kissing her, I have not.”

“God sends us many obstacles and Satan sends us many temptations. Just remember that God is very forgiving.” He doled out my penance and said his prayers of reconciliation, absolving me of my sins, while I recited the Act of Contrition. I left the confessional not feeling the tiniest bit better.

Saturday, it was my rotation to celebrate Mass. I was fully prepared and my soul was anxious to be spiritually fed. As I entered the sacristy, the expected sense of dread filled me. It was the scent of incense that triggered my harshest memories. I’d tried desensitizing myself over the years, to no avail. My body knew. It knew what to expect when the odor was near me. Sweat trickled down my forehead and chest, and I shuddered. Kneeling at the prayer station, I continued to ask God for assistance, though I knew it was fruitless. I knew all the appeals to God would go unanswered. Wasn’t I the ultimate sinner? Hadn’t I been told that all those years ago?

Many deep breaths later I put my vestments on and one of the altar servers stuck her head in and told me it was time.

I joined the small group in the vestibule, and on cue, the music began playing as we marched up the aisle. Celebrating Mass was a balm to my broken and dirty soul. I begged God’s forgiveness that he deemed me worthy as a celebrant.

As I walked to the podium to begin my homily, I glanced out among the church members, smiling, as I normally did. Only this time my vision stumbled upon a blonde-haired beauty seated in the front row.
Haven.
She’d made good on her promise. I wasn’t sure if she’d been serious, but now I knew.

My message for today was based on the Gospel of the Lord, and looking at her, smiling at me, had my hands shaking and my tongue tripping all over my words, as though it were my first speech in college.

My face heated as though the air conditioning in the church was broken. I sped through my lesson, ending it, unsure if it made any sense whatsoever. And at the end, I could’ve sworn she winked at me. My relief must’ve been written all over my face as I turned away from the congregation to move on to the Eucharist and consecration portion of the Mass. When I finally announced, “Mass is ended. Go in peace,” I wanted to kick my heels in the air. I nearly ran down the aisle to the exterior of the church.

Mostly young people attended this Mass. A few elderly parishioners were there, and I greeted them a bit overly enthusiastically. There was a good chance they thought I was high on drugs. At least I didn’t reek of alcohol. The younger members floated out and chatted a bit, but I knew she was hanging back. She was waiting for a time to talk without being seen by anyone. When I was the last man standing, I went inside, and there she sat, in the last pew, closest to the sacristy. Great.

“Nice threads. You’re looking rather priestly.”

“That’s what I am. A priest, you know.” Nervously, I glanced around to ensure we were alone. “Haven. A little warning would’ve been nice.”

“I thought I did warn you when I saw you last.”

“Hmm. If I recall correctly, you said, ‘See you Sunday.’ Today is Saturday.”

She waved her hand. “Oh, that minor detail. I figured I’d come today. Getting here on a Sunday morning might be problematic.”

“Why’s that?”

She had an impish look in her eye. “I like to sleep late.”

I pressed my lips together, trying to look stern, but failing, I was sure. “In other words, God is less important than sleep?”

Her lips formed a perfect little O, which didn’t help me in my predicament of wanting to kiss them. “That doesn’t sound very Catholic, does it?”

“Not very,” I grimaced.

“So, Father, about your homily.”

My face went from ninety-eight point six to a thousand degrees in a half second flat. “What about it?”

“Am I embarrassing you?”

“I think flustering me would be more apt,” I explained. “You must know how things are for me.”

Her chin dropped to her chest as she folded her arms. Her mutters were so quiet, I had to strain to hear. “Yes, I do. And no matter how hard I try, I can’t stop thinking about you. I want to, Canaan, I do. But my brain is on overdrive. There’s one question that keeps repeating itself in my head.”

“What’s that?” And I knew when the question left my mouth I never should’ve asked it.

“Why is it that the only man I’ve ever been interested in has to be one I can’t ever have?” Then she stood and without a backward glance, left me sitting there alone.

For the first time ever, I felt lonely in the house of the Lord.

****

The day I’d been dreading arrived. And how appropriate that it came with thunderstorms and rain. My appointment with Greg Clark and his wife was in thirty minutes and my panic was mounting. I had to calm myself before this got out of hand. Employing deep breathing exercises was all I had time for and that did very little for me.

They arrived and I ushered them both into my office. Celia Clark was very pregnant, and I could tell by the lines around her mouth and bruise-like moons under her eyes that she had been under a great deal of stress. My heart ached for this couple.

“May I get you something to drink? Water, coffee?” I asked.

They both declined.

Greg endlessly rubbed his hands on his pants and then together. I kept thinking he was going to run out of here. But then he’d look at his wife, and I knew he wanted to get this over with.

“So, both of you came today to work on some marital issues. Celia, Greg came to me last week and shared with me something that happened to him while he was a teenager…something you aren’t aware of. But before we get started here, I’d like for us to pray together. So if we could bow our heads.” And I said a prayer for them as a couple that their marriage could endure what Greg was about to disclose. When I finished, I said, “Celia, some of this may be difficult to believe, to even understand. But you must listen with an open mind and an open heart.”

Her bewilderment grew as I spoke, but it wasn’t my place to tell her the truth. Only Greg could do that. I nodded to him and that was his cue.

Greg ran a hand across his face and began. “Celia, you wanted to know why I’ve been acting strange. It has to do with moving back here. You’ve probably tied the two together.” He glanced at me and I nodded. “You see, when I was a teenager, I was an altar boy here at the church.”

Celia said, “I remember that.”

I had to commend Greg because now his voice was calm. “What you don’t know is that Father O’Brien r-r-raped me. He molested me.”

“What? How can that be?” she exclaimed.

Greg’s voice shifted from calm to dead. “Like I said, I was an altar boy, and the first time it happened after Saturday Mass.”

“Wasn’t anyone around?” Celia wanted to know.

“No,” Greg said. “We were alone in the sacristy. I had changed my clothes and then collected all the items from the altar and took them back to the sacristy, like we usually did. When I got there he asked me if all the people were gone. They were and I told him that. Then he told me to lock the door. At first I was surprised because he’d never asked me to do that. But it was Father O’Brien, so I always did what he asked. Only I should’ve run away. As fast and as hard as my legs could’ve carried me. It was awful. The first time. I never knew something could be so…”

My vision spun as I was sucked back in time. Fear and pain swirled into one as his words mirrored my memories. Father O’Brien had given different reasons for his transgressions, but his doled out punishment remained the same.

“Wait,” Celia said. “Why didn’t you tell anyone?”

Many reasons, I thought to myself, feeling the crushing weight of guilt from her question.

“More than anything, shame,” Greg said.

“I don’t understand. How could you let him do that to you and not say anything?”

Greg lost all color from his face, and I had to intervene. The words clawed at my throat, but I managed to get them out.

“Celia, this isn’t a place of judgement. We aren’t here to question Greg about something he can’t change. We’re here to offer him support and a safe place so he can share this with you. He loves you and wanted you to understand why he’s been acting the way he has lately.”

Her eyes filled, so I handed her a tissue.

“And it happened here in this church?” she asked.

He nodded while she looked all around.

“You’re so very brave,” Celia whispered.

She had no idea.

Greg needed more help than I could possibly offer. So I suggested they seek out a family therapist while offering to continue to counsel them if they wanted additional support.

After they left, time came to a paralyzing halt. I found myself in my room as the memories assaulted me with a one-two punch. Celia’s questions had been some of my own. I’d thought I’d protected myself, making sure I wouldn’t be alone with Father O’Brien after the first time. Yet somehow he’d caught me unawares again. Positively frozen in fear, his touch sent me to another place where I retreated and pretended I was anywhere else in the world.

But it was his voice in my ear that would constantly bring me back as if he knew what I’d tried to do. His heated breath against my neck made me ill as he grunted words like sinner, temptation, and lust into my ear. Most of all, his reasons for doing the things to me had always been my fault. And weren’t they? I’d been a magnet for unwanted attention all my life. Only he’d been the only one to act on that desire.

I woke in the middle of the night gasping for air. The feeling of his hand on my back pressing my face forward into the table crawled over my skin. I quickly stripped my shirt and reached for the leather belt that was never far from my bed. Whipping it over my shoulder quickly masked the remembered feel of his skin against mine. The burn of the belt was better than the burn I’d experienced years ago.

My eyes seared with the disgrace from Celia’s questions to her husband, which were a reflection of my own. I’d kept my ordeal to myself and others had suffered. Maybe I had been ground zero, but there had been more. The real question was—how many more? Father O’Brien led me to believe I was the only one. But that wasn’t true at all.

Bile rose to my throat and sent me to my small bathroom to empty the contents of my stomach. What was worse, over time during his possession of me, I’d lost control of my own body. It would react even as my hate for the monster behind me consumed my soul.

I stood in the mirror and splashed water on my face as I pondered for the millionth time what my body’s reaction had meant? It was a question I never thought would be answered until she came into my life.

Haven.

My small bed dipped under my weight. As I breathed in her scent that still seared my sheets, I knew Father O’Brien had been right about me all along. I was a sinner because she was all I could ever want and never have.

Why was I so flirty with him? Why did I have to make him so uncomfortable during what should’ve been his peaceful time? But in all fairness, I did tell him. Well, maybe not. Like he said, he thought I was coming on Sunday, not tonight. I really needed to scrub these smutty thoughts of Father Canaan Sullivan from my mind. Why did he have to be a fucking priest? Or an
un
-fucking priest as it were? I laughed at my little joke.