Stepping Out in Faith - 4. Chapter 4a

A wall of sound and sweat hit Andy as he stepped inside of Ritz one week later. He recoiled at the onslaught and tried to remember if he had had that reaction the first time he went there.

The place was so crowded it was nearly impossible to move; his bones shook from the music blaring from giant speakers, and every breath he took made him think of dirty laundry. Had he actually thought this place was appetizing last time?

Andy scanned the room looking for that head of curly black hair in a sea of bodies. He hadn’t really thought this plan through, he realized. It was next to impossible to find someone in the place. He had spent the entire week since the disastrous, baseball-game incident trying to decide if he should come.

It was clear that Marcus was angry, and for some reason that knowledge weighed heavily on Andy’s heart. He needed to explain, needed Marcus to understand: the urge was so strong that Andy hadn’t been able to ignore it. But now that he was there, he wasn’t so sure this was a good idea.

“Hey there, sweetie. Can I get you something?” A waif of a boy with shocking-pink hair, wearing nothing but a pair of sparkly short shorts, smiled at Andy while holding a waiter’s tray.

“Um... No, I’m fine. Thank you.”

“Well, let me know if you’d like anything... anything at all.” The look in the boy’s eyes suggested he wasn’t just referring to some beverage. And the way his body brushed against Andy’s as he walked past made the message abundantly clear.

Andy coughed awkwardly and stepped away. This was a very bad idea. What exactly did he think he could accomplish? And what made him think Marcus even cared for an explanation? Maybe he should just leave; Marcus would be none the wiser.

But he didn’t leave; instead, he squeezed his way through a crowd of bodies, telling himself to make at least one circuit of the room before bailing. Sweaty skin rubbed up against him, pressed into him. The smell of men filled his nostrils. Sweat formed on his brow, drenched his hair and rolled down his back. He brushed the wet strands off his forehead and froze in mid-motion as he caught sight of Marcus.

Marcus stood with another man—close to the other man. They whispered in each other’s ears and laughed out loud. They looked like mimes, with the music drowning out the sound of their voices. They looked like beautiful mimes, dressed in tight jeans and t-shirts, hair perfectly coiffed.

Marcus looked gorgeous. The thought rang so loud and clear in Andy’s head that he looked around to see if someone had whispered it to him. He hadn’t expected that reaction; frankly, Andy wasn’t sure what he expected, but it certainly wasn’t the shock of attraction that ran through his core just from a distant sighting of Marcus. This just turned from a very bad idea into a disastrous one.

Andy’s mind had replayed that night with Marcus daily: his predatory look, the taste of liquor on his tongue, the heat of his touch, the way his mouth engulfed Andy’s cock in flames. Just thinking about it now was enough for Andy’s dick to stir.

But more poignant than all of that was the soft look Marcus had given him after Andy confessed his inexperience. The look was emblazoned in Andy’s memory, more precious than all the others.

And now Marcus stood in front of him again, deep in conversation with another incredibly attractive man. He was an idiot to think that Marcus had ever been upset over what happened. What exactly made him think that Marcus would want to hear what he had to say? Marcus had moved on to someone else who wasn’t such a basket case. He shouldn’t have come here; this was a bad idea.

He was about to turn and walk out when Marcus suddenly caught sight of him. The happy look on Marcus’ face disappeared into a scowl. Now Andy really wanted to run. Instead, he stood rooted to the spot and stared at Marcus, who stared back. Marcus’ friend followed his line of sight until he saw Andy; the friend figured out the situation pretty quickly. He glared at Andy, said something to Marcus, and walked away.

Andy continued to stand there as Marcus made his way closer. There was that look again, the one that made Marcus look like a predator. Andy’s heart leapt into his throat while his eyes watched Marcus’ slow saunter, hips swaying, shoulders rolling.

Marcus didn’t stop at arm’s length, but came right up until only an inch of air separated them. The crowd and bustle of the bar faded, and Andy found himself caught in Marcus’ vibrating presence. And the smell, Marcus’ unique cinnamon and spice, replaced the smell of sweaty, unwashed men. Andy’s head spun from its potency.

Marcus leaned in, and for a moment Andy thought they would kiss. He parted his lips in anticipation, but Marcus paused, just centimeters away.

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

Andy stepped back as if he had been slapped in the face.

He blinked away the fog of desire. “I... I wanted to explain.”

“I think you explained just fine.”

“No! That was... Please, I just need to explain.”

Marcus’ eyes were so dark that Andy was sure he would be turned away again. But then, to his surprise, Marcus sighed and rolled his eyes.

“Why do I always do this to myself?” he asked, more to himself than to Andy. He gave Andy a measured look. “Fine, so explain.”

“Um... Well, it’s kind of complicated.”

“Yeah, I figured that much.” Marcus sighed. “Look, this obviously isn’t a good time for this.”

Andy glanced at the crowd around him. Marcus was right; had he really thought that they would have this conversation in the middle of a gay bar? No, he had hoped that Marcus would drop everything and take him somewhere private and intimate, just the two of them. He now realized how ridiculous that expectation had been. He wasn’t anyone to Marcus, and Marcus had no obligation to go anywhere with him.

“You like kids, right?” Marcus continued.

“Huh?”

“Kids, teenagers. You get along well with them? You were with a group of them at the ball game. Next Thursday night, 6:30. If you want to explain, meet me at the LGBT Center in the Village. You can explain then.”

Marcus gave Andy one last look; it was that hungry look that made his heart skip a beat. But before Andy could respond, Marcus spun on his heel and walked away.

He sighed and watched Marcus disappear into the crowd. He didn’t know why he felt so strongly about having Marcus understand, but the feeling was like a compulsion, like an instant reaction to try to catch a falling glass before it hit the ground. Waiting until Thursday felt like watching the glass fall in slow motion, Andy reaching for it but not sure if he could catch it in time.

The whole thing didn’t make much sense to Andy. In all his years, he had never wanted to tell anyone about his proclivities. In fact, he had done everything he could to hide them. So why did he suddenly want to confess it all now?

But he had a bigger problem: the LGBT Center. If Ritz was the wrong place to have this type of conversation, a busy LGBT Center full of kids didn’t seem like a much better option. Andy knew which place Marcus was talking about; he had seen the subway ads around town but had staunchly ignored them.

The idea of going to the Center didn’t sit well with Andy; it felt like enemy territory—which was ridiculous, Andy realized, because he had now been to a gay bar—twice.

That was different, he reasoned with himself. A gay bar was a dark, hidden place where people went to indulge in the shadows. The Center was in the light where people didn’t try to hide, where they promoted exactly the type of lifestyle that was against what Andy stood for. Going to the Center felt like he was letting the enemy win.

Andy wandered the streets. He wasn’t ready to go home and hoped the night air would settle his nerves. If he was smart, he would stay as far away from that Center as possible. But he wasn’t sure that was an option anymore.

The priesthood, his vow of celibacy—it had once seemed like the solution, the hope that he clung to for salvation. Now it felt like a boulder tied around his neck. Some days it was so heavy that Andy could barely get out of bed.

He didn’t hate being a priest. In fact, he really enjoyed it. He enjoyed working with people, counseling them, helping them find peace in the Lord. He just wished he could find the same peace he always told others about. He wished he could find the contentment that came with knowing that even though the world was a sinful, fallen place, everything would eventually be okay because the Lord held everything in His hand.

But Andy didn’t know that everything would be okay. In fact, he felt like he was waiting for his carefully constructed life to fall apart. And something told him that showing up at that LGBT Center was going to be the beginning of the end.

Who was he kidding? The beginning of the end was when he had shown up at Ritz all those weeks ago and let Marcus take him home. Because ever since that night, he hadn’t been able to fall asleep without remembering the feel of Marcus’ lips on his, the heat of his skin, the taste of him. Every night, Andy had lain in bed, hard and aching, and tried to resist the urge to stroke himself.

More than once he had gotten out of bed after lying there for hours to kneel before the altar in the sanctuary. He prayed. He prayed with all his heart to be rid of those feelings, to be relieved of the burden. He prayed for peace, for that stillness that he was told comes from being in the presence of the Lord. Often, it would only be after an intense prayer session that he could finally fall asleep, exhausted. The next day, he would wake up and do it all again.

Sometimes he wondered whether it was all worth it. Maybe it would just be easier to give up and leave the priesthood. That would certainly be better than this sneaking around he had resorted to. But the thought of leaving the church terrified him. The church was the only thing he knew; it was his rock; it was what made his life make sense. A life outside of the Catholic Church was inconceivable. Andy literally wouldn’t know what to do with himself.

“Andy!”

He looked up to see an older man with greying hair walking down the sidewalk toward him. He tensed and wondered if he had a guilty look on his face.

“Hi, John.” Andy addressed the older man with whom he worked and lived, hoping his voice didn’t shake.

“Andy.” The older man smiled. “You’ve been out this evening?”

“Yes, just a walk around the neighborhood,” Andy answered and avoided the older man’s eyes. “Please, after you.”

They had reached the steps to the apartment kept by the parish for their housing, and Andy followed the other priest up the stairs. He was suddenly struck with curiosity.

“John, do you mind if I ask you a question? It’s kind of personal.”

“Certainly, what’s on your mind?”

Andy hesitated, not quite sure how to put his thoughts into words. He waited until they were inside and seated at the kitchen table. John moved around to make his evening tea.

“How... How did you know you wanted to be a priest?”

John paused and glanced at Andy in surprise.

“I was just curious,” Andy said in a rush. “You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.”

“No, no. It’s alright. It’s just that sometimes I forget that I’m a priest.”

“You forget?”

“Yes.” John smiled. “I wanted to be a fighter pilot when I was a kid; sometimes I still do.”

“A fighter pilot?” Andy could not picture kind, gentle Father John Sullivan as a high-flying fighter pilot.

“Yes, but it didn’t work out because you can’t wear glasses and be a fighter pilot,” John said and pointed to his gold-metal frames. “I did end up getting my pilot’s license, though. Even worked as a commercial pilot for a while.”

“Really? You were a pilot before you became a priest?”

“Oh, sure. I was in my forties when I went back to get my Master of Divinity. I’ve only been doing this for twenty years.” John’s brow creased in realization. “Hm, that sounds like a long time. but it doesn’t feel like a long time when you’re my age, I guess.”

“So why’d you want to be a priest? You didn’t like being a pilot?”

“Flying planes was fun. It was exhilarating. But…” John sighed, eyes lost as he sorted through his memories.

“I had a close call one time. It really shook me, more than it should have as a pilot. It was hard getting back into the cockpit after that. But I kept at it, even when I was in no mental shape to do so. I used to have to have a drink right before I flew or my hands would shake uncontrollably.”

John looked at Andy with a wistful smile.

“I realized that being a pilot had become my entire world. I didn’t know who I was unless I was flying. And I thought that if I couldn’t fly anymore, then I would just be nobody. That was a frightening way to live, always waiting for the day I couldn’t fly anymore, afraid of crashing the plane, afraid of being found out. I was constantly looking over my shoulder for some bogeyman to jump out at me.

“It wasn’t until my priest at the time convinced me to quit that I realized that I’m more than just my pilot’s license. I loved flying. I still do. But it was just a job, and I let it become my identity.”

Andy took a moment to process John’s story. He had never heard it before and had to admit that it was nothing like he expected.

“So is being a priest just a job, too?” Andy asked.

John laughed out loud. “It doesn’t sound very nice when you put it that way. But yes, I think being a priest is just a job; it’s not who I am. I am a man, fallen, with lots of problems and issues. The Lord is gracious with me every day, and I try my best to be the person He created me to be. Being a priest is just how I can express who I am, but it is not the entirety of who I am.”

Andy stared into the mug of tea that John placed in front of him and let the words sink in.

“Why do you ask, Andy? What’s got you thinking about this?”

Andy looked up from his tea, wondering how to answer without revealing too much.

“Nothing,” Andy said. “I was just curious.”

“Well.” John smiled again. “I hope we can be friends, Andy. This can be a lonely job, and we need to be able to lean on each other if we’re planning on sticking around for a while. I know we share things during confession and penance, but I think this is beyond that. There are challenges in this life that are important to talk about.

“I think too many people join the priesthood for the wrong reasons. So many people join because they’re chasing glory, fame, recognition. Others join to run away from something. Neither are right, and they can end up doing more harm than good.”

John stood up and stretched. “Speaking of penance, I don’t think I’ve heard your confessions in a while. Let me know when you’d like to sit down. Well, I need to take my old self off to bed now. You have a good night, Andy.”

John placed an encouraging squeeze on Andy’s shoulder before heading off to his room.

Others join to run away from something... They can end up doing more harm than good.

John’s words echoed through Andy’s ears, and his chest constricted. Was he running away from something? Would he end up doing more harm than good?

No, he wouldn’t allow it. He would just have to buckle down and try harder.

And confession—Andy had always had such mixed feelings about the sacrifice of penance. It probably had to do with all the secrets Andy kept locked up deep inside. Oh sure, the little things were easy, and Andy gladly confessed those on a regular basis.

But these feelings? This curiosity? The sinful night with Marcus? No, Andy couldn’t confess those; those were too sinful to share with another human being, especially one who could get Andy kicked out of the clergy.

No, those were secrets that Andy would have to bear himself. The weight of them was heavy on Andy’s shoulders, but Christ’s burdens had been heavier, Andy reminded himself. Christ had his cross to bear, and Andy had his own.