A Beautiful Sin (29 page)

I wrapped my arms around myself. “No, you don’t get it, and I can’t explain it either. Canaan is…he’s not like anyone I’ve ever known.”

Hands gripped my shoulders and she drilled me with her gaze. Then she squinted and said, “You’re in love with him, aren’t you?” Not wasting a second, I looked away. “Haven, answer me truthfully.”

My head fell back down while my hands plowed a path straight through to the roots of my hair. I nearly pulled it out the way I tugged at it. “Yes, I’m in love with him.” Lifting my head, I said the words directly to her. “I tried not to. I did. I avoided him as best I could. Then I attempted the friend thing because going cold turkey was killing me. But look where it got me. I’m that person who is not worthy, Macie. I’m going to Hell for sure. Not because of what I’ve done to myself, but look at what I’ve done to him.”

Macie threw her hands up in the air. “You’re being ridiculous. He had a choice. Everyone has a choice.”

“No, they don’t. Not when…” My hand fluttered in front of my face, trying to stem the tears. Talking was next to impossible.

“What are you trying to tell me? That you raped him?”

She had gotten under my skin and now I was so completely agitated. I wanted to shake her. “No, I didn’t rape him.” My head lolled back as I collected my words. How could I adequately explain this to her without spilling the horrors of Canaan’s secret? “There’s something I can’t share with you, and I have to leave it at that. But as we talked and he tried to calm me over the Kent thing, we drank and then one thing led to another. It happened, Macie, but
I
was the instigator. It was my fault.
I
should’ve stopped it, and I didn’t. I pretty much seduced him.”

Her mouth gaped open. Mine would’ve done the same had she shared this piece of information with me.

By now, I paced the floor, wringing my hands.

In a calm and quiet tone, Macie said, “Haven, you’ve known me how long? Since the first grade?”

Nodding, I walked over to the liquor cabinet and poured a vodka.

“You can’t blame this entirely on yourself,” she said.

I took a big gulp of my drink. “Yeah, I can. He didn’t even know how to kiss me, Mace. How do you think I feel, knowing I’m the one who urged him on? There’s a lot to this story I wish I could share, but I can’t. And I know you don’t understand, but trust me on this—I’m the bad one here and I bear responsibility for it.”

Macie stared at me, shaking her head. There was nothing she could say to ease my grief. Nothing in the world could do that. I sat back down next to her and drained my glass. As I did, tears came for Canaan. I cried for the young boy who had been damaged at such an early age and was ashamed and frightened to tell anyone. I cried for the young man who had buried the pain and heartache deep within him all those years. I cried for the priest who had endured the guilt of what he saw as being a sinner when he wasn’t. I cried for the adult who had finally released the truth only to be seduced into sinning. And it was just as grave, if not graver, because it was not forced upon him. And lastly, I cried for the man Canaan who was every bit as beautiful inside as he was on the surface.

My lips tingled with the memory of hers, the pressure of them still lingering there. If a heart could ache any worse than mine did, I never wanted to feel it. Lost, hopeless, disoriented were terms that best described me. After I returned to my room, my body hummed with want for her. Sleep was a thing of the past. There were many things I thought of doing, including drinking myself into oblivion, but none of those would erase her from my body and soul. At three, it was time to try to rest, and I did so fitfully. At five, I woke up with my hand in my pants, stroking myself, a vision of Haven on top of me. I jumped out of bed and fell to my knees, begging God’s forgiveness. Masturbation wasn’t something the church allowed. It was considered a mortal sin that turned us away from God and selfishly toward ourselves.

My hands shuffled the items on my nightstand in search of my rosary, where it usually stayed. Once it was untangled from its place of rest, I launched into prayer, tenderly handling each of the round beads. I recited the Hail Mary—the dominant prayer in the rosary, devoutly. I begged the Virgin Mary for her help, although why she would stoop to help a tainted soul, a fallen priest such as myself, was beyond me. Had I not deemed myself unworthy of one so pure as her? Even so, I continued on, until it was time to prepare for Mass.

Minutes passed like hours, until late afternoon when I was able to lace up my shoes and go for a run. It wasn’t until the sun started setting that I headed for home with aching thighs, burning lungs, and a parched throat. The run had clarified something and I knew where I’d be heading the next day.

Since this was my second visit, I took the train because the first time taught me about the traffic and parking. It turned out to be easier and less stressful riding public transportation.

When I entered the church, I had no idea what to expect. Would the priest condemn me for what I had done? It would be deserved if he did.

There was a green light over the confessional, so I entered. “Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. My last confession was one week ago.”

He said a prayer for me and then asked, “What is it you wish to confess today?”

“I have committed a mortal sin.” Air locked in my lungs, and I was unable to say more.

“And what sin is that?”

“I have been with a woman, sexually. I have broken my vow of celibacy. Father, I am a priest.”

There was a long pause. “You were here before? After you kissed the woman?”

“Yes, Father.”

“I see.” Again, silence. And then, “I am afraid I don’t quite know how to advise you. God forgives all sins, even that of your broken vow. Jesus Christ forgave Judas who betrayed him, and God sent his Son to save us sinners. I will absolve you from your transgression, however, I can’t offer you advice, and I suspect that’s what you came here for, along with absolution.”

“It is, Father.”

“I’m terribly sorry to disappoint you. As you are aware, celibacy is a discipline as opposed to a doctrine. Was this woman you had relations with married?”

“No, Father.”

“Then you must seek the forgiveness from your bishop and ask for his absolution for your sin. Strictly speaking, you broke your vow when you kissed her and continued your relationship with her. Having sex took it further. My recommendation would be to discuss this openly with your bishop. If you plan to continue your duties as a priest, you must not see her again.”

“Yes, I know. I have done penance and prayed, and I never intended to continue this relationship.”

“Temptation is all around and we must be aware of it at all times.”

“Will you pray with me, Father?”

“Yes.”

We went through a series of reconciliation invocations, and then he administered my penance. I left the confessional and went inside the church to pray. A million questions rolled through my head as I gazed as the crucifix. Was I good enough to remain in the role of a priest? Did I deserve the Holy Orders I had received? Never before had I doubted my duties to the church, until meeting Haven, it had become abundantly clear that there was more to me than my dedication to Catholicism. God-fearing that I was and true to my convictions, I never had reason to question myself before. But the priest set my wheels spinning, particular with regard to Haven. She hadn’t acted like the temptress, yet the priest had inferred that she was. That wasn’t the way it had been at all. What we shared, in my eyes, had been beautiful, even though I wasn’t supposed to think of it that way. She had coerced me into confronting my demon, and remorse filled me for staining her character that way. We were both victims of cruel circumstances.

My aching knees told me it was time for me to leave. My obligations at Holy Cross hadn’t vanished, so, deep in thought, I found my way back to the L. The early November chill reminded me that the holidays would soon be here bringing many other church commitments. There was one person who could advise me, but it wasn’t very likely I could get away this time of year. I had to check with Bill first. A visit to Notre Dame and a talk with Father Tony might be something that could set me to rights.

“Tell me you’ve decided to move here.” Macie had that look. The one that told me if I didn’t give her the answer she wanted, she would bug me to death until I did.

Lugging a box filled with art supplies into the apartment, I said, “I haven’t made my decision yet. You know I need to go back to New York and figure out things with my lease first.”

“What about Kathy?”

The box in my arms almost dropped to the floor. “What about her? Did something happen?” My heart skipped two dozen beats just from that single question.

“Calm down. I was only saying that because we’d started the search for her apartment earlier.”

I set the box in my room and flopped down on the couch. “Oh, Macie, I wish she’d give me the go-ahead. But she won’t commit. Even after I told her about what that shithead did at the bar.”

“Yikes, and that was a couple of weeks ago.”

“Yeah.” And it was the last time I saw or spoke with Canaan. But I thought about him every single minute of the day. Was he okay? Had he forgiven himself for what happened, because no doubt he would’ve shouldered the blame? “I’m going to give her a call again and remind her I’m leaving soon and won’t be here to help her. Maybe that will spur her into action. She’s been hinting about me taking her to church, and I’ve been quickly changing the subject every time it comes up.”

Macie looked at me with pity, which I hated, and I called her on it. “Listen, I can handle just about anything, but don’t ever pity me.”

“I wasn’t—”

I cut her off before she could finish. “Yes, you were. I know you, so don’t try to wheedle out of it.”

“Okay, but I feel bad for you. I know how hard these last two weeks have been on you.”

She got that part right. Some days going into the gallery had only been a blur, I was so out of it. “Fine, I get that, but just tell me. Don’t look at me like I’m a puppy getting ready to get hit by a car.”

“Okay, okay. I heard you. So, about church, are you still going to go? What are you going to do?”

“I pretty much have to go. What explanation can I give for not going? Especially since I’ll be leaving soon?”

In Macie’s fashion, she said, “Don’t worry. When it happens, I’ll be there with you for support.”

“Thanks. I can always count on you.”

“Which is exactly why you need to move back here.”

She was probably right. However, if I did, that would bring me permanently closer to Canaan, and that was the last thing I could handle, him being so close. What I did need was to get as far away from him as possible. Maybe then I could piece back the crumbled bits of my heart. And the worst thing about it was I couldn’t turn my hate on him. I only had myself to hold accountable for getting into this mess. He hadn’t done a single thing wrong. The whole thing was my fault. I’d made the catastrophic error of falling in love with a Roman Catholic priest.

Unfortunately, as I predicted, when I called my aunt, she requested I take her to church the following Sunday. Macie said she’d accompany us as promised. Since I would be leaving Chicago in another week, there was no way to refuse her.

Early Sunday morning, Macie and I took the L and went to Aunt Kathy’s. When we arrived, I was expecting to see my uncle. Macie stood in front of me on the porch in case Kent was there, only he wasn’t. My aunt came out and the Uber we took from the train station instead of the bus waited on us. Walking to church wasn’t an option for Aunt Kathy yet.

“Aunt Kathy, you look much better than the last time I saw you.”

She offered me a timid smile. “I feel better. He left in a huff this morning when I told him you were taking me to church. I’m not sure where he went.”

“Would you please consider moving before I go back to New York?” I begged.

She only nodded and by that time we’d gotten to Holy Cross. We went inside and found our seats. One part of me hoped for a glimpse of Canaan, and the other prayed he wasn’t here today.