Page 82 of My Dead Wife's Ex Will Do
“Not one of those anonymous online hookups, was it?”
How the hell does Father Gabriel know about online hookups? I don’t even know about that, other than that apps for that exists. I’ve never used one, never even thought about using one. I suppose Victor has an account, although he’s never said as much to me. I shake the image of him signing in and swiping for a meetup with some anonymous man after a hard workout with a celebrity client on location.
“No, Father. He’s…” How on earth do I explain my relationship with Victor? It was complicated enough before we started sleeping together. “I’ve known him for a long time.” I skip mentioning the tiny details that he’s my stepdaughter’s father, my dead wife’s ex.
And I do not tell him that our first sexual encounter was the night of Leah’s funeral. I will never confess that. Not out loud, anyway. Not to any priest.
“And what are your feelings for him?”
Another question I don’t expect. “I…“ I don’t know how to answer it, either.
Father Gabriel stays quiet. The only sounds are the creaking of the wooden bench seat I’m sitting on when I shift position and the quiet shuffling of someone passing the confessional booth.
“I like him, Father. He makes me laugh. He’s kind. He’s generous and more perceptive than I’ve ever given him credit for. He’s…” I stop myself before I gush to my priest, of all people, how hot Victor is and how amazing the sex with him is. “He makes me think that I might have been wrong about a number of things," I say instead. "Including myself."
“Including sin?” Father Gabriel asks.
That’s a dash of cold water on my warm and fuzzy feelings about Victor. Because it is a sin, what I’m doing with Victor. The church’s attitude toward LGBTQ people has softened somewhat over the years, and St. Sebastian is more welcoming than most churches. But having sex with a person of the same sex is still a sin, and a mortal one, at that.
“Yes, Father. I think so,” I say.
According to Church doctrine, every time I take Victor’s cock into my mouth, or push inside him, I’m putting my immortal soul in danger.
I know this. Father Gabriel knows I know this. I wouldn’t be here in the confessional booth otherwise.
And Father Gabriel knows it’s me. The confessional booth was built to provide anonymity, but Father Gabriel has been the pastor at Saint Sebastian’s the entire time I’ve been employed here. He knows my voice.
Father Gabriel clears his throat. Ready to lecture me on the wages of sin, I presume. I start speaking before he can. “I loved my wife.”
”I know you did, son,” he says. He greeted Leah every Sunday. He presided over her funeral Mass. And yet, I don’t think he has any idea how much I loved her. He’s been a priest for twenty-something years, celibate and alone, except for God.
“I loved her more than my own soul,“ I say. “If the Church had told us that our relationship was a sin, I would have left the Church in a heartbeat to be with her.”
“Is that how you feel about this man?” Father Gabriel’s voice is more curious than judgmental, but I bristle at the question anyway.
“What I feel for him is nothing like what I felt for Leah.” I can’t help the snappish tone in my voice, and I’m even more annoyed that he might misinterpret what I mean. “I’m saying that it seems very un-Christ-like for the church to bless some relationships but hold others to be sinful.”
I keep going because I am on a roll now. “And if you compare same-sex relationships to incest or pedophilia, I’m walking out of here right now.”
“Jason,” Father Gabriel says calmly, “Have I said any of those things?”
I take a deep breath and try to calm my racing heart. “No,“ I say when I can speak in a lower tone. “I apologize, Father.”
“No need,” he says. “I’m well aware of the pain the Church has caused her LGBTQ children.”
“Are you, Father? I just got back from my stepdaughter’s wedding, where her other father had to get ’ordained’,” I use the same finger quotes Kelsey used even though I doubt he can see them through the mesh divider between us. “On the Internet so he could marry two women. Why couldn’t she marry the person she loves best in the whole world in the Church, the way her mother and I did?”
Father Gabriel lets out a deep sigh that sounds pulled from the depths of his own soul. “I find the Church’s doctrine on same-sex relationships as frustrating as you do.”
I highly doubt that, unless he’s in a same-sex relationship of his own. Though, if he is, he’s an even bigger sinner than me.
“Our parish welcomes gay and lesbian members,” he continues. “You know that. You’ve performed and sung at blessings I’ve done for gay and lesbian couples.”
“But a blessing isn’t the same as marriage, Father.”
“No,” Father Gabriel admits. “If it were up to me, I would marry same-sex Catholics, but I’m limited in my authority by the Diocese and the official Catholic doctrine, especially about the sacraments. However, I do believe the Church will change. Eventually,” he adds, after my skeptical snort.
“I don’t know if I can wait that long, Father.”
