Would they still meet up like this in Warsaw? He could take Emil to his favorite café. It had a rainbow flag sticker on the door, and he was pretty sure the two female owners were a couple, so he only patronized it in civilian clothes. But they baked the most divine desserts. Adam wasn’t sure if Emil would have appreciated any of the fancy flavors, but when it came to food, Adam was a hipster at heart and loved everything matcha, especially the meringues.
In that place, they wouldn’t have to sit on opposite ends of the table. They could be on the sofa together, their shoulders and thighs touching. Or maybe, if he hadn’t been a priest in the first place, he could have put his arm across Emil’s back so that everyone knew he was taken.
They likely wouldn’t have money for a big place of their own, but he wouldn’t mind sharing a small space with someone so compatible with him despite their many differences. He imagined them carrying flat-packed furniture up the stairs of a pre-war villa, to the cheap apartment in what used to be the attic. They’d assemble the book cases together, though Emil would halfway demand to take over, leaving Adam as a helping hand and refreshment-bringer.
He was so good at DIY. He dealt with most issues in his home with ease, and had even come over to hang new shelves in Adam’s bare room at the parsonage. Watching him work with his hands was a pleasure in itself, as it reminded Adam of the other things those skilled fingers could do.
Beds were most expensive, so they’d sleep on a mattress laid out on the floor at first, with no one to ask why Adam stayed overnight in another man’s house. Because it would be theirs. They’d choose their own plates, and cutlery, and they’d share a wardrobe. He wouldn’t be stuck with whatever the parsonage offered or what his mother picked out. Every morning, Adam would grind fresh coffee so that they could have it together at breakfast, and when asked, he’d answer without hesitation: ‘of course, we’re boyfriends’.
But he couldn’t say it now, because he didn’t intend to stay with Emil, even though thinking about that bleak future made his chest heavy with regret.
He glanced at the nearby church again. He’d have enough time for confession if he went now, but Emil seemed so animated, so excited for the meeting that he decided to stay and drink his coffee slowly while they discussed silly gossip.
Emil checked his watch as he finished his drink. “Time to go. Excited to lug boxes of cherries?”
Adam was definitely excited to see Emil’s biceps bulging as he carried the crates, but he kept that to himself and quickly paid for their meal before following Emil into the square. The sky was now overcast, but he still had plenty of sunshine left inside him.
“Let’s do it.”
They walked out of the car-free zone, to a small park near the parking lot where they’d left Father Marek’s car, and sat on one of the benches, watching an elderly couple feed pigeons chunks of dried bread.
“I might also make a plum batch. Mrs. Zofia’s daughter visited me a while ago after coming over to sort out the house, and she offered the plums from her mother’s orchard if I wanted them. She’d heard what people said about me and the crows and felt bad. It was very nice of her.”
Adam smiled, but his face fell when a swarm of crows descended on the poor pigeons, scaring the elderly lady so much she dropped the whole paper bag on the footpath. The black birds tore it up, scattering the bread as if it were guts, and just like that—Adam was back on the edge of the ditch, watching Zofia’s torn-up remains.
“Can they have rabies?” Adam asked when the couple hurriedly left.
Emil shook his head. “No. They’re just always like that. Look, that’s the car. The red van.” He got up and gave the driver a short wave.
The man waved back and parked the vehicle on the side of the street. Two little girls sat in the other front seat, but the farmer left them to play and approached with a polite smile. He looked like the most average of average thirty-somethings, though he did have a bit of bulk to his shoulders.
“I’m Piotr,” he said and shook Adam’s hand first. It was only when he was close that Adam spotted a pin on the side of his hoodie. It read Families Against LGBT Ideology and featured stick figures of a female and male character, with three little ones.
Adam’s grip faltered somewhat, but he kept his smile polite as he introduced himself too. “Thank you for giving us your time. I can imagine you’re a very busy man,” he said, nodding toward the van.
A smile lit up Piotr’s face, and he glanced over his shoulder. “They’re a handful, but I hear it’ll only get worse once they’re in their teens.”
There. Safe topic.
At Adam’s side, Emil crossed his arms on his chest. Adam noticed too late that he was no longer smiling. “Yeah. Fucking teenagers, right? Might grow their hair out, or put metal in their faces. We wouldn’t want that, would we?”
Adam froze, and so did Piotr, whose shoulders grew tense, changing his body language within the blink of an eye. “What’s your problem, punk?”
Just like that, they were one word away from punches flying.
“My problem is that White Power tattoo on your bicep. You still got that? Or did you replace it with a crossed-out rainbow or something?” Emil asked, clenching his fists.
Adam sucked in air when Piotr took a step closer, stiff as a slab of concrete. His face went red within a split second, and the only thing keeping him from going for Emil’s throat could’ve been the fact that his kids might’ve seen it. His eyes briefly darted over his shoulder again, and he took a deep breath. “I can easily find out where you fags live,” he said in a low rumble, and the threat had Adam’s stomach dropping.
“Can we do a time-out here? I don’t know what this is about. I’m a priest.”
Piotr eyed him, lips twisting. “You don’t look like a priest to me.”
Emil, on the other hand, was a wall and didn’t even flinch. Adam’s guess was that he didn’t want to start a fight with a guy who had his kids looking, either. “Maybe actually come over on your own this time, without five friends to back you up against a teen,” he snarled, and it became painfully obvious to Adam that there was history between the two men.
“Let’s try to work this out like civilized people,” Adam said, attempting to stand between them, but Piotr shoved him back.
“I’m talking to your lover boy, so stay in your lane.”
Adam had never been manhandled, not since childhood, and the force behind what was only a half-assed shove made uncertainty crawl up his back. It wasn’t a good idea to confront someone so aggressive, and he pulled at the back of Emil’s jacket.
Emil wasn’t having any of it though and in turn shoved Piotr. “You touch him one more time, and kids or no kids, you’ll be scraping your fucking face off the asphalt!”
The crows around them became louder, some flying up into the air, cawing like a crowd goading on a pair of boxers, but Adam would not let any blood spill.
Everything inside Adam told him to run, but he would not desert Emil on the battlefield. “This is ridiculous. Piotr, is that the kind of message you want to send your daughters? You can’t beat people up in the street and think God will forgive you if you confess and say the Lord’s Prayer ten times!”
Piotr huffed at him, showing his teeth, as if he were a dog threatening to bite. “If you really are who you’re saying you are, then you better start using your head, Father. So you studied for five years to become a priest, and you think that gives you all the answers? It’s because of meek people like you that lefty scum took over all the institutions in this country!”
“There’s literally a cross in every single classroom and government building in this country. What are you talking about?”
Piotr put his hands up with a scowl. “We’re done here. None of that depravity would have happened if John Paul the Second was still here. He would have showed vermin like you their place. Over my dead body are you getting my cherries! I’d rather see them rot than let them fall into your filthy hands!” With those w
ords, Piotr turned around and walked back toward his car like a bulldozer.
Adam stared at his back, his heart still beating like crazy and pumping adrenaline through his bloodstream. “Who does he think Pope John Paul was? Captain Catholic, the superhero killing enemies of the Church with a cross-shaped sword? I’m sorry for his children.”
Emil shook his head, stiff as walking tree. “Let’s go,” he said and grabbed Adam’s hand, but Adam flinched away.
He regretted the abruptness of his reaction when hurt flashed through Emil’s gaze, quickly replaced by a mask of indifference. “Maybe you’d like to do something else. We have the whole day to ourselves,” he tried, hoping that he might distract Emil from the fiasco.
“Yeah, and no cherries because I’m a ‘fag’. Let’s just go home.”
Adam’s gaze darted toward the church tower yet again, but there was no way he’d be going off to confession when Emil was so upset. “Okay. Sure. We could go for a walk once we’re home.”
“Let’s do that,” Emil grumbled and stuffed his hands into his pockets, leading the way to the car, but it was Adam who had the keys, so he ended up just standing by the passenger door as the first drops of rain fell from the sky.
Adam sat in the driver’s seat, unable to shake off the sense of failure. He should have been smarter about the way he tried to cool down the situation, though maybe Emil wouldn’t have let him. He didn’t have any words of comfort yet, so he started the car and drove off, uncomfortable in the dense silence that filled the vehicle with each passing moment.
Rain added to the misery of a day that had started out on such a positive note. Even though he couldn’t see them, in his gut Adam knew the crows would follow them home. After the unusual experiences they’d shared with Emil, he couldn’t lie to himself anymore and claim they were all coincidental. Something about Emil drew in the birds the same way bad luck stuck to him like hot tar.
Because, what were the odds of a friendly farmer turning out to be Emil’s old foe? Discomfort reached its breaking point once they left Sanok behind and turned onto a winding road that would eventually take them to Dybukowo.
“How did you know he had a White Power tattoo?” Adam asked in the end, unable to stand the void between them any longer.
“Because it was the last thing I saw after he kicked me so hard he broke my ribs and I passed out!” Emil snarled but only crossed his arms on his chest more tightly and wouldn’t look Adam’s way.
It made Adam want to turn around and… do what exactly? It wasn’t like he could unleash a karma payday upon Piotr, but the sense of injustice was so great it choked his throat and made him press on the gas that bit more firmly. “When?”
“Doesn’t matter anymore,” Emil said in a bitter tone that suggested it definitely mattered.
“Emil, please…”
Emil shrugged. “I was fifteen. On this grand outing to Sanok for a metal concert. I was drunk with my friend, who I had a crush on. We were teasing each other, boldly holding hands as we walked to the bus station in the middle of the night. We got jumped by a whole bunch of skinheads looking for a target. So heroic of them to attack two kids.”
Adam’s head pulsed with heat, but he tried to keep his gaze on the wet asphalt as the rain grew in intensity, smashing against the windshield with increasing anger. “What happened?”
Emil’s voice was dull as he spoke. “They beat me to a pulp. For long hair, for a spiked choker, for looking ‘faggy’, for no reason at all. I spent a month at the hospital, and my friend suddenly decided he was definitely not bisexual after all. Funny coincidence.” Emil’s nostrils flared when he took a deep inhale. “He actually managed to make a run for it, but I don’t blame him, we were both scared teens. You can’t expect that kind of bravery from people.”
Adam’s teeth clenched, and he squeezed the steering wheel harder. “Can’t believe someone like that, with so little respect for others, has the guts to wave the family man flag.”
“Well, it is what it is. His dad was friends with the mayor, and it turned out he had an alibi for the night it all happened. Nobody was prosecuted in the end.” Emil said with a shrug, looking at the windshield in front of them, but a tear dripped down his cheek. It seemed that even a man so bold and strong had a breaking point.
The inability to say anything that could offer Emil comfort stabbed into Adam’s chest, and he took a rapid turn when he spotted a narrow track leading into the forest. The vehicle sped at a tree, but he hit the brake, stopping only inches from the trunk.
Switching off the engine, Adam unbuckled his seatbelt with the other hand and pulled at Emil’s arm. “Come here, please.”
Emil exhaled and kept his gaze low, but eventually complied with the request. “It’s okay,” he muttered, rubbing his eyes.
“No, it’s not okay,” Adam insisted, moving closer until the handbrake dug into his ribs, but he wouldn’t let go of Emil’s warm body. Emil was a rock, someone who laughed in the face of misfortune and always found a way to see something positive in a life that seemed quite miserable. But he was just a guy. He cried and suffered like anyone else.
Emil struggled for deep breaths, shivering in the embrace, and Adam didn’t have to be a mind-reader to realize he was forcing himself to keep in sobs building up in his chest. It broke Adam’s heart to see him like this, and he cupped Emil’s face, pressing their foreheads together.
“Let’s go to the back?”
Adam wanted him back in his arms as soon as Emil pulled away, but they rolled out of their seats and rushed out of the car, sliding on the back seats before the rain made their hair damp.
He fell into Emil’s arms and pulled him closer, until Emil’s head was tucked under his jaw, and they half-lay in the back seat surrounded by walls of water that blurred everything outside the windows.
“I’m so sorry, Emil. Can I do anything?” he asked, shutting his eyes and tuning in to the shaky heat of Emil’s body.
“No. I don’t want to be a burden on you, but it hit me harder than I thought it could. I was over it, you know? This is just what you live with here. What’s it like in Warsaw? Will we be able to hold hands?”
It was obviously a request to change the topic. Adam met Emil’s gaze, which expressed so much hope any and all thoughts of setting him free in the big city, where he’d be safer and have access to other gay men, instantly went on the backburner.
Because it was clear Emil wanted to move for him, not the elusive possibility of maybe meeting someone. And in that moment, Adam wanted to promise him a grand future together, even if it were to involve secrecy due to Adam’s priesthood.
“There are homophobes out there too, but also lots of liberal people. Besides, most people won’t know you, so they don’t care. And even if we didn’t hold hands in the street, there are places where we could. Like this nice café owned by two lesbians. I’ll take you there, and I’ll sit right next to you.”
Emil stroked Adam’s thigh, hugging him closely as he lay next to Adam, accepting the comforting touch. “That sounds really nice.”
Adam nodded and rubbed some of the leftover dampness from Emil’s face. “Yes. And we should find a place somewhere with a lot of parks, so you feel less uprooted,” he said, even though he knew the change would still be a shock to Emil in the long run.
“You say that like I’m a wild animal.” Emil chuckled, rubbing his head against Adam’s chin, but Adam smiled and kissed the side of his temple, so completely at ease he might as well be a part of the rain tapping against the roof of the car.
“I suppose you are. But I don’t wanna tame you. I like you just the way you are,” he said with warmth in his heart.
Emil entwined their fingers. “How was it for you in Warsaw? I know you’re a priest, but you were a kid at some point too.”
Adam didn’t often return to these memories, but in this moment they didn’t seem all that painful.
“Easier. I was always focused on academic achievement, so I went to good
schools. There were kids who thought it was perfectly okay to be gay, and there were those who disagreed, but there was none of the physical aggression we’ve seen today. Not around me. I suppose the problem was mostly in my head.” He swallowed. “You know, I was among the anti-gay crowd,” he whispered, shuddering in shame at the hypocrisy of his current life. He couldn’t condemn gay people only to wave the rainbow flag the next day, and this period of adjustment he was going through now left him shaky and uncertain for the future.
Emil nodded. “And your family is very religious.”
“There was a lot of ‘hate the sin, love the sinner’. Not so much from Dad, but Mom’s really conservative. I didn’t want to disappoint her, and when I realized that I didn’t like girls that way—“He let out a laugh and shook his head, trying to push away his true feelings, because he wouldn’t be able to talk about any of this otherwise.
“She still tells this anecdote during each family holiday. About me telling her I was going to marry my male friend from kindergarten. Everyone thinks it’s hilarious. I don’t remember it, but she apparently explained to me that boys marry girls. It really stuck with me.”
Emil rested more of his weight on Adam, and the pressure released some of the tension in Adam’s muscles, keeping him safe. Like a weighted blanket. “Did you ever have crushes on boys later?”
“I did,” Adam said softly, wondering if his heart beat loudly enough for Emil to hear it too. “I always told myself I liked them so much because I admired them. Then I got older, and everyone started finding out about sex, and that’s when I really understood there was something wrong with me. The kids would try to be so edgy and made jokes about gay sex, and I could just feel all that contempt toward me,” he whispered when his voice broke. “I prayed really hard, but God wouldn’t change me.
“I tried not to think about guys that way, but then I discovered masturbation, and my problem got even worse. I’d tell myself it was the last time every damn day, and then I’d do it again, and I would imagine all those things my classmates found so gross. At Church, I was always told God doesn’t magically help those who aren’t willing to put work into solving their problems, so when I found out about conditioning during class, it just hit me that it might work on me too. From then on, I’d pinch myself or give myself punishments if I did or thought about something I shouldn’t.
Where the Devil Says Goodnight Page 22
