I put on a brave face. “I love spending time with you. I’ll spend as much time with you as you’ll let me—before you have to go.”
He studied my eyes.
“I don’t have to go anywhere. As long as you want me to stay, I can stay.”
I let out a breath—the one I hadn’t realized I was holding.
“So, are you done?” he asked. “I think it’s time to get you home.”
Only the driver didn’t take us to my dorm. He stopped right outside of the apartment building with the construction fence. As soon as the driver was gone, I told Marcello that I needed to get back to my dorm.
“Nah. Come up—just for a little while. Then I’ll walk you home. Your first class isn’t until eleven.”
He knew everything else about me, why not that.
I was trepidatious, but I followed him up the stairs anyway. Once inside the place was ablaze with votive candles. I wanted to ask him if he wasn’t afraid the apartment would burn down, but why should he worry? It looked beautiful in the gentle flickering light. A closer examination revealed that the lights were all battery-powered LEDs. He came up behind me and wrapped his arms around me.
“No fires of hell here, Angel. Just the cool light of heaven—especially with you here.”
My eyes instinctively closed. I tried to remember everything I was feeling: his strong tight embrace, the scent of his musky cologne, and his warm breath that tickled my ear. I knew this was all wrong, but I didn’t want it to end. It didn’t matter that we’d been at church only a few hours ago. I wanted to be sinful. I wanted to be sinful with my own personal devil, Marcello. Maybe I could give up my soul for eternity if this moment could last just a bit longer.
Marcello kissed my neck and his wiry beard scratched and tickled. It relaxed me enough that he easily led me to the sofa and sat me down beside him with his arms still wrapped around me. It was a bit awkward the way we were sitting so close. I had one leg over his to keep us close. He pressed his forehead against mine and quietly whispered to me.
“I want to kiss you so badly. I’ve wanted to kiss you since the first moment I laid eyes on you, Angel. Will that be all right?”
With our foreheads pressed tight, I could only manage the slightest nod. He rolled his face downward until our noses were touching too. Then he cocked his head to one side, and I angled mine the other way. His soft lips surrounded by his prickly forest of a goatee met mine. At first we just pressed our lips together, but it didn’t seem to be enough. He kissed me and then withdrew only to come back again and again with renewed force. Then he brushed his tongue against my lower lip. I’d never really kissed anybody. But I’d heard all about it. Still, even if I hadn’t, I was acting on instinct. My mouth opened and his tongue invaded. It was warm and wet and alive. And my tongue quickly engaged with his in a duel we fought in each other’s mouths. Only occasionally did we come up for air, but the separation always seemed too long and we hungrily launched back at each other.
If this was sinful, why did God make it so wonderful? Why did God allow me to feel so much joy? Why would any God that truly loved all his children deny any one of us this pure pleasure?
I was the one who changed our position. I was the one who had to find a way to be closer. I pushed Marcello back so that I was lying on top of him. I wanted as much of our bodies in contact as possible. My hands went wild, seeming to act all on their own. It was as if they wanted to feel every part of him. My fingers ran through his thick hair. My palms held his cheeks firmly. My thumb brushed against his earlobe and he trembled, so I decided to kiss that too. He shook even more.
For his part his hands explored my back as he pulled me in tighter and tighter. He ran a hand through my hair and slowly down my nape. I shuddered and he kissed me on my neck, just below my jawline. I let him kiss and lick and bite at my neck while I moaned and only wanted more.
And then it happened.
I don’t know when my shirt had come untucked. But it had, and his hands had reached inside and began exploring my skin at the small of my back. That was the moment my brain came back online. That was the moment God told me no, what I was doing was wrong. That was the moment I pushed myself away from Marcello and stumbled to my feet. Catching my balance wasn’t easy, but I made it to the door and ran all of the way home.
Chapter Four
I COULDN’T sleep at all. My mind just kept replaying everything that had happened that night. It had all been so wonderful, so exciting—and so guilty. I tried masturbating to help me sleep, but my fantasies stayed concentrated on Marcello and it only increased my guilt. By morning I was a wreck, in more ways than I knew. I had a huge bruise on my neck—a hickey. It was too high to cover even with a collared shirt. But that didn’t matter. My face was red and raw. It didn’t hurt and I wasn’t sure what it was. After shaving I rubbed some body lotion on it. The lotion cooled and soothed a slight pain that I hadn’t even realized was there. But the redness remained. Resigned to the evidence of my weakness, I left for class.
As I mentioned, I’m not great with friends. The closest I have is my study group that meets after our accounting class. If they hadn’t already seen me in class, I’d have skipped study group. But what good would that have done? If I’d skipped study group, I was sure I’d run into Marcello. He’d either want to talk about what happened or send me back to study—or both.
Kyle was snickering and I did my best to ignore him. Jasmine tried to get him to pay attention, but it was no use. He finally had to blurt out, “It looks like somebody got lucky last night. Ask her if she’s got a sister for me.”
Kyle couldn’t seem to attract a girlfriend on his own. He’d be a great accountant—working with numbers came naturally to him. Communicating with people was a different matter. He didn’t read emotions well enough to stay in a relationship or to see that I was annoyed and didn’t want to talk about it.
“But man,” he went on, “what’s that rash? Did she have some kind of STD?”
Jasmine smacked him on the shoulder and then whispered in his ear.
“Huh? Whisker burn? Can you get that from shaving?”
“You idiot.” Jasmine was irritated. She pulled him close and whispered again.
“Oh…. Oh! Oh man!” His eyes went wide. He pulled away. “Hey man, I’m sorry. I didn’t know. But maybe he’s got a sister?”
Jasmine smacked him again, much harder than before.
“Ow!”
“Shut up,” she said. “Leave Gabriel alone and let’s just study.”
I’d like to say that was the end of it, but for the rest of the study session I felt self-conscious every time someone looked my way. Were they studying my face? Were they thinking about me being gay? And the worst part was that I didn’t know what to say to change their minds. Jasmine knew what she was looking at. Girls probably get whisker burn all of the time. But I was afraid to ask her how to make it go away. That could only lead to more awkward conversations.
As soon as the study session was over, I bolted for the privacy of my dorm room. I wished I had a ski mask so I could get out long enough to buy some food.
BY SATURDAY the whisker burn was gone, but the hickey was still lingering, just a little less noticeably. It was time for confession. It took me a while to build up the courage to step into Father Christopher’s confessional, but I managed. There’s always a bit of time when you’re left alone while Father takes the confession of the person on the opposite side. If I weren’t freaked out enough about what I was going to say, this extra time let me freak out even more.
Finally the screen opened and I began. “Bless me Father for I have sinned. I’ve really messed up. My whole life is messed up.” That’s when I started to cry. I couldn’t stop.
“Gabriel? Gabriel, is that you?”
Nodding while I sobbed wasn’t helping. I squeaked out a quiet “Um-huh.”
“Gabriel, you sound very upset. Why don’t you wait for me in my office? We can talk there. Is that okay?”
Father Bramble had already quit hearing confessions, so I wasn’t too surprised to run into him on my way to Father Christopher’s office.
“What do you want back here?” was his gruff greeting.
“Father Christopher asked me to meet him in his office,” I offered.
“Well, you know the way” was all the dismissal he spared me.
Father Christopher would have said, “Bless you, my child.” He always said that.
The wait was interminable. I stared out the window to the manicured gardens. I wandered around his office and looked at every picture on the wall. I was pleased to see one of me as an altar boy. Father Christopher stood in the center, and four of us surrounded him looking as angelic as preteen boys could.
Finally there was a knock just before Father Christopher entered his own office. He smiled sympathetically at me and asked me to have a seat. Instead of pointing to the chair near his desk, he pointed to the couch. Once I was seated, he took the adjacent chair.
“May I get you something to drink? Coffee? Water?”
I shook my head. My throat had closed up and I wasn’t sure I could talk at all. How would I ever tell Father what I had to? I sat quietly.
Father sat quietly with me—waiting.
Finally he broke the silence. “Gabriel, I told you last week that you can’t ask for forgiveness until you’re ready to forgive yourself. Are you ready to forgive yourself?”
I shook my head. “I can’t. If you knew what I’ve done, you couldn’t forgive me either. I’m a sinner.” I couldn’t look Father in his eyes. I didn’t want to see the condemnation.
Father stayed quiet and finally I had to look up if only to ask him what I should do. When I looked up, he smiled.
“Gabriel, you are not a sinner. Intense, yes—sinner, no.”
“You don’t know what I did.”
“Well, I don’t think that you’ve killed anyone, and so long as no one died, there’s nothing that you’ve done that can’t be fixed.” He was smiling while he said that. I’d wipe the smile off his face.
“I kissed a boy.”
That did it. But he didn’t look mad or outraged. Instead he looked… contemplative.
“A boy or a man? Was he over eighteen?”
“Oh yes.” Who knows how many centuries?
“Then you’re not a pedophile. You haven’t broken any laws.”
“But—”
Father interrupted me. “Do you love this boy?”
I hadn’t thought that far ahead. But the answer was instantly within my grasp.
“Yes.”
He shook his head. That wasn’t a good sign.
“You know the Church’s stand on homosexuality.” It was a statement, not a question.
I dropped my eyes and nodded.
Father stood up and walked to the window. He stared out to the garden—lost in thought. Without looking back at me, he started to talk.
“The world has changed a lot in just the past few years. The world changes while the Church struggles to resist change. I can’t promise that the Church will ever change its stand on the subject.”
He was so disgusted with me that he couldn’t even look me in the face. This was a sin that could never be forgiven.
“I was just a few years younger than you when I entered the seminary. I didn’t think I had any other choice.”
Maybe his calling was too great? I only wish my faith was as strong. But Marcello had put other ideas in my head. He’d challenged my faith in the Church teachings. I wanted to believe that everyone goes to heaven. I wanted to believe that God loves all of his children unconditionally—maybe even the gay ones? Marcello’s beliefs were far more comforting than what I’d been taught. My faith had been shaken, and that’s why I had given in to sin.
Father went on, but the words were choked. “I fell in love with a boy too.”
I was stunned.
“The times were different. My parents were important members of the Church. They didn’t force me into the seminary, but they didn’t really give me any other choice either. I had my family, my church, and nothing more.”
“What about the boy?” I suddenly felt only sorrow for Father. There had to have been other choices for him.
“The boy had his own demons to fight. He joined the military while I was trying to decide what to do. He never wrote and we lost all contact.”
“Maybe he’s still out there somewhere? Maybe he’s still in love with you?” What kind of romantic had I become? I was asking Father to break all of his vows to go out and find his lost love.
Father wiped at his eye. “A few years ago I tried searching for him on Facebook. I found a page dedicated to him. He’d died in friendly fire. He’d never even made it out of the country or off from his base.”
He turned back to me, wiping his eyes again.
“As your priest I can only tell you Church teachings, but you know them as well as I. As a human being I will tell you to take what love is offered to you—it is rare and fleeting. Don’t let it slip away. And most importantly don’t feel guilty for taking it. God wants you to love— He doesn’t put any restrictions on how, or whom you love. Only the Church could be so cruel.”
Father didn’t come back to where I was seated. Instead he went to his desk and shuffled through some papers. Without looking up he said, “I’ll see you at communion tomorrow.”
I stood and headed for the door. Just before I walked out he said, “Bless you, my child.”
I ALWAYS arrived at church early for the ten-o’clock mass. I needed time to silently meditate. I’d watch as the altar boys prepared at the dais like when I was little. I’d always wanted to be like one of those beautiful saintly boys. I had been like them, once. I watched as others silently filtered in. I always sat near the side aisle on the right, about midway back so it was easy for me to get up for communion. This spot usually offered me an unobstructed view of the pulpit Not too many people would choose my row until most other seats were taken. Except for today.
As I knelt watching the preparations, someone chose my aisle and came to kneel right next to me. He’d moved so silently I doubt anyone in the quiet church heard. I didn’t have to look. I knew it was Marcello. He always knew where to find me. He silently prayed until the choir began their first song. They warmed up with something quiet and peaceful so as not to break the sanctity. The smell of incense hung in the air. An altar boy hurried in and quickly crossed to check something at the lectern. He genuflected each time he passed the cross. Soon the processional would begin. I crossed myself and sat back to join Marcello.
Father Christopher celebrated mass. His sermon spoke of love—God’s love and our love for one another. His words took on a much deeper meaning for me than they might have any other Sunday. When I lined up to take communion, Marcello followed and knelt beside me.
After mass, we remained silent as we filed out past Father Christopher.
“Thank you, Father” was the standard greeting after mass, so I complied dutifully.
“I’m glad that you came today, Gabriel. It’s always good to see you.” Then he turned to look beside me, and he smiled. “It’s good to see you again, Marcello. Please don’t be a stranger.”
How did he know Marcello? Had Marcello come to him so many years ago to lead Father into temptation?
“Can we talk?” Marcello finally asked once we were outside.
I said nothing. I walked silently toward the Parish Hall where coffee and donuts would be served. Marcello fell in step beside me. Once we both had our coffee and donuts, Marcello handed me my coffee stirrer and a napkin.
“I’m so sorry, Gabriel. Aren’t you ever going to talk to me again?”
“No.”
He laughed. “You do recognize the irony of your answer, don’t you?”
I huffed, “Yes.”
“And the fact that you keep talking to me even if it’s only monosyllables.�
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“Why are you doing this to me?”
“That’s better,” he said. “A question I can answer. I can’t believe you don’t know the answer already, Gabriel. I’m doing this because I love you.”
I tossed my coffee and half-eaten donut into the trash, and I grabbed Marcello’s from him and tossed his too.
“C’mon. Let’s get out of here.”
We were out the door before I realized I was pulling him by the hand. I dropped it like a hot potato.
He was laughing. “Where are we going? Back to my place?”
“No—definitely not! If it even is your place. We’re going someplace public.”
“The Parish Hall seemed pretty public.”
“Public where nobody knows us. Where I can’t get into any more trouble.”
He gave me an evil grin. “Gabriel, I can get you in trouble anywhere you go. You can’t escape my charms.”
“Well, I’m going to try.”
When we got to IHOP, the line was out the door. I wasn’t going to wait until dinnertime to have breakfast. So we just started walking.
“Why me? Why me? Of all of the souls on the planet that you could tempt, why would you choose me?”
“Gabriel, you don’t know how beautiful you are. Not just on the outside.” He stopped walking and looked me up and down, taking in every part of me before settling on my face. Then he took a deep breath. “And you are beautiful on the outside, but not half as beautiful as you are on the inside. I thought I knew you before, but I realize I didn’t know you at all.”
I huffed and we walked on. “What kind of devil are you? You seemed to know everything about me. Don’t you guys do your homework before choosing a victim?”
“Sometimes fate does the choosing.”
“I don’t get it.”
Marcello took a deep breath before he began.
“Remember when I told you that everyone goes to heaven?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, heaven is just an easy term for people to understand. The other side is really where I’m talking about. It’s another dimension outside of the earthly plane, but it actually exists all around us. We just can’t see it.”
Gabriel and the Devil Page 4
