A Beautiful Sin

by Terri E. Laine

  On the way, I stopped by my parents’ for dinner having not seen them in some time. Mom made my favorites and Dad was happy to have someone to talk about sports and politics to.

  “I can’t believe this day has come,” Mom said. “For a while there I thought maybe you would have chosen a different profession.”

  “And that would have been okay,” Dad added.

  Although I knew they were very proud of my choice.

  Mom’s smile warmed me where cold had seeped into my bones from the topic of conversation. “I was so worried about you. You pulled back from wanting to attend Mass. Thank heaven for Father Rose. When he started Saturday evening service, you seemed brightened by the prospect. It’s a shame he had to leave to take care of family. He was young and I thought he really helped you reconnect with God.”

  Father Rose had been a godly man. But I was more grateful not to serve as altar boy when Father O’Brien gave the service.

  I’d almost lost faith, but had come to accept who I was and trusted God’s plan for me.

  I didn’t stay long, much to Mom’s disappointment. I said my goodbyes and drove to the rectory to meet Father Cernak.

  When he ushered me inside with a friendly and easygoing manner that I liked, I knew instantly we would get along great. We sat and talked about what my goals were, which, to his surprise and my own, I told him truthfully that I’d been prepared to stay on staff at the seminary.

  “I’ll be honest. I had no idea this was coming. I was happy where I was, so this took me by surprise,” I said.

  He smiled gently. “God often works in mysterious ways, Canaan. There’s a good reason He brought you back here. I’m sure it will be revealed to you soon enough.”

  My guts twisted at the thought. The idea of counseling people I knew and the potential things I might learn chilled me. I questioned whether I would be capable of that. Worse, I both dreaded and feared my first visit to the sacristy. What should be a revered room was a place of horrors for me.

  “I’m sure you want to get settled. Let’s get your things.”

  The robust man was probably in his forties and moved with speed. It only took two trips to get all my things inside and deposited into my new room. It was decent—a small bedroom with an attached bathroom, much like my rooms at Notre Dame. I unpacked and put all my things away, which took no time at all. When I finished, I joined Father in the den.

  “Father Cernak, the nice thing about not owning a lot is it makes moving easy.”

  We both chuckled.

  “So, Canaan, I think first off, we ought to be on a first name basis, if that’s good with you.”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Good. Call me Bill, then.”

  “Bill it is.”

  “Tomorrow is Saturday, and I thought it might be best if you celebrated our five-thirty evening Mass. Does that work for you? It’s well-attended and it’s casual. You’re young, and I think you’ll be a hit with the youth. They’re the ones who frequently attend that service.”

  “Sounds good. I guess I need to work on my homily then.”

  “I was going to suggest just that. You can introduce yourself instead of focusing on the message from the gospel. It will make it easy on you, and it will satisfy the curiosity of the parishioners. And the Saturday attendees expect an abbreviated homily anyway. Now, Sunday, I was thinking you could do the early service and do the same thing. Is that okay?”

  “Yeah. It sounds good.”

  “On Sunday, I’ll do the nine thirty and eleven thirty. Then next week, we’ll move it around to give you a bit of exposure. Of course, you’ll be present at all.”

  “Sounds good.”

  Bill nodded, then added, “Great. Then why don’t I show you the office here so you can get acquainted with things? Tomorrow morning I’ll give you the grand tour of the church. Of course, I’m sure not much has changed since you left.”

  “Sounds good.” Why did I keep repeating the same phrase? Pull it together.

  “One other thing.”

  I glanced back at him. “What’s that?”

  “Father O’Brien.” I froze, unsure of where the conversation was leading. “The police have been around asking questions.”

  When he didn’t go on further, I prodded him. “About what?”

  “About his death. He fell backward and landed right on his head on the concrete, fracturing his skull. Even though he had a heart attack, they have to investigate if the heart attack came before or after the fall. They believe that it’s probably the former. They tell me it’s all as a matter of course for these things. I don’t think they will be back, but I thought it best to warn you.”

  Present Day

  He was moving fast, which I liked. His hand burned a trail down my back before he worked the zipper on my skirt.

  “God, Haddy, you’re so hot.”

  “Haven,” I said, correcting him.

  “Yeah, whatever,” he said, fumbling with my zipper.

  “Don’t talk, okay?” He was totally blowing this for me. I needed to get off and had made my choice for the night. I hoped I hadn’t picked wrong.

  “God, your body is amazing.”

  Whack. He slapped hard against my ass.

  The slap wasn’t actually that painful, but it rattled me. “Don’t hit me. I’m not into that.”

  Whack. “It’s a love tap, and your ass is off the charts.”

  That was it. I shoved him away from me and started buttoning my blouse.

  “What the hell, baby?”

  “Don’t ‘baby’ me. I told you I’m not into hitting.”

  I turned back, and his hands were palm up toward me with his pants around his ankles and his condom-covered cock pointing at me in accusation.

  “Okay, fine, fine. Don’t go.”

  His slightly smaller than average dick wasn’t worth my time.

  “Too late for second chances,” I said after zipping my skirt back up. With my clutch in my hand, I was out the door. I was up for a lot of things, but love taps weren’t one of them.

  The whole love tapping thing had unnerved me more than I cared to admit. I dropped my clutch twice before I was able to get in the elevator. During the ride down, I felt the burn in the back of my eyes. Shit. Where was that coming from? I rarely cried, yet tears dripped off my cheeks. I exited the building and quickly hailed a cab. Thankfully, the ride home was short and I grappled with the keys to unlock my door. It took me several stabs before I hit the damn slot and once I stumbled inside, I hunted for my phone and dialed Macie’s number.

  Her sleep-heavy voice indicated I’d woken her up. “Yeah? What’s wrong?”

  She knew me too well and had since our younger days at Holy Cross Catholic School. It was one thirty in the morning. I would never call her if something wasn’t wrong.

  “I just had a really bad one.”

  “A bad one what?”

  I wanted to tell her all about the memory that threatened to bowl me over, but instead I heard myself saying, “A date.”

  “Jesus. What happened?”

  So I told her about the dude who slapped my ass.

  She chuckled. “Okay, this is not funny in the least, but you left him standing with his dick ready to go.” She giggled some more, then sobered. “Do you think it wasn’t so much the slap, but the memories it triggered that had you heading for the hills?”

  She knew me better than I was willing to admit to myself. But I couldn’t find words to answer her.

  “I’m going to ask you this one more time. Are you sure you want to come back to Chicago?”

  I let my head fall back on the sofa.

  “I don’t know if the possibility of going back to Chicago was the trigger.”

  She was quiet. Too quiet.

  “Macie, you there?”

  “Thinking.”

  I sighed, needing her to talk me down from the ledge. “Well, can you think verbally?”

  “So, you know how I feel about your random hookups.�
��

  “Damn, you make it sound like I’m on the prowl every night. It’s like every blue moon when I get an itch.”

  “But can’t you find a steady guy to scratch you?”

  “Now that just sounds gross. Besides, I don’t think I’ll ever trust anyone enough to claim him. It’s all because of fuckface. He’s the reason I refuse to put my trust in anyone.”

  “You trust me?”

  I wasn’t sure that was a statement or a question. “Of course I do. You’ve been in the trenches with me. And you’ve never betrayed my trust.”

  “And maybe there’s a guy like me out there.”

  “Then you can have him. I like keeping things simple.”

  “And what’s that? Casual hookups so you can avoid something serious?”

  “Exactly,” I agreed.

  She sighed and I knew she’d given up the relationship talk with me for tonight. “Fine, but back to the initial problem. Has anyone ever slapped you before during sex?”

  “Yeah, and I don’t like it. At all. And I’ve dealt with it.”

  “And?” she prodded.

  “And what?”

  “Any memories, flashbacks, anything ding-a-ling?”

  I took a minute and thought about it. “No. Not that I recall.”

  “Then it’s definitely Chicago. So, back to my other question. Are you sure about this? This could totally fuck with your head.”

  It could, but this was a golden opportunity that didn’t come around often.

  “Yeah, I know. But if I don’t take the risk and do this, I could totally screw my career over.”

  “I know this may sound harsh, but is your career worth your sanity?”

  I groaned. I’d worked so hard ever since I left Chicago to escape my uncle. My art was what kept me focused—that and my mom’s memory. I did it for her too. I knew she would’ve wanted me to follow my dream, and art was my dream.

  “Yeah. It is,” I admitted.

  “Then you have your answer. And I’m here with open arms and a sturdy shoulder if you need it. You are going to stay with me, right?”

  “If you can stand me.”

  “Do you even have to ask that?”

  “Yes.”

  But she ignored my moment of self-doubt and moved on. “So give me the details.”

  “Macie, it’s almost two in the morning.”

  “Hey, you’re the one who woke me up.”

  And she was right. A small laugh escaped from my now happier face. I was thankful for her. She had a way of doing that for me. She was my shining light who managed to pull me through all the hell I was forced to endure. Without Macie and her mother, I was damn sure I would’ve never survived with a shred of sanity left. She helped me play the game with Uncle Kent so I wouldn’t get as many beatings. She taught me to keep my mouth shut when I would’ve sassed back. Macie taught me to be a thinker. And it paid off in the end. The abuse, though bad, wasn’t as frequent as it could have been. And even though Macie’s mom had no idea of what I was going through, she knew things weren’t good at home, just not why. I swore Macie to secrecy because I knew it would only cause more problems if her mom tried to intervene.

  In retrospect, I wasn’t sure there was anything I could have done differently. Uncle Kent was still on the police force and did a lot in the community. Aunt Kathy sent me tidbits over the last few years of all the accolades he’d been awarded for stellar service. If I’d accused him, he probably would have had a lot of his friends to help him out. I could’ve been sent somewhere else where it would’ve been just as bad or worse.

  “So? I know your show runs for six months, and I know when you’re coming, but are you going to give me the scoop about how you got hooked up with this deal? You’ve been super tight-lipped about it.” Macie’s voice pulled me back again.

  “Sorry. I was just thinking about how lucky I am to have you.”

  “Aww. I love you too, Have. But like you said, it is early in the morning, so talk.”

  “Fine.” I laughed but got right to the story. “Well, a friend of mine was selling her jewelry in Central Park, and she asked me if she could take a few pieces of mine to spruce up her little booth. So I said yeah and while she was there, this rich guy approached her and asked about them, then gave her his card and said he was an art broker.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Yep. Turns out he’s this broker named Jonathon Houston, who’s a pretty big deal in the art world. So I called him and he told me about this gig he’s setting up in Chicago. I have to do this, Mace. It’s all about the new breed of artist breaking out. I met with him and showed him my work. He was, or acted like he was, totally into it. He says I’m that blend of impressionist and eclectic. Whatever the hell that means. I just paint what I want to paint.” I didn’t have a degree in art but worked with whatever talent I was born with. “I don’t have a particular style and I told him that. But he said that I didn’t see what he did. So I’m coming. I have to see where this can take me. It could be my big break. Plus, he’s giving me an advance because he thinks my work is going to really sell. Like big time. And I can use the money.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me all this earlier?”

  “I don’t know. I guess it still hasn’t really sunk in.”

  “Jeez, this could totally be your ticket. But you love New York. This would mean leaving it all behind.”

  “It’s just temporary right now. The show runs for six months. And then it’s back to reality and New York. Who knows if this is the catalyst for my career and I won’t have to be that proverbial starving artist. Besides, I could work anywhere if I chose to stay in Chicago longer, and travel back and forth when necessary.”

  “Oh my God, this is so fucking cool. Okay, I am so on board with you coming back here. I have to admit I was going to try and talk you out of it, but after hearing this, you’re right. This could bust your career wide ass open. Your room is ready for you. And you haven’t mentioned, is this Jonathon hot?”

  I laughed. “He’s okay. Not really my type. He’s all starched shirts and suits. I’d never fit in his world. Besides, he had a ring on his finger. Anyway, it’ll be a couple more weeks before I come. I have to close up shop here since I’ll be gone for six months and that’s a long time. You haven’t had a roommate for quite a while. You’re sure about this?”

  “Totally sure. I have everything. All you need are your clothes and stuff.”

  “Thanks, Macie, you really are the best friend anyone could ask for. I wouldn’t be here today without you.”

  “Hey, remember our pact? We’ve got each other’s backs, right?”

  “I’d fist bump you if I could.” I could see her putting her fist in the air.

  “After all this great news, I think it’s safe to say I’m going to sleep well and not worry about you now. You almost gave me a heart attack earlier.”

  “I almost gave me a heart attack earlier. Thanks for talking me off the ledge, again.”

  “It’s what I do best.”

  “Good night. I’ll call you tomorrow.” As I curled up around my pillow, I thanked God for her again. I closed my eyes and hoped sleep claimed me for the few hours that it normally did. Only I woke up covered in sweat. The fear that consumed my unconscious mind pulled me out of bed and into my spare room where I worked out all the hurt and pain of the past on a blank canvas. Art was still and always had been my escape, my therapy. If not for it, I was pretty damn sure my mind would’ve cracked by now. Well, art and Macie.

  A fine sheen of moisture covered my skin as I jackknifed up in bed. The dream resurfaced from time to time. I shouldn’t have been surprised by its reappearance. His voice rang in my ear, as it had been then, only now it was a whisper. I blinked away the memories and prayed that I hadn’t called out and awakened Bill. He would only ask questions I had no answers for.

  The dawning day meant I would be forced to face my demons in that room of Hell. I searched for the instrument I needed to pay my toll of penance
. I found the stretch of leather that was worn with age and teeth marks. I stared at it with despair, remembering. Then I removed my robe before I whipped my arm over my shoulder and let the sharp sting take me away. One day, the sinner inside me would be purged, or so I prayed. One day, I would be cleansed and worthy of God’s love.

  Much later and after showering, I found my way to the kitchen for a small breakfast. Stomaching any more wasn’t possible if I were to face that room.

  “Good morning, Canaan. I hope you slept well in your new room.” Bill’s cheery greeting reminded me to turn my frown into a smile.

  Hoping my fudging the truth some sounded sincere, I said, “I did, thank you. And good morning to you.”

  “Excellent. I see you’ve already eaten. So how about we take our tour of the church then?”

  “Sounds like a plan,” I said, my guts clenching in protest. I swallowed back the miniscule breakfast that tried to bully its way back up my esophagus. My sweaty palms felt like they oozed moisture so I rubbed them on my pants, hoping they didn’t leave dark streaks behind.

  Following Bill’s long strides, we left the rectory and followed the walkway that circled the parking lot, then entered the church through the side door. It was early, only six a.m. There would be an eight o’clock mass that morning Bill would conduct, but currently the church was dark and empty. He flicked on some lights, casting the altar in a heavenly glow.

  “Look the same as you remember?” His voice came from my left. I looked at the scene, remembering how I served here all those years ago.

  “It does. I always thought the wood carvings in the front were something else. Even as a kid I used to stare at them.”

  “The altar you mean?”

  “Yeah.” It was hand-carved and made out of oak, or so I’d been told many years ago by one of the nuns.

  “I think it came from Italy,” Bill said.