A Beautiful Sin

by Terri E. Laine

  “I think so, too. We’re lucky to have it here.”

  “Yes, we are. So, the tabernacle is the same, I’m sure.”

  I walked up the steps and moved behind the altar, opening the doors of the tabernacle, the small enclosure that held the chalices of hosts and wine. Of course now it was empty.

  “It is.” I smiled. “As is everything else, it appears.”

  “Good. All the books, missals, and so on, are too. So you should be fine. Just like an adult altar boy.”

  Like a fist to the diaphragm, all the air expelled from my body, and I felt punctured in the worst way. What should’ve been a glorious moment was instantly sullied and turned to something dirty and shameful. I quickly turned away to hide my face. There wasn’t a way to cover up my emotions, so the only thing to do was hide myself.

  “Ready to move on?” Bill asked, unaware of my turmoil.

  “Uh huh.”

  He led the way to the room where the altar servers changed. It was nothing more than an area where a series of multi-sized long red and black cassocks and white surplices hung. There were also hooded albs with several colors of cinctures, which could be coordinated with the colors of the priest’s vestments.

  “I remember wearing these,” I said.

  “I remember wearing similar ones in the parish I grew up in,” Bill added. “We ask the servers to arrive thirty minutes early and we have a lead server. Is that how it was when you served?”

  I nodded.

  “Good. Then shall we continue? By the way, you were educated here, too, weren’t you?”

  “I was.”

  The school was connected to the church. The server’s room had a dual exit. One went to the school, and the other to the church. It was designed for the students so after mass on school mornings, they could scoot right into the school.

  “I bet you have some stories.”

  “Not me. I was the good kid, the one who wanted to be the priest, the nerdy one.”

  Bill stopped and looked at me. “So you knew that young, huh?”

  “Yeah. And you?”

  “Not until college, actually. I saw everyone around me going to parties and chasing girls, and I wanted to connect with Jesus. I became the nerdy guy then.”

  “We all find our way, I guess.”

  “On to the sacristy.”

  His words chilled me. I rubbed my arms as if that would somehow help, left with no choice other than to follow him. My eyes stayed trained on the grain of the wooden planks on the floor, reminding me of the marks I had embedded into my own back as my discipline. I clenched my fists so hard that even my short nails made their way into the flesh of my palms. When the dark wooden door loomed before us, I shuddered, praying Bill didn’t notice. Thankfully, I stood behind him. He unlocked the door and walked through as though he didn’t have a care in the world. And why should he? The room wasn’t Hell for everyone. It was mine and mine alone.

  Bill’s voice faded as my eidetic memory brought forth image after image of Father O’Brien. Even with my eyes open, a playback of what had happened in there continued in my head. Searing pain, not just physical but psychological, gripped me, forcing my feet back toward the door. Tremors racked my body, and I knew I needed to get control of myself, or Bill would soon discover my secret. I slumped against the wall I’d backed into and mopped my brow with the back of my arm. Bill turned when he heard the sound.

  “Canaan, are you all right?”

  A lie buried in truth erupted from my mouth. “My stomach.”

  “What is it?”

  “I’m not feeling well. I need the bathroom.” I clamped a hand over my mouth as breakfast made its way to the back of my throat. His arm shot out in the direction I already knew in which to go.

  Slamming the door behind me, I made it to the counter and gripped the edges to stop myself from collapsing. I hung my head over the sink half bent over. The past I thought I could bury forced its way front and center.

  My knuckles tightened around the edge as the memory of the stench of his skin punched into me along with his grunts as he held me prisoner. Instead of the basin, I saw the wine stain that had become my only focus, my pinpoint of sanity during that first time.

  I panted as I did my best to wash the pictures out of my head. As I stared, drops of my own sweat trickled down the drain. Hauling in air through my nose, control slowly came back to me.

  Bill’s voice came through the door. “Canaan, are you okay in there?”

  Clearing my throat to make way for some air, I said, “Getting there.”

  “Do you need to go rest?”

  “Maybe. Give me a few more minutes.” I flushed the toilet for effect. Then I flushed it again.

  Running the cold water, I splashed my face until it felt chilled, and I was finally able to breathe easier. The question would be whether that debacle would recur once I left the safety of the bathroom. I had no choice but to see.

  When I walked out, I felt guilty for the concern that was imprinted in Bill’s face. “Son, are you feeling better? You gave me a bit of a scare.”

  “I’m not sure, to be honest.” I allowed myself to gaze around the room. When no further video replay threatened to undermine my ability to carry on a normal conversation, I said, “I think I’ll be okay.”

  “Are you sure? We can do this later.”

  “No, let’s go on.”

  He looked skeptical, but nodded. “This is where we keep all the vestments. Someone, either Sister Grace or one of the women from the Altar Guild, will have your vestments laid out for you before mass. It was something Father O’Brien always insisted upon. Since the Guild has taken it up as one of their duties, I think we should continue. Are you good with this?”

  “Yes, that’s fine. As long as they don’t mind doing it.”

  “They’ve indicated to me they enjoy it. I think it makes them feel a bit more needed around here.”

  I glanced at the table upon which the vestments would be set out and my guts twisted. The table. It was his favorite place of administering penance. I couldn’t prevent the shudder that ripped through me.

  Bill saw it. “Still okay there?”

  “I guess I’m not as good as I thought.” I wiped a layer of sweat off my forehead. I hoped it got easier being in here because if it didn’t, my life would be its own Hell on Earth.

  “We’re almost finished, and then I think you may need to go rest.” He showed me the closet where all the chalices, cruets, communion wafers, and everything else needed for Mass were stored. And then finally, he showed me the padded kneeler where I could pray before or after Mass, if I wanted. With a jolt, another memory crashed into me. That kneeler was used for many things by Father O’Brien, none of them being prayer. I didn’t want Bill to see me make a fool out of myself, so I made a flimsy excuse and bolted out the door.

  Only when I opened it, a woman with haunted faint blue eyes stood on the other side. I was shocked considering the early hour. So we stared at each other for a moment.

  “Can you help me?”

  Her words triggered a faint memory. But it fled as fast as it came, leaving behind the ever-present need to run.

  I shook my head. “I’m sorry,” I said, rushing off.

  When I got to my bathroom in my quarters, the meager breakfast I’d eaten earlier finally succeeded in making its reappearance. My declaration of not feeling well came to life. I was sick. Truly sick. I only hoped and prayed that I could turn things around and become the associate pastor Bill believed I could be. Right then, I wasn’t so sure I had it in me.

  It was weird being back. The skyline was different, but the city itself was so much like New York—busy and never truly asleep. But being so close to home haunted me. After a few days of settling in, Macie talked me into calling my aunt. Macie’s mom told her that she’d run into my aunt and she hadn’t been feeling well.

  As much as I hated my uncle, my feelings for my aunt were different. She hadn’t set out to make my life miserable
and had tried when she could to make my pitiful existence better. Weak and frightened were the best ways I could describe her through my adult eyes. And who was I to judge her because she couldn’t stand up to her husband? She had been his punching bag as often as me and had intervened during many of the times he beat me. I would learn later that she used sex to calm him or entice him away from me. If not for that, I wasn’t sure how I would’ve survived. In retrospect, she most likely put herself at great risk doing what she did, only I was a kid and didn’t understand that at the time. Since I’d moved, I had traded a few holiday text messages over the years, but if Kent hadn’t been in the picture, I would’ve done a lot more. Back in the city, I texted her that I wanted to see her. I didn’t have to specify that I didn’t want to run into my uncle. Her response stated he’d be working the day shift for the next two weeks. He was usually gone by eight in the morning.

  Because I would soon be busy with the gallery, I took a chance and stopped by in the morning. Only, after taking the elevated train, or the L as it’s known, and a bus, I arrived to find his cruiser parked out front. Not sure what to do, I walked away, not wanting to stand at the bus stop near their house as I made my decision. I ended up walking farther and passing Mom’s old house and was struck once again by her loss.

  Even after all this time, the overwhelming sense of her absence lassoed me and pulled me to the church without conscious thought.

  I stood staring at the spire when a hand touched my arm and nearly scared me out of my skin.

  “Sorry to scare you, my dear. I’m not as spry as I once was.”

  At first I saw no one and had to glance down until I saw a tiny older woman. To my artist’s eye, I beheld a face sketched with kind lines that revealed her age, much as tree rings did. A warm smile greeted me from beneath her nun’s habit.

  “It’s okay,” I reassured her.

  “The Lord works in mysterious ways, and it looks like he sent you to help me. Would you mind going in search of Father Cernak to help bring in donated baked goodies?”

  I nodded, and she moved exactly the way her shoes sounded—squeaky, slow, and steady. I almost offered to open the front doors of the church when her very shaky hands were taking forever. I headed through the church in search of the priest. After finding the sanctuary empty, I decided to make the sacristy my next stop. Before I could knock, the door swung open and a tall guy in dark pants and a button-up shirt burst through with a light mist of sweat on his brow.

  “Can you help me?”

  His head moved side to side causing his hair to dance with his movement. “I’m sorry,” he spit out and disappeared before I could say any more. A flashback, déjà vu, or a distant memory from years ago hit me, and then it wisped away as a voice intruded upon my thoughts.

  “Hi, can I help you, miss?”

  Unlike the first guy, his face was kind and genuine. “Um, yes, if you’re Father Cernak.” I glanced back at the retreating figure. Something struck a chord, but I couldn’t quite place it.

  “I am.”

  I shook my head, bringing my attention back to Father Cernak. “One of the nuns asked for help carrying things in.”

  I felt sort of silly. I should have helped her myself. But when we found our way back outside, the extra pair of hands was needed for the amount of baked goods that needed to be brought in.

  “Oh, Sister Grace, I see you brought the food for the soup kitchen,” Father Cernak said.

  “Yes, and the bakery gave us so much more than I anticipated.”

  Father Cernak turned to me and said, “We run a soup kitchen here on the first Saturday of every month for lunch. This is our day and Sister here has picked up all the donations. Would you mind helping us carry this into our cafeteria?”

  “Not at all.”

  “And I didn’t catch your name,” he said.

  “Oh, I’m Haven Richardson. I went to school here at Holy Cross.”

  His face lit up. “How wonderful. Do you live around here then?”

  “No, I’m here temporarily for a gallery showing of my art work. But I came to pay my aunt a visit.” I explained who Aunt Kathy was.

  “Oh, I know Kathy. She’s a wonderful parishioner,” he said with such a kind smile.

  “Yes, I’m sure.” I returned his grin.

  “So, your aunt wasn’t home at this hour?”

  “The truth is, after I came all this way, I became a little nostalgic and decided to pay a visit to the church first, and then light a vigil candle for my mom. She died when I was only eleven and was a parishioner here.” My deflection served its purpose.

  “Oh, I’m very sorry.” His frown felt kind and not pitying, and his voice carried deep sincerity. “You must’ve been devastated.”

  “Yes. I still miss her very much.”

  Father Cernak stopped walking and touched my arm. “Haven, that’s not something a young child easily dispenses. I’m sure it still touches you. If you ever feel the need to talk, I’d be happy to listen.”

  I liked the man, which surprised me. I wasn’t usually endeared with anyone so easily. His warmth and kindness thawed my bitter heart with those few simple words, and to like someone was one step closer to trusting them. And trust was a rare thing for me.

  “Thank you, Father. I’ll keep that in mind.”

  We walked toward the cafeteria again. It took us a couple of trips to get all the donated food inside, but when we were finished, Father Cernak and Sister Grace thanked me profusely.

  Waving away their unnecessary gratitude, I said, “It was nothing, really.”

  “Haven, will you join us for Mass sometime while you’re here?” Father Cernak asked.

  The question caught me off guard because I hadn’t attended Mass in years. He read the hesitation in my expression.

  “Don’t feel pressured, but I thought if you were here, you might want to pay a visit with your aunt.”

  The pause lasted too long, and I blurted out the words, “Oh, I don’t know.”

  He was thoughtful when he said, “Can I ask you something?”

  I knew he was going to dig a little deep. But how could I have refused a question from him?

  “Sure.”

  “Do you still go to church? And it’s okay if you don’t.”

  I stared at my shoes when I answered, “Not really.”

  He didn’t chastise me, or condemn me to the fires of Hell, like I thought he might.

  He only said, “Many people have their reasons for walking away from the church, and I suspect you have yours. You may find that as you get older your ideas change, so I hope you don’t walk away from it forever. But I would also add that one should never be forced or pressured into going to church. Maybe while you’re in town, you’ll visit us here for our Saturday evening service. Just remember something, Haven—God loves everyone, no matter what.”

  I finally pulled my eyes away from my feet, which no longer held any interest for me, and glanced up at Father Cernak. His light brown eyes were compassionate and sincere, and for some reason, he made me stop and seriously consider coming back to attend Mass.

  Smiling, I said, “Maybe I’ll take you up on that, Father.”

  “I hope so. You have yourself a good day, Haven. And thank you again for your help this morning.” He shook my hand and I walked away, feeling as though I had encountered a true man of God.

  As I walked toward the bus station, again I passed by my old house. My steps slowed and Mom’s voice came to me from years ago. Then I remembered running through the door, that awful day she died, and finding Aunt Kathy and Uncle Kent there. Welcome to my new house of horrors. I picked up my pace and passed my old Hell. Uncle Kent’s car was there, so I just continued on to the bus stop. It would have to be another day that I visited my aunt.

  On the ride to Macie’s, my thoughts traveled back in time. The run-in with the guy with green eyes had me thinking about that day I’d come to church looking for help. Anger boiled as I thought about the inconsiderate but
beautiful boy who’d sent me packing. There was something about the guy who fled the room that reminded me of him. But that couldn’t be. There was no way he was a priest, so why would he be in the sacristy?

  When I returned to Macie’s, she was just getting up with her hair plastered to one side of her head.

  She yawned before she spoke. “You went all that way for nothing?”

  “No,” I said absently. I was thoughtful for a second “Not for nothing. I met a priest who might have returned my faith in mankind.”

  “Really?”

  “No,” I said, laughing, “but he was easy to talk to.”

  “The new guy?”

  “New guy?”

  “Holy Cross has a new priest because Father O’Brien died. That’s what my mom said.”

  “Father O’Brien died?” I remembered him. He’d been the one I’d wanted to reach out to. My mother thought so highly of him. And he’d come to visit her a couple of times when she was so sick and couldn’t go to Mass.

  “Yeah, he like tripped and fell or something. Had a heart attack.” She waved the thought aside and moved to the coffee maker.

  “Well, I met Father Cernak. Is he new?”

  “No, he’s been there a while.”

  “He’s was really nice,” I said. “I don’t know, Macie, but I might go to Mass. And you know me, I’m not a church person at all.”

  “Yeah, everyone loves him. He’s been great, I think. But I don’t pay too much attention when Mom talks about it. I haven’t attended Mass since probably last Christmas, or was it New Year’s? But they just got a new priest to help Father Cernak after Father O’Brien died. But I can’t remember his name.”

  “No rumors about him?”

  “None that I’ve heard. Why?”

  “While I was there, I ran into this guy. He could be the new priest. He left in such a hurry, I can’t be sure. But he reminded me of that asshole, Canaan, who told me to scram that time I went to the church to get help.”

  “Have.” She placed a hand on mine. “I haven’t heard anything. And if the new priest used to go to school with us, that would be like big news Mom would have shared with me.”