Page 36 of Gay for Pray
“I think so,” he says, “but I… It was a lot.”
I chance a step closer. He doesn’t run, but tension stiffens his posture. I scoop up one hand in mine.
“I get that,” I say. “I’m not asking you to figure it all out in one night. I hope you had a good time at least?”
A shy smile flits across his mouth, and God, how I want to kiss that bashful expression.
“Lying is a sin,” I tease, “so you better be honest.”
His lips twist like he wants to laugh. “Yeah,” he says. “I had a good time. It’s just, you know…”
He waves vaguely at my window, encompassing the university and the world outside it, a world where he’s a deacon’s son, a world where he’s supposed to be here studying to become a priest. I don’t know how he’s going to reconcile that with what we did, and I’m terrified to find out.
I squeeze his hand more to reassure myself than him, but I try to sound strong and steady. “I’m here if you want to talk. I’m not exactly a priest in a confessional booth, but I’ll listen.”
“Thanks. I think I just…” He shakes his head at himself. “I don’t want to hurt you, Jude, but this is a lot for me. I’m glad I came here, but I’m also…”
“Scared?”
He nods minutely, looking down at his feet, and my heart breaks over and over. I want to gather him up in my arms and heal whatever has made him feel so bad about something heclearly wants, but I hold myself back, terrified of pushing things when he’s so fragile.
“I’m gonna head home,” he says. “I need to study. Normally I would have had more time on Friday, but…”
But he chose to come here. He chose to spend his night with me, and as incredible as it was, his “real” life is calling him. Because I’m not real. This isn’t real. It’s a diversion he’ll find a way to brush off some day. Probably some day soon.
He bends down to kiss me, tender and slow, savoring me like he’ll never get another chance, and my broken heart cuts open my chest at the thought that he might be right. When he pulls away, I almost beg him to stay, but that would be beyond pathetic. Somehow, I gather my dignity and walk him to the door, seeing him out with a smile.
The moment he’s gone, I spin and fall heavily against the door, slapping my hands over my mouth to stifle a sob so he can’t hear it out in the hall. This was the best night of my life, but I knew the morning would be different, and I was right. I’ve finally found a guy, just like I said I wanted, but nothing has really changed if that guy can’t bear to look at himself in a mirror after being with me. I’m Theodore’s dirty secret, and I’ll probably never be anything more.
When Theodore looks back on this from his coveted priesthood, I’ll simply be a sin he can’t erase.
Chapter Twenty
Theodore
I SPEND THE REST of the weekend studying. It goes a lot slower than usual with my mind constantly drifting back to Jude and everything we did. No matter how hard I try to focus on essays and reading assignments, eventually my thoughts wander to his hands on my body, to touching him in return, to the taste lingering in my mouth.
It leaves me tossing and turning every night. I arrive to class exhausted and haggard on Monday, despite only staying out late on Friday. My body heats the second I spot Jude in the back of the room, but I try to ignore him and get to my own seat. I know it’s messed up, but what do I do with all of this? Part of me wants more of him so badly I could scream, so badly I can’t think or sleep or eat, but another part of me remembers that my path is taking me to the seminary, and I’ve already accumulated sins I can’t wash off.
By the end of Monday’s philosophy class, I’ve taken so few notes and spent so much time agonizing over my choices that I don’t even know what Professor Demsky lectured us on. I book it out of there, hurrying back to my room before Jude has time to catch up to me. I know I’m being a complete jerk by ignoring him like this, but it’s the only way to keep the war going on in my head from annihilating me.
It feels so good to be with him. It feels so natural and right. I initiated a lot of this, following the urging of somethinginside me that I couldn’t deny. But my brain knows it’s wrong. If someone ever found out, it could derail my entire life plan. Would they even let me into seminary school with something like this hanging over me? As much as this feels good and fun right now, Jude isn’t my future; the priesthood is. I’ve yet to find a way to reconcile that with the desire that takes over every time I’m near him.
I spend another whole day agonizing, and wake up on Tuesday even more tired and no more sure of what I should do. There has to be an answer, but I can’t find a path that doesn’t either hurt Jude or destroy everything I’ve worked for my entire life.
I’m sitting on a bench in a secluded part of campus staring at nothing and letting my thoughts churn when my phone rings. My heart drops when I check the screen.
“Hey, Dad,” I answer.
“Theodore, good to hear from you.”
I cringe at the implication behind the seemingly friendly greeting, the implication that I should have been calling and checking in at least once a week. I kind of lost track of that when this whole identity crisis landed in my lap.
“How has school been going?” my mother chimes in.
They must be on speakerphone, so I pick my words carefully in case they’re at church.
“Fine,” I say.
