Chapter 36 - Synoptic

 

Chapter 36. Synoptic

Father Cullen

I'm like a child late for class as I slip into the procession line for Mass.

Hurried steps. Smoothing clothes. Nerves unsettled.

It reminds me of when I first started at St. Vincents. The look Jasper's giving me clinches the deal.

He eyes the top of my head with a raised eyebrow.

Christ. Apparently I managed to get a shower and brush my teeth this morning, even dress properly, but forgot to do something with my damn hair.

I try to smooth it down. Jasper smirks then looks away and shakes his head. He takes a deep breath in and lets it out, like he's practicing patience. It seems like he's been doing that since I met him, but I'm not willing to dwell on it. Not now.

Mass is starting.

Bella is on my mind as we walk down the aisle, and I talk silently, with God.

I thank him for today's readings. They were serendipitous.

I didn't have much time to prepare. The past few days have been so filled up with just the two of us, I forgot to write a homily.

After I left Bella's this morning, ideas came to me in seconds. At church, I may as well have been writing about my own life. The words spilled out of me. I couldn't write fast enough to keep up with my thoughts. I settled for half written ideas and references to passages I couldn't forget if I tried.

As I stand on the pulpit, I notice the sanctuary is pretty full, but the only person I'm interested in seeing isn't here. Bella's absence makes my heart sink.

It's not like I have the right to expect her to be here. I know that. I'd hoped though, earlier, as I watched her sleep, watched her breathe. As I placed my hand against her chest so I could feel her heartbeat in sync with mine, as I realized it was time to leave.

I started to write her a note but words on paper felt flat compared to last night.

Still, I thought maybe she'd want to come. Maybe she'd want to say goodbye even though I have no idea how I'd bring myself to say those words.

At the altar, I greet the congregation and I wonder where Bella is. I remember the way it felt to be completely unhinged and completely whole, buried deep inside her.

The way her eyes told me she felt the same.

I recite the Penitential Act with the congregation, and I contemplate whether she might have gotten an earlier flight.

As the entire church sings Glory to God, all I can think about is how Bella sang to me.

On her balcony. On stage. In bed.

The way her voice called out my name when I was inside her.

When it's time to sit, I close my eyes as a deacon recites the first reading of the day.

I pray wherever Bella is, that she's all right. That God keeps her safe. That she continues to have silent talks with Him on her own terms.

Thank you Lord for the beauty of Your creation. But more specifically, thank you for Bella.

There's more singing. More praying. More chanting back and forth.

Normally I would embrace the collective energy in the sanctuary. This morning it all feels very mechanical.

As the second reading begins, I try to think of other people to pray for, but it all comes back to Bella. I wonder when I'll see her again, then I fight the urge to pull my cell phone out and text her right here and now. Tell her to come back. Beg her to stay.

But that wouldn't be fair.

She has her entire life to live, her entire career in front of her. Sheepshead Bay is too small for such a big heart with so much to offer the rest of the world.

I try harder to find something else to think about. Pray about.

Soul of Christ, sanctify me.

Body of Christ, save me.

Blood of Christ, inebriate me-

Jasper nudges my arm and pulls me out of my mind. I open my eyes and, like an answer to my prayer, she's there. Front row. Right side. Five in.

Bella.

My entire body relaxes for the first time since I arrived at St. Mary's.

"She didn't leave," I mutter.

"Father?" Jasper nods toward the pulpit.

Right. I have a congregation to lead.

My congregation.

But is it still? After everything?

On my way to the pulpit, I try to remember to breathe. It's hard to do when the woman who takes my breath away is sitting less than ten feet in front of me.

The woman I discovered something new about myself with.

The woman I broke my vows with.

The woman I'd like to do it again with. Over and over and over.

Her eyes are on me. Lit with fire.

I glance around at my parishioners then look at the Swans specifically. Most of them have an idea how their priest feels about their daughter, sister… friend.

I peek down at my notes and laugh because really, I have no fucking idea what I'm talking about.

I thought I did, but that was before her smile, our kiss. Sex.

My attention is pulled to Bella. Again.

Then her tattoo.

I remember the first time I saw it, the first time I met her. She was so agitated, here practically against her will. Today I know about the rest of her tattoos. And the way she's looking at me makes me think maybe she couldn't stay away.

A few people cough.

I'm fucking this up. I've forgotten my homily all together. Not that it's surprising. I'm too busy thinking about Bella to concentrate on anything else.

Is there anything? she asked me last night.

And when I asked if we could keep it between us, she didn't hesitate.

I promise.

And it all comes flooding back.

A flash of skin.

Like promises made to men much holier than I. Promises to God.

My mouth on hers.

I can't even recall what those promises were now.

Hands, teasing.

I can only remember her. And me.

Eyes, lips, jaw, neck.

Last night. A whisper. A secret. Just between us. And God.

No. Not God. Not last night. That was just for us.

I close my eyes for a moment longer.

Breasts.

Legs.

Heat.

I blink them open again.

Fire.

I see the looks on everyone's faces - waiting, wondering, suspecting.

Fuck.

I find a way to get through reading from the Gospel of Luke. I read about building a tower. Laying foundation. Finishing what we start.

It makes me think of Bella and how we've just gotten started.

When I'm done, she's staring up at me without an ounce of shame in her expression. Nothing else matters anymore.

Just her. And me. Here. One last time.

"That first reading today was something wasn't it?" I ask her. She purses her lips together like she's trying to stop herself from answering me.

"Who can know the council of God?" I ask the rest of the congregation. My voice is quiet, strained. I look down at my notes. I clear my throat. I swallow. I shake my head.

"I sure as hell can't." I laugh but stop pretty quickly. I breathe in and let it out slow.

Here we go.

"The thoughts of mortal men are fearful, and our counsel is... uncertain, to say the least."

I let the words hang out there.

Two weeks ago, Bella came to my Mass for the first time. My homily was for her.

Last week, it was for Renee.

These words, though… these words are for everyone. Even me. Even God.

I grip the sides of the podium.

"Jeremiah six tells us to stand by the roads, and look, and ask for the ancient paths, where the good way is."

The good way. Every time I've asked for God to show me the path over the past couple of weeks, I've felt ignored.

"He tells us to walk in it, and find rest for our souls."

I begged Him.

"But there's always that one guy, right?" I smirk a little. It feels half-hearted. "The one that's just not gonna walk where he's supposed to?"

Then it hits me. I thought He wasn't answering me, but He was. He did. Over and over and over again.

"Any hikers here today?" About four parishioners raise their hands. Awesome. "Right. I forgot. This is Sheepshead Bay." People laugh.

"Okay, maybe there's a rolling black out." There's more laughter. People nod their heads.

"Ever lose your flashlight? Or forget where you put it? Maybe the batteries died? What happens when you don't have that light to guide your way?"

Angela's staring up at me like she's hearing me for the first time. Ever.

"It seems pretty hard to see what you're doing, right?" I ask her. "And where you're going. I mean, you've got no light. How are you supposed to know where to go?"

Her eyes start to well up. Rose grabs her hand. I look away.

"But even without light," I say to the rest of the people sitting here, "You've still got common sense and experience, right?"

I meet Bella's eyes. "The only thing left to do is follow your gut."

I don't look away this time. "It might take a little longer, you might end up somewhere you hadn't expected. That doesn't mean you shouldn't be there."

Bella blushes and looks down at her lap.

Fuck.

I look at her and lose track of what I'm saying. So I find a random person to concentrate on and try not to give myself away.

"Stop trying to ignore the path God is laying out for you." I pick another person. "It may not look like the path you envisioned in your head." Someone else. "It might not lead where you thought it would go yesterday, two weeks, a month. A year ago…. " Anyone but Bella. "But God's will, much like our relationship with Him…"

Then I can't keep my eyes away from her anymore. "Is fluid."

Nor do I want to.

Bella looks like she's holding her breath. Like maybe she wants to leave.

God, don't let her leave.

"We need to trust that He knows what He's doing. That maybe we know what we're doing too."

The thoughts I had while writing today's homily come back to me suddenly - about my life - and I find myself thinking about the Gospel of Luke. About building a tower.

Have I finished mine?

Meeting Jasper created a solid foundation. Teaching God's word gave me strong walls. I used to think they were protecting me. Now I think maybe I've just been hiding behind them.

Am I really following God's path? Or just the one I assumed he wanted me to take?

I never would have met Bella if I hadn't been sent to St. Mary's or become a priest, or met Jasper, or if my parents hadn't decided to drink and drive one night a long time ago.

Christ. All these years I've been living my life under the presumption my tower was done, but the truth is, it's only been half built.

Bella is the other half.

That feeling of utter joy when I'm with her bubbles up inside me suddenly. Overwhelmingly. I look directly at her. She feels it too. I see it, right there, in her eyes. In the way she's trying really hard not to smile. The way she looks at me with love.

"You're my-" I start to tell her but fuck. I can't just blurt something like this out in the middle of my homily. Right?

So I look out at all the people that have been coming to me for guidance over the past year. I know I shouldn't, that it'd be completely inappropriate, but I take a deep breath, and I go off script.

"Listen, I can read from the gospel all day." I step out from behind the pulpit. "I can tell you what God means when he says this or that." I wave a hand.

As I look around, I notice a few confused stares.

"I can absolve you of any sin," I tell them. "As long as you meet me in that dark, dank box back there." I nod to the back of the sanctuary.

Jesus, even I hear the sarcasm in my voice.

I laugh. Bella hides her face in her hands, but I can tell she's laughing too. Much like the rest of the church.

"The truth of the matter is." I spread my hands. "It doesn't matter what I say or do."

I hear a couple of gasps. Renee looks especially horrified. Charlie sits on the edge of his seat, like he's eager to see where I'm going with this.

Bella's brow knits like she's worried where I'm going with this.

"In the end, you're the one that knows where you stand with God. You're the one that gets to decide what your relationship looks like."

And I get to decide what mine looks like.

"You wanna go to church every time those doors are open?" I motion toward the back of the room. "Go for it."

I wave another hand, well aware of the fact I might look like a madman while I'm doing it. "Wanna stay home every once in a while? Sleep off a bender? Have at it."

For a moment, I stop moving altogether. "And if you want to pursue something completely off the rails, out of character, that breaks the rules, but makes your heart absolutely full…" My hand moves to my chest. Over my heart. Over my vows.

I look into Bella's eyes. "Then by all fucking means… do it."

Mouths hang open. People look uncomfortable. I can almost hear a few of the deacons' thoughts as they exchange looks.

I really don't give a shit.

Fuck is back on the table and it's staying there.

"Bottom line is," I tell them all, "There is no wrong way to love God. And He will always love you."

The church is so quiet it's unnerving. I'm not sure what to make of it and from the looks on everyone's faces, they're not so sure either. I somehow manage to make my way back to my seat. I don't make eye contact with Jasper, but I feel his eyes on me nonetheless.

Hell, I feel everyone's eyes on me.

Especially Bella's.

Throughout the remainder of Mass, I find myself glancing at her. Checking in. Seeing if I can guess what's going on inside her mind.

I catch her looking up at me a few times. Something feels different. She seems distant, sad.

I wish I could ask her anything right now.

I hope for a long life, full of asking her anything.

Then, as she starts to avoid eye contact altogether, I worry I may never get to ask her anything again.

The organ starts to play the hymn for communion and Bella's eyes go wide. She glances directly at me, then goes very still.

I'm not sure what-

The fuck.

When the choir joins in, I understand.

And goosebumps spread.

This version of Adore te devote is sung very differently than how Bella sings it. Today the words are reverential, devotional. But as Bella stares at me, they're perfect.

Members start to stand, and I remember the first time I heard her singing this hymn.

A line forms for communion as I watch Bella, still seated. I think about the night she sang for me. For us. How perfectly connected we were.

Are.

She stays in her seat and offers to take Patrick for Rose. Bella holds onto her nephew like her life depends on it. Never looking up, looking only at him, like they're having a private conversation.

Once Rose returns, I expect Bella to hand over the baby so she can get in line.

She doesn't.

She's still not in line when our hymn comes to an end.

The altar boy turns to leave with the paten, but I stop him. Then take one last wafer for one last parishioner.

The entire church seems to go still. There are some curious eyes. Okay, a lot. I don't give a fuck. Jasper glares, his brow dipping, like he's confused and annoyed. But I'm not interested in what he might think. He knows I'm unorthodox, especially when it comes to this particular parishioner.

This particular woman.

I walk over to Bella slowly, intentionally. Patrick is still happy in her arms. When she looks up, she doesn't seem to understand why I'm standing in front of her. Not until I hold the wafer out and say the words.

"The body of Christ."

Then she knows. This isn't about communion or absolving ourselves from anything we've done.

It's about how I see her. Her family sees her. God sees her.

She is worthy.

She is funny, smart, loyal. She is gorgeous, she is fearless and true, open and honest. She is talented, she is imperfectly perfect.

And she is fucking loved. By her friends. By her family. By me. With every fiber of my being.

Her eyes are glued to mine as her breath catches and her chin quivers. She glances to her family, sitting beside her, all of whom finally know her for the amazing person she is. Then she looks back up to me. Her eyes are glassy. She shakes her head just slightly as she bites down on her bottom lip. But I'm not leaving her. Not a chance in Hell.

And then finally, after what feels like an eternity, she parts her lips and I place the wafer on her tongue, hoping my eyes convey what's in my heart.

She closes her eyes as she closes her mouth.

Reverently, she whispers.

"Amen."