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"And if you knew him you would understand just why..."

After Father Chris finished relating the details of the incident in his car with Andy, Thad sat silent, saying nothing as he mulled over the matter carefully, having to look at it from a detective's viewpoint, all the while trying to divorce himself from his friendship with Chris. In the past, in the times the two of them had conversed, Chris usually had the upper hand, since Thad was always the one to confess. Though he attempted to shut down the thought as he'd listened to Chris, a joke he'd heard inserted itself into Thad's mind but he dismissed it immediately, though not denying its basic truth: Months ago when the Catholic Church was in the hot seat about its priests molesting altar boys, one of the late night comics quipped to his audience, "I went to confession last week, but as soon as the priest sat down, I looked at him and said, 'You first, Father!'"

Thad's ties to the church were not all that strong, but he respected Chris and followed the Catholic doctrines, at least as much, he thought, as any other American Catholic of the 21st century. Anyone with any common sense would know that most Catholics must use some form of birth control; otherwise every Catholic woman would find herself pregnant every nine months until menopause. And all Catholic men would have to masturbate every night before going to bed with their wives...and since the Catholic Church condemned masturbation as well, most Catholic men would wind up with a perpetual case of what's come to be called 'blue balls.' Adding to Thad's skepticism about American Catholics obeying the Vatican's rules, Thad had always been convinced that priests must indulge in some kind of sexual activity on a regular oasis. Priests were human too, after all.

On top of that, whether it was true or not, Thad had read somewhere that a lack of orgasms could induce testicular cancer. It wasn't the place of a church member to question his confessor's private--or lack of private--life. It was the priest's job to make sure his members didn't stray into sin...and as part of Thad's mind listened as Chris was relating Andy's declaration of love to him in the car, the rest of Thad's mind raced. Could Father Chris be like one of those priests I've read about? Had Father Chris encouraged Andy, consciously or not, to feel as he did.'

That Chris was upset was plain to see. Thad also knew he was the only one to whom Chris could reveal this without it resulting in a scandal, or worse. Chris was a good-looking young man, only eight years older than Andy, and just three years younger than Thad. Without his clerical collar and vocation, Chris would make someone a fine husband or lover, Thad thought, as Chris had continued with his details of Andy's disappearance.

Could I desire some kind of intimacy with this man, my priest if it was possible? Thad asked himself, only to hear his libido responding with an emphatic, Damned right, I could! If things weren't as they are, I could fall in love with Chris in an instant! I know damned well he'd be great in bed!

"...and as soon as I found time this afternoon, I rushed here to see you," Chris said, finishing his story.

"You do know, of course, that Andy can't be officially described as missing until after twenty-four hours? It's police policy."

"Yes, but I've never understood that," Chris replied. "By the end of twenty-four hours, a missing person could be as far away as Europe or Asia!"

"I doubt he'd go that far..." Thad reassured Chris. "Officially, I'm having a sick day from work. In spite of my being gay...and the whole department knows it, gay men are not allowed to have time off for mourning. Hell, if Alex had been my wife, I could've taken off a month, but as you know, gays have to lie to be afforded the same privileges as heteros."

"I understand the state of Connecticut has changed that ruling," Chris replied.

"That's another thing that makes it so ironic. I don't know the actual statistics, Father, but I'd be willing to bet a month's salary that there are more gay men in the south than in any other part of the United States. Granted, I was born and raised in Jersey, but southern men are more compassionate. They're more prone to feel emotion toward other people, and they're not afraid to show it. Whether they're gay or not, most southern men openly display more affection or emotion toward other men, especially their best friends."

"I suppose that's one of the reasons I'm glad I was posted to a southern church. I shouldn't say this, but southern Catholic men do confess tons more sins than northern Catholics."

"I know you're right...a southerner never knows when to shut up. He just keeps on talking. It's hard as hell for a southerner to keep a secret. It's twice as easy for me to get a suspect here to confess to a crime, then it would be a guy from Jersey or New York!" Chris smiled at Thad's evaluation of southern men, then Thad added, "Sorry, I got off on another subject, but let's get back to Andy...I'm expecting David to come by to get the gear he left with me, and as soon as he does, I'll go driving around the city and do some private police investigation. Somebody, somewhere must have seen Andy. Do you know if he has any money or a credit card?"

"I'm sure he doesn't. He was unconscious when the paramedics took him to the hospital last night. I'm not sure if he was wearing his street clothes or pajamas at the time, but those were all he'd have had to put on when he disappeared. Also, I can't see Todd or Marcia letting Andy have his own credit card. He actually has no need for one since they buy everything Andy needs."

"Then I sincerely doubt that he's bought a bus or plane ticket to get out of the city. Of course, he could always hitch a ride on I-75, but where would he go and what would he do when he got there?"

"I agree with you, Thad. That's why I think he's still here in Atlanta somewhere."

"You don't think he'll try to contact you?"

"No. He couldn't even look at me in the hospital."

"What about Jeff and Tommy, the two that work with him on your food route?"

"It's possible, but a suicide attempt isn't something he would want to advertise to his friends." Chris looked at Thad and spoke quietly, "Thad, can I ask you something very personal?"

"Hell, why not?....you're my priest. You know all my secrets."

"I've been sitting here since we've been talking, admiring the way you've decorated your apartment since yesterday. It's unbelievably beautiful...and must have set you back a pretty penny."

"I paid cash."

"I've been wondering why you did it, and so quickly?"

"I...I just thought it was time I started living in the twenty-first century. What did you want to ask me that's so personal?"

"I just wondered if...if David's visit in any way prompted you to redecorate?"

"David? Good Lord, Chris, why would you think that?"

"I know that you're gay. I also know how much you thought of Mark before you met Alex...and David really is the spitting image of his brother..."

"All right, Chris. You know that David and I shared a bed night before last.....are you trying to ask if the two of us had sex?"

"Not really...I mean, if you did, I can only assume that you'll tell me about it in confession."

"Well, you won't have to wait to find out...the answer is 'no'. We did not have sex!" Thad paused before reluctantly adding, "I...I did kiss him though...!"

"My intuition told me something had happened. Can I ask how David reacted? I mean did he get angry or try to hit you? Did the kiss scare him? Is that the reason he didn't spend the night here last night?"

"I suspect that's what happened...although he didn't fight the kiss. Maybe he was tired and exhausted, or just lonely; but he didn't seem to mind the kiss. It was almost as if he wanted me...or someone...to hold him..."

"That's understandable, just as I knew you wanted someone to hold you at the hospital when you learned about Alex."

"I suppose I should've thanked you for that. I was always so glad that you were there for Alex and for me."

"It was my duty to comfort you as your friend as well as your priest. There are times in everyone's life when he just needs someone to hold him for a minute...no matter what age or sex."

"What about you, Chris? Who holds you when you need to be held?"

"Actually, no one. I'm supposed to be strong and, when I need someone, I must turn to the Lord."

"But you don't really feel the Lord's arms around you, do you? I mean actually feel His physical arms?"

"Thad, I feel all that I'm supposed to feel..."

"Well, how about at the end of the day...when I and all your flock have driven you insane with our problems, and you're carrying all the weight of our problems on your shoulders...then you go to bed...and you just pray?"

"Yes..."

"Don't you ever wish there was someone in your bed...someone human to put his arms around you and give you comfort?"

"I won't answer that, Thad...because if I did...I'd probably lie, and my vocation won't allow me to lie..."

"But your vocation won't allow you to feel either, will it?"

"I took a vow not to feel...not emotional things anyway."

"Chris, take my hand..." Thad extended his hand toward Chris.

"What?"

"Please, just take my hand..."

"All right..."

He took Thad's hand as he would a handshake, but Thad turned their clasped hands, placing his on top of Chris'.

"Now tell me what you feel?" Thad asked, in a quiet voice.

"I...I feel a friend reaching out for me..."

"I don't mean to blaspheme against the Holy Eucharist...but my hand is more than a wafer and a sip of wine. Concentrate, Chris...feel my flesh. It's real flesh. Feel the sweat in my palm. Try to feel the blood running through my fingers and rushing to my heart and almost instantly coming back to my hand, real red blood, not a euphemism."

"I...I don't..."

"Don't you see, Chris? You're so concerned about my soul, but I'm not sure either you or I could even define what a soul is...something mystical in the afterlife...something intangible that can't be seen, heard, or felt...something that may or may not exist and I don't think the Almighty's divine purpose when he created man was to focus only on something that can't be seen or touched. We were created with five senses, and if we don't use them, we might as well blindfold ourselves and rap rubber tires around our waists like the Michelin man so that we can't get close enough to get to know one another. I don't mean to offend you, Chris, but often, that's my conception of priests, or others who don't experience real life...real flesh and blood."

"Why are you saying these things, Thad?"

"It's just that the other night at the hospital when I broke down and cried, I suddenly felt your arms around me. I felt something, and since that time, I kept wondering if you felt something. I mean, aren't priests human beings?.. with human wants and needs? I've never understood how any priest could live sixty or seventy years denying his human attributes. Sure, I've told you in the confessional that sometimes I feel I might die of loneliness, if I don't pick up a guy for the night, or only for a few hours, just to hold someone in the dark...even if I don't know him...but my human desires have to feel satisfied. Surely to God, you must have these same wants and needs? How can you go through life without them? I mean, hell! Sometimes I don't blame priests who reach the brink of desire and have to step out of their so-called 'holiness' and secretly become human with another man, or a woman!"

"Thad, it's all part of our religious training. In seminary, we spend hundreds of hours in private meditation, sometimes lying prostrate on the floor learning to resist the temptations of the flesh and its passionate desires. After a while, we become conditioned, and learn to raise our thoughts above worldly pleasures and to focus on God and what He expects from us."

"Then is being a priest devoiding yourself of being human? How can you understand human needs and despair, if you are incapable of experiencing them yourself?"

"Thad, I wasn't always a priest. I...I guess I sowed my wild oats as a teen often enough to understand most of the problems of those who ask me for help."

"Can you honestly say, with your hand in mine, that you feel nothing more than a mere handshake?"

"Honestly, I can't...I can hold your hand and feel a good friend with me, but I won't allow myself to feel more than that."

"Chris, don't you ever get the urge to shuck all your religion and go out and get a real life?"

"Thad, my life with the Lord is very real, and it's all I need since I chose to become a priest. But why is this so important to you? My life and my needs?"

"A while ago, you mentioned that your intuition told you I was interested in David. What if I told you that my detective's intuition told me the same thing about you?"

"That I had an interest in David, the same kind that you did?"

"Exactly."

"Then I say you'd better go to the target range and sharpen your intuitive skills just as you practice your shooting skill." The sudden silence became palpable.

"I'm sorry, Chris, I guess I went a little too far..."

"Thad, it doesn't take an MRI or a CT scan to see that you're Jealous, but believe me, you have no reason to be jealous of my interest in David. To me, he's the grieving brother of a dear departed young friend, and that's all."

"Oh, I knew you weren't pursuing David as anything more than that. It's just that...there's something about David that I…I can't put into words. As long as I'm confessing outside the booth, I might as well tell you that...yes, I'm strongly attracted to him, and at a time when I know I should be grieving for Alex..."

"And, Thad, you also should know that you're quixotic, if you think David could become gay in a matter of two days. But I don't think I've ever seen you being so aggressive, feeling this strongly toward anyone."

"The only way I can explain it would give a psychologist fodder for a thesis. It's as if I'm getting a second chance with Mark...where my first attempt failed, I keep looking into David's eyes and I see Mark....and I know that's insane."

"No scholar ever wrote that there is anything sane about falling in love. Love is the one emotion that defies reason, and can make anyone look, act, and feel foolish and do all kinds of things he would never do otherwise."

"Chris, were you ever in love before you..."

Chris' soft smile stopped Thad's words. "Many times, Thad...and I was just as insane as anyone else who's ever been in love."

"...and not since you became a priest?"

He shook his head. "My vows don't permit it."

"Then pardon my saying this, but you must get lonely..."

"That's something no one need ever know," Chris sighed. "And now I should go before David gets here. But if you see or hear anything about Andy, please call his parents...and me?"

"I will..."

Chris got up to leave and headed toward the door. "And, Thad...about your new place...?"

"Yes?"

"Would you like me to come by and bless it?"

"That would be great!"

"When David arrives, if you two want to meet with me to discuss a possible duo service for Alex and Mark give me a call...the sooner the better."

"I will." Chris opened the door. "Just one more thing before you go..."

"What is it?"

"I could sure use another big hug like the one you gave me in the hospital parking lot."

Chris opened his arms..."Sure..."

Thad walked to Chris and the two embraced...only for some reason, this hug was different than the one before. Chris' grip was tighter than Thad's ever had been.

"I guess we all need a hug every now and then," Chris said before letting go of Thad and turning to go.

Thad watched Chris walk down the stairs and go out the door to his car, all the while thinking to himself, I would love to yank that clerical collar off and see how he would hug me then....

* * *

Needless to say, when Chris left Thad, he was a bit emotionally shaken by his conversation with Thad. Several of Thad's remarks had hit a little too close to home with Chris. He wasn't used to being on the defensive side when talking with a confesser; he always played the role of the priest. Sure, Chris got lonely, and had been lonely ever since he took his vow of celibacy. For the first year or two at the seminary, he would often lie in bed sleepless, reliving encounters he had experienced with various male partners. He missed sex and he missed having someone beside him in bed...not always needing someone to hold, but just feeling his being warmed by another body next to him...being able to casually reach out in the dark and touch a leg, an elbow, another human being, or listening as his bed-partner breathed heavily in his sleep.

Chris hadn't minded giving up his worldly possessions when he was ordained. He had never been one to lavish gifts on himself, or to add to a collection of any kind, such as CDs, movies, or books. Never getting accustomed to going to fancy restaurants or dining on expensive foods, Chris had grown up in a simple lifestyle with simple wants and needs. Therefore, when it came time for him to divest himself of material goods, there was really nothing he missed...except sex. He did miss sex, and had almost chosen to leave the priesthood before taking the vow to become chaste. But he had stayed and honored his celibacy and had not had sex of any kind at any time, although solo masturbation still remained his biggest temptation. How many wet dreams could he have that weren't self-induced…not many. They all had to spring from his own thoughts.

As he arrived at the church, Lydia, the church secretary, was getting into her car to make a quick run to the post office. She stopped when she saw Chris and waited to speak to him.

"Good afternoon, Lydia," Chris spoke gently.

"Good afternoon, Father. I'm so glad I caught you before you went into the kitchen. Father 'D' wants to see you in his study."

"Oh?"

"Yes. When I didn't see you in the kitchen, I left you a note asking you to see him as soon as you came in."

"Thanks."

"Mr. and Mrs. Thompson are with him."

"Andy's parents?"

"Yes, sir."

"Has Andy been found?" Chris' voice rang with hope.

"I don't know, but I don't think so; Andy's not with them."

"Thanks, Lydia, I'll go on up right now."

Chris ran through the kitchen, out into the hall, and up the stairs leading to the study, which he shared with Father Dinsmore. Normally, Chris wouldn't have knocked on the door, but since Lydia had said that Father 'D' had guests, he thought it best not to invade their privacy, so he knocked lightly, and then opened the door enough to stick his head through the crack..."Father, sorry to interrupt but Lydia just told me you wanted to see me."

"Yes, Father," Father 'D' replied, "come in." Chris entered. "You know the Thompson's, I'm sure."

"Yes, of course...Todd, Marcia...I hope you're here to say that you've found Andy safe."

"No, Father Chris," Todd said. "We've still heard nothing."

"I...I just finished talking with a detective and he's going to start a search of his own."

"Thanks, Father, That's a good idea." Todd added.

"Father, sit down," Father 'D' said, "There are a few things I...and well, rather, the Thompson's and I would like to discuss with you."

"Certainly."

Father 'D' was not old, probably in his late 60's or early 70's. Chris had been his assistant for over two years and still really didn't know Father 'D' personally. Father 'D' never showed anyone his personality. He was always the priest and not the confesser. Chris couldn't recall ever hearing Father 'D' crack a joke, or discuss world or local news...not even news affecting the Church or the Vatican. The two priests had worked side by side, serving communion and ministering to the same congregation, but still neither knew anything about the other. They were friendly strangers, so to speak.

Taking the chair to the right of the big desk, Chris' eyes looked toward Todd and Marcia to see both were looking down, not at him. Then he noticed that Father 'D' was also avoiding eye contact with him, and suddenly Chris felt he was about to hear some bad news; or then again, it was almost as if he were in a 'hot seat'. There were several seconds of silence before Father 'D' decided to begin his important meeting.

"Father," Father 'D' began. Chris knew something was up because Father D never called him, 'Father' except during a church service, or during serious business discussions. "Since Mr. and Mrs. Thompson have heard nothing from their son, they took it upon themselves as his parents to invade his rivacy and go into his room to look for clues to help find his whereabouts."

"That's a good idea," Chris said, without being too enthusiastic.

"They...Mr. and Mrs. Thompson...while investigating his room and looking through Andy's personal items, came across a book in the form of a diary...Andy's diary..."

For the first time, Chris had an idea where this conversation was heading, but not how far. He felt a catch in his throat and his heart began to race slightly. Chris wanted to reply, but to say what?

"Father," Father 'D' continued, 'there is a great deal about you that Andy has written in his own handwriting."

"Oh, I...I hope he had good things to say...I mean, Andy and I have always had a good relationship here at the church, and especially on the morning and evening meal routes."

"Yes, he had a lot of nice things to say about you, some of them perhaps too nice, and Mr. and Mrs. Thompson wanted me to see if you could clarify some of Andy's entries."

"I'm not sure that I can...but I'll be happy to try..." Chris replied cautiously.

Father 'D' handed Chris a rather large leather volume and said, "Father, some of the entries that I've read are somewhat graphic in their descriptions, so perhaps you should read them to yourself rather than embarrassing Mr. and Mrs. Thompson."

Chris took the book and noticed that it was not an ordinary diary, but a five year diary; and as he opened it to the first written page, he noticed it was dated a little over two years ago.

"Should I read it from the beginning or is there some specific date you want to call to my attention?" Chris asked, trying to disguise the tremor in his voice.

"The beginning should be fine, and you can skip the pages to any of the others. They're almost the same as you seem to be the subject mentioned in nearly every entry," Father 'D' explained.

Chris' hands were trembling so much he could hardly make out Andy's wobbly handwriting. The first page read..."Dear Diary, In a week I'll be seventeen, and for eleven months I've been 'sweet sixteen and never been kissed', but maybe that will all change. I'm hoping that Father Chris will take me in his arms and French kiss me."

Chris felt sick to his stomach. He dared not look up to catch the eyes of Todd, Marcia, or Father 'D'. Chris knew they were watching him intensely. Yet he was more afraid of what he would read on the following pages. With his thumb, he flipped over several weeks and months and read, "Dear Diary: Tonight it happened as I always hoped it would. Chris (I know longer call him 'Father Chris' since he told me to call him by his first name when the two of us are alone)...he unzipped my pants and put his hand inside to feel my hardness. I thought I would faint with excitement, but I was more scared that I would cum all over his hand. Then he made me relax--he took my hand and placed it inside his pants, and I felt him for the very first time! His dick was larger than I imagined, but just touching him and him touching me let me know just how much he loved me and how we must be together when he gives up his priesthood."

Chris closed his eyes in disbelief and held his breath as he scanned forward once again. "Dear Diary: I know that Jeff and Tommy have sex every night, but Chris' and my relationship is deeper than theirs. Chris and I don't have sex, we make love and that's a huge difference. Last week when he fucked me for the first time, I wanted to scream from the pain, but when I did cry out, it was with joy. I'm his now...all his, and I'll belong to him the rest of our lives."

Chris could read no further. He had seen enough. How in God's holy name could Andy have fantasized so vividly, and then to put it all down in his own handwriting? What could Chris possibly say to Todd, Marcia, or Father 'D' to make them know that he was innocent? None of the things in the diary had ever happened or ever would--in this world or the next!

Chris slammed the book shut, making a loud noise. "This...none of this is true! None of this ever happened! I don't know how I can make you believe me. I'd really want to know why Andy wrote this. This is all a fiction !" Chris said as dropped the book on the desk.

Todd was the first to speak to Chris, "The diary begins when Andy was sixteen and still a minor. He's eighteen now and of consensual age, but that doesn't make it right...none of it."

"Todd, surely you're not accusing me of molesting Andy! I can't recall if I've ever even shaken his hand. I know I've never put my arm around him or hugged him, and the things he's written in his diary are preposterous!"

"Father Chris," Marcia interjected with a tear in her voice, "if we had only known...I mean, if Andy is gay...that's all right. If he wanted to have an affair with you, I'm sure we could have worked out some kind of private arrangement so that the two of you could be together..."

"Marcia, please stop! You're not listening! Andy and I did not have an affair! You call Jeff or Tommy and ask them if they ever saw anything out of the ordinary between Andy and me. I'm as close to them as I am to Andy. I treat them all the same."

"But then Tommy and Jeff are gay, aren't they?" Marcia asked.

"I don't know, Marcia. You'd have to ask them. If they ever said anything that that might suggest something along that line, it would come under a confessional seal, and I'd be bound to keep it secret...but I can, and will say this...I've never heard any kind of sex talk or discussion among Andy, Jeff, or Tommy in my presence. When the four of us go out on a meal run, we laugh, we sing, we tell jokes...clean jokes, but we never talk about sex...never!"

Father 'D' spoke for the first time since Chris read from the diary, "Father, speaking of the meal run, I think it would be best if you delivered the meals by yourself until we can get this matter cleared up...or rather until we can talk with Andy himself. If you think you can't handle the meals by yourself, then we'll have to discontinue the service until we can handle it more ably."

"But Father 'D', so many people depend on the service for their daily sustenance. They'd go hungry and perhaps get sick or sicker without the hot meal or two which we provide for them."

"Then I suggest you find a way to do it by yourself, or ask some of the ladies or older men of our congregation to assist you with the distribution. Is that clear?"

"Yes, sir..."

"Mr. and Mrs. Thompson, is there anything else you want to ask Father Chris...or maybe something you want to say to him?"

"Father! Todd! Marcia!" Chris screamed. "Why is no one listening to me? Why am I being convicted of something I didn't do?"

"Father," Todd said solemnly, "I think the diary speaks for itself. We've read Andy's side and we've heard your denial, but until we can get the two of you together, we won't know the truth..."

"But..."

"That will be all, Father!" Father 'D' said emphatically. "Mr. and Mrs. Thompson, I'm sorry all this happened and I...the Church will investigate and search for the truth; and you will be the first to know what we find out. I hope you find Andy quickly...hopefully before this evening is over. Please call and let me know if you do."

"Thanks, Father...we will." Todd said as he and Marcia got up to leave. Neither of the two looked at Chris or spoke to him as they left.

Chris' feelings of anger and hurt each equalized the other. He wanted to lash out at his accusers and at his superior. He'd love to put his fist through the nearest wall. Inside of ten minutes, he had experienced his own personal inquisition and felt he was now ready to be tarred, feathered, or hanged, whichever punishment his crime demanded.

"Father 'D'..."

"Whatever you have to say, Father, save it until later. If you intend to serve your evening meal, I suggest you call Tommy and Jeff to say you won't be needing their help, then if you want to go out by yourself, then do so. As for the truth...I think it would be a good idea if you made your confession to me later this evening."

"Anything I might have to confess...I've already said to you and to the

Thompson's."

"That's all, then, Chris. Please go..."

Feeling totally depressed and rejected, Chris walked down the stairs to the kitchen, kicking a stool next to the table as he passed. On the far wall was a crucifix almost three feet in height with the bleeding Christ hanging from it. Chris looked at the cross and, remembering Christ's words at the last supper, Chris whispered, "Father, if it be thy will, let this cup pass from me." Then he dropped to his knees and wept.

tbc...