Where the Devil Says Goodnight (Folk Lore 1)

“No. I don’t want to be a burden on you, but it hit me harder than I thought it could. I was over it, you know? This is just what you live with here. What’s it like in Warsaw? Will we be able to hold hands?”

It was obviously a request to change the topic. Adam met Emil’s gaze, which expressed so much hope any and all thoughts of setting him free in the big city, where he’d be safer and have access to other gay men, instantly went on the backburner.

Because it was clear Emil wanted to move for him, not the elusive possibility of maybe meeting someone. And in that moment, Adam wanted to promise him a grand future together, even if it were to involve secrecy due to Adam’s priesthood.

“There are homophobes out there too, but also lots of liberal people. Besides, most people won’t know you, so they don’t care. And even if we didn’t hold hands in the street, there are places where we could. Like this nice café owned by two lesbians. I’ll take you there, and I’ll sit right next to you.”

Emil stroked Adam’s thigh, hugging him closely as he lay next to Adam, accepting the comforting touch. “That sounds really nice.”

Adam nodded and rubbed some of the leftover dampness from Emil’s face. “Yes. And we should find a place somewhere with a lot of parks, so you feel less uprooted,” he said, even though he knew the change would still be a shock to Emil in the long run.

“You say that like I’m a wild animal.” Emil chuckled, rubbing his head against Adam’s chin, but Adam smiled and kissed the side of his temple, so completely at ease he might as well be a part of the rain tapping against the roof of the car.

“I suppose you are. But I don’t wanna tame you. I like you just the way you are,” he said with warmth in his heart.

Emil entwined their fingers. “How was it for you in Warsaw? I know you’re a priest, but you were a kid at some point too.”

Adam didn’t often return to these memories, but in this moment they didn’t seem all that painful.

“Easier. I was always focused on academic achievement, so I went to good schools. There were kids who thought it was perfectly okay to be gay, and there were those who disagreed, but there was none of the physical aggression we’ve seen today. Not around me. I suppose the problem was mostly in my head.” He swallowed. “You know, I was among the anti-gay crowd,” he whispered, shuddering in shame at the hypocrisy of his current life. He couldn’t condemn gay people only to wave the rainbow flag the next day, and this period of adjustment he was going through now left him shaky and uncertain for the future.

Emil nodded. “And your family is very religious.”

“There was a lot of ‘hate the sin, love the sinner’. Not so much from Dad, but Mom’s really conservative. I didn’t want to disappoint her, and when I realized that I didn’t like girls that way—“He let out a laugh and shook his head, trying to push away his true feelings, because he wouldn’t be able to talk about any of this otherwise.

“She still tells this anecdote during each family holiday. About me telling her I was going to marry my male friend from kindergarten. Everyone thinks it’s hilarious. I don’t remember it, but she apparently explained to me that boys marry girls. It really stuck with me.”

Emil rested more of his weight on Adam, and the pressure released some of the tension in Adam’s muscles, keeping him safe. Like a weighted blanket. “Did you ever have crushes on boys later?”

“I did,” Adam said softly, wondering if his heart beat loudly enough for Emil to hear it too. “I always told myself I liked them so much because I admired them. Then I got older, and everyone started finding out about sex, and that’s when I really understood there was something wrong with me. The kids would try to be so edgy and made jokes about gay sex, and I could just feel all that contempt toward me,” he whispered when his voice broke. “I prayed really hard, but God wouldn’t change me.

“I tried not to think about guys that way, but then I discovered masturbation, and my problem got even worse. I’d tell myself it was the last time every damn day, and then I’d do it again, and I would imagine all those things my classmates found so gross. At Church, I was always told God doesn’t magically help those who aren’t willing to put work into solving their problems, so when I found out about conditioning during class, it just hit me that it might work on me too. From then on, I’d pinch myself or give myself punishments if I did or thought about something I shouldn’t.