“Impure thoughts?” he asks groaning. I know it’s him. His voice is etched in memory. Jacob is hearing my confession and I can’t stop myself from spilling out the details. All of which pertain to him. I pretend that I don’t know it’s him. Another thing I’ll have to confess.
“Yes. I am in love with a man and I have no business being in love with him. I can’t stop thinking about him, about having sex with him, Father. Sex that shouldn’t be had by anyone let alone me. I can’t take it anymore… I need help. I tried to stop as I was told in my last confession, but it’s no use. I can’t stop. I touched myself too. It’s terrible, well that wasn’t terrible, but you know what I mean. What am I saying? You probably don’t know about that,” I say, babbling. I babble when I get nervous.
“You’ve touched yourself thinking about this man?” he asks. I nod even though he can’t see me.
“Every night for five weeks. I didn’t know I could get so wet,” I whisper without thinking. Something thuds to the floors oh his side, but I can’t stop telling him this. “Every night I put my hand down my panties and rub myself until I cry out his name into my pillow. The only sounds filling my room were my soft moans and the sloshing wetness as I rubbed. I am obsessed. Prayers aren’t working.” I am at my wit’s end. I am supposed to be above this, but when it comes to this man, I definitely am not.
“What name do you call out?” he asks, his voice deep. It sounds strange to me, strangled even.
“I can’t say that out loud, Father,” I say declining to answer this. I know I have crossed the line, but I can’t help it. I am a terrible, terrible person. I am trying to incite lust in this man, and I know it’s wrong, but I can’t help it.
“Beth, come to my office. We should further discuss this,” he says letting me know that he knows that it’s me. I hope he guides me through this but is it fair of me to ask him for his help?
“I need to do penance and receive absolution, Father.” I am afraid that I’ve flustered him or disgusted him to the point of him not being able to do his job.
“Your penance shall be thirty-two Hail Mary’s. Ego te absolvo, a peccatis tuis in nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti,” he says giving me the short version. He absolves me in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit.
“Thank you, Father.” I smile and recite the Act of Contrition, giving the sign of the cross again.
“Give thanks to the Lord for He is good,” he says closing the confession.
“For His mercy endures forever,” I say in reply just like I have done countless times before.
“Beth,” he says. His voice is hard, and it turns me on. “My office now.” He closes the partition with a hard click.
I exit the booth and make my way to his office in the rectory as quickly as I can without being noticed. When I get there, he isn’t in there yet, so I sit on the little couch in the corner and wait. A few minutes later, he comes in, shutting and locking the door behind him. Without a word, he comes to me, pulls me to my feet and kisses me. Kisses me like we are about to die. He pulls my wimple off and tosses it to the floor. His fingers tangle in my hair. He pulls it and guides the kiss how he wants it. Coming to my senses, I pull my lips away from his.
“How can we betray our vows, our very souls,” I ask, thoroughly confused right now.
“How can we not, Beth?”
“I love you, Jacob but I’m sorry. I can’t be with you. I can’t betray everything I stood for before I met you. Please don’t ask this of me.”
“Beth, can’t you assume that He orchestrated our meeting?”
“No,” I reply.
“Just no? Nothing else?” he asks frustrated. He rubs the top of his head briskly.
“What do you want me to say, Jacob? Please take me, here on the couch.”
“That would be a good start,” he says.
“Be rational, Jacob. You are a man of God. I am a woman of God. We can’t. We just can’t. I need guidance,” I tell him.
“Guidance? Guidance? You tell me those things and then you expect me to guide you. It doesn’t work that way. You say that I’m a man of God, but the problem is that I’m a man. I have urges and desires that the collar doesn’t curb.”
“That wasn’t fair of me, but I am at my breaking point,” I admit.