As God Intended

What Sort of Jesus Magic?

"Want something to drink?" John wondered.
"Oh...oh no thank you. I'm not staying long." The priest assured.
"What makes you think that? Come on then, I imagine we're both lonely these days." John insisted, leaning heavily on the table and giving the priest his most bothersome smile. Father Holmes's face cringed, as if he didn't have time to understand the full meaning of John's statement, though he finally shuffled into a seat and sat straight backed along the altar with his hands folded in front.
"Where's your wife?" he asked at last, as if suddenly realizing there was a Watson missing.
"She's got a job now. That's what I'm supposed to be doing, too. Finding a job." John grumbled, trying to make it clear that this was the biggest waste of his time. He had already filled out applications before they arrived, certainly one of those would work out before he put effort into another?
"How ghastly." Father Holmes grumbled.
"Ya well, not all of us can live for free." John pointed out. The priest nodded, but dropped his head a little bit doubtfully. Perhaps there was more to his living situation than John previously imagined, or perhaps more to his life in general.
"I am lucky in that regard." The man agreed. John gave him a smile, appreciating the pause in conversation as he was able to better examine the way the man's hair was cut. He looked so sloppy and disheveled that it was almost humorous, as if John should be taking a photograph to commemorate the occasion.
"John, I was happy to have you at confession today." The priest declared at last, to which John's face fell in some surprise. He had been expecting a scolding, a banishment of all things! But to hear praise, well this was completely unexpected.
"Really?" John clarified at last, figuring this might be a joke to lead into the proper scolding. By now Father Holmes looked just as confused as John, perhaps reacting to this display of surprise and wondering if he had done anything wrong by approaching the subject.
"Well of course." He assured. "It was a big first step in the right direction. To see that you are seeking forgiveness, acknowledging your sins, and beginning to recognize your Lord is all that I can ask of a nonbeliever."
"Right." John agreed, nodding his head and figuring he ought to just pretend that all of this was indeed his own idea. To mention the old lady's near kidnap treatment of him would probably crush this small bubble of appreciation the Father was just beginning to feel for him. Certainly it would be better to let the priest have his moment?
"I mean your format was all wrong, terrible actually..."
"Well like you said, it was my first time. No one does anything right their first time." John assured.
"Certainly not." The priest agreed a bit nervously. "That's why I thought you might like to try again."
"Again? Oh no, certainly I have no more sins to forgive." John assured, chuckling apprehensively and shaking his head. He didn't want to go through that for a second time, with the Father expecting some great religious feat! It would be embarrassing, and frankly a bit waste of everyone's time.
"I'm sure you have plenty. I'm sure you've sinned since you stepped out of the box." The Father agreed with a smile.
"What do you think I did, murder someone in these four hours?" John chuckled.
"No, certainly not. Sins are a myriad of things, spanning from your personal feelings, your thoughts, your actions, and even your views of the Lord." The priest assured.
"Sounds like a lot to keep track of." John presumed with a tiresome sigh. "We'd be in there all night."
"Would it not be worth it, to clear your soul of your past deeds?" the priest insisted.
"Oh you talk like I'm so foul, as if you've never sinned before." John laughed starkly.
"I don't deny it! Even the holiest of us need redemption; we need to ask the Lord to forgive us and to acknowledge our mistakes." The priest assured with a nod. John smiled, at last straightening up on the altar and thrusting out a hand to capture one of Father Holmes's stray curls, one which hung about a whole inch shorter than the rest.
"This hair cut is a sin." He presumed.
"That's beside the point!" the priest protested, hitting John's hand away lightly as if to bring him back to their main conversation. Little did he understand that John was merely stalling, in fact he was trying to get out of the entire arrangement. It sounded like too much work on both of their parts, not to mention it might be embarrassing to throw out the darkest depths of his soul to Father Holmes. Especially now that the priest knew it was him! Wasn't there supposed to be a veil of secrecy involved, put in place to protect the poor sinner?
"Look, I appreciate your concern over me, I really do, but I feel like it'll just be a waste of time." John insisted.
"We don't even have to sit in the booths. We can do it right here on this couch." The Father offered, guesting over towards John's poorly constructed living room. John chuckled, finally leaning back in his chair.
"I've heard that one before." he admitted.
"Heard what?" Father Holmes asked blankly.
"Nothing, nothing. Fine, I'll humor you if that's what you've really come to do." John decided at last, getting up from his chair a bit heavily. "Anything's better than job searching anyway."
"Wonderful." Father Holmes said happily, prancing over to the couch in a very strange manner before sitting down heavily upon one of the cushions. He patted the one next to him, as if to make sure John knew exactly where to sit in juxtaposition to him. John sauntered hesitantly up, sinking down upon command and trying to arrange himself so that he wasn't nearly falling upon the man's lap. It was the fault of the couch, really, as each one of the cushions liked to sink and slide when applied with skewed weight.
"In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit." Father Holmes began, his voice falling into his deep and priestly demeanor. It was strange, how much his body language had changed and how intense his gaze had become. It was always a bit of a challenge to look into those eyes, though now they were staring as if with laser precision into John's irises, probably scanning the inside of his soul. As threatening as this was, well it was almost fixating in a way. John felt that he couldn't look away, simply because he didn't want to.
"Amen." John breathed in agreement, finding that his voice came only in a breath as his find focused on other things, most notably the man who was sitting before him.
"Alright, and then your part." Father Holmes instructed. John nodded, remembering back to his silly statement all those hours before.
"Forgive me Father, for I have sinned." John began.
"My last confession was..." the priest added quickly, gesturing for John to repeat and continue.
"My last confession was," he checked his watch, "About four hours ago."
"Very good. Now list them, carefully." The priest suggested. John nodded, folding his hands together apprehensively and trying to think of different things that might count as sins. Well there were so many things that he had done in his lifetime, some which were direct acts against not only the Lord but the law as well. But the only thing, the only thing he could think of at the moment came to the tip of his tongue and slipped away before he could stop it.
"Well, I did have sex before I got married." John declared at last. The priest's face flushed, obviously taken aback by how abrupt that confession was.
"Okay, go on." Father Holmes insisted, though his voice was strained as if he was still recovering from the shock. John nodded, trying to think of anything else which might fall in the appropriate categories.
"I killed a squirrel with my car, and actually a cat one time too, but I think I've been forgiven for that. And when I was twelve I stole a match box car from my friend. And I guess I don't really believe in God, which is probably a sin against him, and I've never been to church in my life." John finished at last, nodding his head as if he figured that was a good way to end.
"It's never in a priest's authority to suggest sins, but I'm sure you're forgetting some." Father Holmes insisted. "Think deeper, John."
"Deeper." John agreed quietly, tapping his finger upon his knee and trying to think about anything that was not so obvious. He tried to remember what the priest had listed as sins...
"Sometimes I get angry...angry at my wife. Angry at the world. Sometimes I imagine running away." John admitted quietly, his eyes staring blank and unblinking at the polished shoes of the priest who sat before him. "Sometimes I think I never should have gotten married at all. She's the love of my life, but I'm afraid of commitment. I'm afraid that twenty years down the road I won't feel the same."
"Go on, John." the priest insisted, leaning forward as if entranced with the confessions of his most interesting neighbor. It was silly to continue to speak; he should have stopped talking straight away! But there was something that had come over him, perhaps some sort of truth serum that God had slipped into his morning coffee, and at the insistence of the priest he just felt as if his words were falling from his lips and into the man's extended hands. Father Holmes's voice was soothing, caring, as if everything spoken between them really did stay private. It was almost too easy to continue, as if this was finally his chance to get the weight of the world off of his back.
"Growing up I was afraid, deathly afraid of being any different. And sometimes I worry that I conformed myself too early, and that I'm not who I'm really supposed to be. I'm afraid I've made all the wrong choices, and fallen into a life I cannot escape." John whispered at last. "And I think about other things, Father, I think about other people."
"In what way?" the priest wondered softly, extending his hand where it hung off of his knee as if to offer it to the nervous man. Perhaps he wanted to offer solace, perhaps he wanted to relieve his poor neighbor of the loneliness he was feeling in the spotlight. But John wasn't feeling lonely, he wasn't feeling afraid. All the same, almost on instinct, he took the hand which was offered to him. He wove his fingers through the extended hand, brushing his palm against the soft, exposed skin which was now so accessible.
"Romantically." John admitted quietly, dropping his head lower and squeezing upon the hand in shame. "Sexually." He added again. "I'm unfaithful in thought, Father. Never in deed."
"Most people struggle with such a thing." the priest assured softly. "You cannot always control to who your mind wanders."
"Perhaps not." John agreed in a struggling voice. "But it's a sin all the same."
"Not all men fit the same mold." The priest whispered, his fingers trembling within John's grasp as if this was the first time he had ever been trapped within the grip of another. He seemed nervous about it, but not all together unhappy.
"I know, I know." John muttered with a nod.
"And you have nothing to be ashamed of." Father Holmes added on.
"Will you just go ahead and forgive me? I'm not here for a lecture." John protested hastily, trying to throw some humor into the mix to ease the stifling tension which was building.
"First you must declare regret. Apologize for your sins, Mr. Watson." The Father instructed.
"I'm sorry, truly sorry. For Mary, for myself...for anyone involved." John assured. "I try my best, I try every second to be a good husband."
"And you are, you are." Father Holmes assured. "John, your sins are forgiven in the name of the Lord." Slowly he released his hand from John's, sliding his fingers away only to extend his hand towards the man's forehead, touching very gently upon his brow before sinking down to his chest and prodding him there as well. Then he tapped both shoulders, before collecting both of John's hands within his own and holding them together, as if forcing him to pray.
"Say Amen." The priest instructed quietly. John merely blinked, having gotten so lost within the gaze that he nearly forgot that instruction was aimed at him.
"Amen." John spoke in a trance, his eyes lost within the sea of clashing colors that were depicted in the young priest's eyes. His hands were trapped within Father Holmes's, though for the life of him he didn't want the man to let go. For a moment John was lost, hopelessly lost in shadow, and for once he saw a bright light that directed him towards redemption. The light was shining around the priest, enveloping him in something of a halo, until suddenly his skin began to glow, his eyes began to glow, and his touch grew warm. John leaned in closer, trying to absorb the heat, trying to follow the light, until finally his eyes drooped closed and his face fell towards their hands, all tangled and entwined within another. Almost desperately he made contact with the softest hand he could find, wrestling it into submission and holding it below his lips, a mere breath away, and feeling the need to kiss it. And he might've, John wanted so dearly to feel that skin against his lips, though it was the priest's hesitation that stopped him in his ultimate attempt. He felt the hand tighten up, the one which was once so soft and gentle, now stiffen as if the priest had been wounded. Suddenly John regained his senses, feeling each one of the muscle clench within the wrist of the poor priest, and his eyes shot up to meet his companion's. Suddenly he released the hand, holding his own up in a frantic surrender, finding that in the process his breath had been knocked completely from his lungs. He took to gasping, holding his hands higher still and scrambling off of the couch nervously. Father Holmes was stuck where he sat, still with his hands lying where they had fallen, his eyes wide and his lips parted in shock. Whatever had happened was still trying to be processed by both men, and in an instant John tried to figure if he had just sinned the seconds after his confession. Would he have to do it again, this time in a strait jacket?
"What sort of Jesus magic are you casting over there?" John asked at last, figuring it had been a spell that was cast over him instead of any natural human response.
"No magic!" the priest defended weakly, getting to his feet as if he had suddenly regained the use of his body.
"I don't believe you. No, that was...that was some sort of creepy trance." John demanded. Father Holmes blinked, as if he was now just as confused as John felt. But no, none of that could be natural! Not the confession, not the aftermath, not the feelings which had just exploded within his chest as if he had been hit with a bomb!
"I never talk about deep things, not ever. And here you have me gushing on command! You had to have put something in the water, or drugged me!" John declared.
"That's just the influence of the Lord." The priest defended.
"No it's not." John growled. "There is no such thing as the Lord; you can't just blame him for everything!"
"Mr. Watson! You happen to be standing in a church! There is no time for such talk!" the priest demanded.
"This isn't a church it's my bloody house! And you're not even a priest you're just...you're just a squatter with a fancy collar!" John decided at last, throwing up his hands in defeat while stomping his foot in determination. Father Holmes faltered, recoiling away with a quick step backwards as his face fell into a mix between confusion and utmost insolence.
"Why the sudden change?" the priest asked at last. "What is this, a defense mechanism?"
"Probably!" John growled just as agressivley, turning aside to give the couch a good kick. Perhaps the pain was intended to bring him out of his trance and back into reality, or maybe he had hoped he could inflict some pain upon the furniture instead. Either way he ended with a hurt toe, which was at least another sensation other than fear and utmost regret. Father Holmes gave an exclamation of protest, as if he was now frightened to see John turn so angry so quickly. He was helpless just to stare, with his hands raised to his chest as if to calm his frightened heart.
"Sorry, sorry!" John insisted at last, perhaps to the priest and the couch together. At last he began to feel tired, deathly tired, and as the anger melted away his body began to wobble. Finally he found himself fallen onto the cushions they had just been sitting on, his face pressed into the couch as he let loose a final groan of submission. Father Holmes loomed above him with worry, staring down upon the back of his head and looking nervous to even ask the man if he was okay.
"Is this what being redeemed feels like?" John questioned miserably.
"I must say you're the first to react with such aggression." The priest admitted fearfully. "But perhaps it's just a violent response to forgiveness."
"I don't like it." John admitted miserably, at last turning his neck on the couch so that his words were no longer stifled by the thick fabric. He groaned again, this time getting a good view of the priest's knees as they were just along his eye level.
"You'll get used to it." Father Holmes assured from above. John was silent for a moment, feeling a bit of drool escape his open mouth, but at last he tried to bring his eyes towards the priest, as if to make eye contact once more.
"You won't tell her, will you?" John clarified.
"Of course I won't. That's the oath of a priest, Mr. Watson. All that is said between us is shared only with God." Father Holmes assured.
"Well then make sure he's not a snitch either." John groaned. "I shouldn't have said that stuff. I'm not even sure if it's true or not, I don't know where it came from."
"It's just your soul speaking, John." the priest assured.
"Then it should shut up." he decided. "How embarrassing."
"It's not embarrassing, it's natural human flaws." Father Holmes assured.
"Ya right! Human flaws, as if everyone struggles with that sort of stuff. As if you find yourself with the wandering eye." John snarled. He was expecting a rather quick denial, though when the priest hesitated with his final word John turned his entire body, this time determined to read the expression on the man's face.
"Like I said, Mr. Watson. Natural human flaws." The priest repeated. "I too am human."
"Oh my God." John muttered, sitting up quickly without allowing his eyes to leave the nervous little expression of Father Holmes. He looked downright mortified, though it seemed as though he felt the need to do a little bit of confessing himself.
"Don't take the name of our Lord in vain." Father Holmes reminded him weakly.
"Holy s**t." John corrected, to which the Father blinked but was silent. "Who do you get the hots for, some nun who let a strand of hair fall on her face?"
"Mr. Watson, do not be so absurd!" Father Holmes defended starkly; with such a defense that John actually had to believe him.
"What's your type, Father? I mean up until last week it was probably ninety year old women who could still walk. Are you still into that?" John presumed with a ghastly frown.
"I'm not ninety!" the priest declared wildly. "And I'm not into anyone! Or anything, for that matter!"
"Then why do you declare yourself human?" John demanded.
"Because I'm not inhuman! I've learned to control those emotions, but yes, when I was a boy perhaps I had some considerations. Passing fancies, more like it." the man admitted at last, though his face was growing rather red in defensiveness. It was as if he didn't like to think about those years, as if he had concerns of his childhood crushes even before he took his vows.
"Little catholic girls?" John chuckled.
"No." the priest defended.
"Little catholic boys?" John corrected nervously. "That might get you into some trouble these days."
"Mr. Watson, don't speak of things so foul." The man insisted, at last turning away with a shudder. John could tell that he had struck a nerve, though in what context he could not guess. Suddenly the banter of the room had diminished, and he found himself staring upon the trembling figure of his neighbor, the man who was now bent over and afraid.
"Sorry." John muttered quickly. The priest straightened up at last, pulling upon the end of his belt as if to make sure it was secure in a strange, almost instinctive fashion. He cleared his face, trying to regain color in his paled cheeks, and looked down upon John in a disturbed, concerned fashion.
"I'm sorry for my reaction, Mr. Watson. And likewise, I apologize for such an abrupt departure." The priest declared at last.
"Departure?" John clarified, figuring you couldn't have a departure unless you were gone.
"Yes, goodbye." The priest agreed, giving a stiff nod before turning on his heel and walking rather swiftly out the way he came. John sat back upon the couch in defeat, understanding at last why he had apologized in advance. He gave a huff, feeling sweat beginning to accumulate on his brow even in the rather chilly afternoon. There was something terribly strange in that conversation, strange from start to finish.
"Bye." John muttered at last, long after the priest had vanished through the doors.