Thomas
"And what is that?" He said.
I gripped the cool stone around the basin, steadying myself.
"I want you to tell me what having sex is like." I told him.
His eyes went wide and he held in a laugh. "You... want me... ok then I guess." He crossed his arms, "but you mind if we do it after the church lessons."
I watched him giggle and gave a slight grimace. We dried off and turned down the hallway, entering the extravagant church hall. The newly cleaned stained glass art sparkled with the setting sunlight.
We sat with Father Noah, speaking about the way we should act around others, and how to be kind. He gave us our nightly readings and sent us off.
"Its pertinent to remember, kindness comes not from words, but from action."
Damian and the other boys left the room, leaving me and Father Noah to speak.
"I have to confess father." I told him.
He screwed up his face making his wrinkles appear deeper. His eyes were kind though, sympathetic.
"Yes, son?" He said with the deep cracked voice of an ex-cigar smoker.
"I would have sinned today if not for Damians level headedness, I threw myself upon him like in hopes that he would take me father." I confessed, clenching my fists.
"Thank you for your honesty Tom, but I must ask, why didnt Damian? He is a self proclaimed sodomite." He responded, rubbing his aching knuckles that had written more sermons than I could count, and worked more days than I will see. I took his hand gently, and he squeezed mine.
"He told me he couldn't fix me unless he committed sins, though he said it with much more crassness than I dare repeat. Even though I practically begged him, he pushed me away and said I would regret it later." I explained.
He grabbed a bottle of cheap italian wine and poured himself a small glass into a cup. He made one for me as well, giving me one of the few glass cups we had. I didnt drink though, instead stared at my reflection on the surface of the purple-red liquid.
"You are a boy of many words Tom, but I understand your problem. What do you think you should do."
"I told him to tell me what it is like, the act itself, so perhaps I could realize it isnt everything its made out to be."
Father Noah nodded along with my words. "Thats quite a plan Tommy, but I must warn you, the act is as good as many people say it is. If it wasnt, it wouldnt tempt us like it does."
"But it cant be... people describe as though its greater than anything. They even profess it to be 'like heaven.' Nothing can be so good, can it father?"
He took a long sip from his glass, thinking as he did so. Than sighed, "Thomas, I became a celibate to become a Priest, I ridded myself of all desire, of all chances to fall to temptation, but its is the hardest trial of them all. Sex, my boy, is not like Heaven, you're right. None of us know what Heaven is like. But it is as close as you can get."
I stared at the wall, "Why must we be tested so harshly father."
He put a hand on my shoulder, "I have a secret to tell you son, but you must not share it, and you must not abuse it later."
I faced him and waited for his words, a tip, a key to staying without sin.
"Sin now, and pray for forgiveness each day as night falls." He told me, "For everyone sins, you must make up for it in what you do right."
I didnt dare say a word to argue, but I couldnt believe what he had said so carelessly. A priest, my priest, was encouraging me to sin.
He saw the worry in my eyes and spoke again, "You dont have to follow my words Thomas, and I am not encouraging you to sin. But what I am saying is that we have a God with endless mercy, so live. Live even if you do sin, but live by God and always turn back to him." He clarified.
I sucked in a breath and turned towards the hall Damian was lingering in. He had been listening to all of this while waiting for me.
I bit my lip, turned back to Father Noah, and nodded once. He smiled his fatherly smile, one full of love, and motioned for me to leave.
I scrambled and went to the hall and joined Damian in a walk to our room, speaking to him softly about nothing of importance, as both of us knew one of the nuns or boys could be listening, and joined the group in the common room.
"Betta day Thomas? You got more colour in your cheeks." Jack said while grabbing a copy of one of our books.
"You could say that." I told him, turning to Damian whose eyes were boardly trailing my body. Practically undressing me with his stare. I did the same, remembering how he looked at the bathhouse, and imagining him in front of me. Just like at the bathhouse, bared for all to see but only me to touch. And I imagined how he felt, how each crease, each dimple, each defined muscle would feel under my finger tips.
"I met a girl today," Hanson said with pride. "Her name is Petunia, like the flower, and she is the prettiest girl in the world. Shes got hair so blonde it looks lavender in the light, and her eyes got this brilliant twinkle. Im gonna marry her one day you just watch." He continued to ramble on about how sweet her voice was, how her brown skin glistened like tree sap.
Damians hair wasnt like hers, more like a seashell color, or the color of blue ice. Strange though cause he's anything but cold, he feels like an oven, warmed me all night long.
He rubbed his shoulder, pushing the fabric to show the tattoo I vowed to keep covered. 'Fortissimo' , the musical word for fast. I had seen it in chorus many times. And above it, the sign for crescendo. Loud and fast. Perfect for him.
"So you too are gonna marry huh? What makes you think she wants to marry and ugly boy like you mate?" A boy from the group, Norman, joked. Hanson continued to fight with the others.
I tried to stay focused on the conversation. The incomprehensible nonsense from Jack, and the hopeless romanticism from Hanson, but all I wanted was to whisk away with Damian. I wanted to wrap myself in his arms, I wanted him to break me, I wanted to break him. I wanted to leave with both of us shattered and torn past recognizing. Like burn victims, charred to where even their own mothers couldn't recognize them.
That was unnecessarily dark and dramatic.
I couldnt leave with him yet, though, I needed to wait until it was late enough for our absence to go unnoticed. I counted the seconds off, each second though a new theory of what would happen crashed against me.
What if he pushed me away again? Or if he doesnt even want me like I need him? What if all of this is made up in my head and Im listening to my hormones, not my head.
I dont need him. I want his body. Nothing else. I could care less about him. But the crushing temptation of his body struck me like lightning in every instance.
I thought of the night I slapped him. It felt half like a punishment for him, half like a gift for myself. A "since you have been asking for so long, might as well" gift. I could still feel his cheek in my palm.
I thought of when I fell asleep wrapped up in him. His smell, his breath, his heartbeat, all permeating the air in one intoxicating mixture that spells out Damian. Him, him, him. Why I wanted him, no, why I wanted his body, is such a useless question.
Why is the sun yellow and the grass green? Why does the Jay sing but the crow croak?
It just is. I just desire him.
But the true question here is, "am I really giving in?"
Ive never faced a desire like this. I know that. So of course when it hit me I was unprepared, like and unvaccinated child against polio, immediately sickened with I want.
The hours ended, and it was curfew. We all left to our rooms. Damian stayed in the common room, drinking something that Im guessing isn't water. He must have grabbed some of the wine that is kept for communion. By God, Im falling to the temptations of a stealing, drunken, sodomite.
I sat on his bed, waiting for him. Should I undress? Should I even do anything tonight? Should I just give up and go to sleep?
Just as Im wondering the door opens, and Damian lingers in the door frame. He is a silloette only, but I can see each definining curve that makes him Damian. The empty wine bottle hanging from his grip. He leaned against the door frame, letting the halls light reveal half of his face, the other still casted in shadow.
"Thomas."
"Damian."
We waited, hesitating. He sustained that incomprehensible look of indifference. Bored, but slightly amused.
I imagined what I looked like to him. Waiting on his bed like a prostitute waiting for payment. A whore ready to drop to her knees just to feel something. Cheeks flushed, eyelids lowered, legs trembling.
But either way, Im his in this moment to ignore, or use. His.