Cora has a crush on me?
I can hardly think straight. On me?
“Cora, I don’t… I don’t understand why you’re so upset.”
“Because it’s inappropriate, and I don’t know what I’m supposed to do with these feelings now that I’m…” She gestures to her outfit. “And today was supposed to be such a good day, and now I’ve ruined it!”
“You haven’t ruined anything,” I argue, but that's not exactly true. She may have ruined my sense of peace now that I know how she feels about me, but I’m burying those thoughts for the moment because my Cora is upset.
Taking her wrists in my hands, I gently pull them away to reveal her face. She can hardly make eye contact with me, but I just want her to stop hiding. When her innocent blue eyes finally find their way to mine, she speaks.
“There’s never been a problem in my life you haven’t helped me fix. So how do we fix this? What am I supposed to do now?”
My mouth goes dry. How do we fix this? Because to be honest, it’s not something I really want to go away. How would a normal man solve this? He’d tell her he likes her too and then what? He’d kiss her? Take her on a date?
No, that’s not what I’d really do. But I can’t think about what I’d really do because it’s something a little more along the lines of showing her just how much I want her and savoring every inch of her perfect little body with my mouth before I claimed her in a moment fueled by lust.
Suddenly my mind goes deep into imagining a scenario of me plunging my hand down her panties and running my fingers through her wet lips, watching her face as I sink inside her, so tight it grips my finger—
“Father Roman?”
Her voice pulls me out of my daydream, and I freeze when I feel the sudden tension in my pants. Shame heats my cheeks as I realize I have a full erection.
“Cora, sit down for a moment,” I say gesturing to the chair on the other side of my desk.
She perches at the end of the seat, clasping her hands in her lap as I take the seat across from her. She’s worrying her bottom lip as she stares, not at my face, but at the Bible open on the desk.
What am I supposed to say? I’ve never been so speechless.
“It isn’t a sin to have feelings, Cora. Not really.”
Her eyes lift to mine. “It’s not?”
“No. You are free to love, even sworn to God Himself, but it’s important that we don’t…”
I swallow the needles stuck in my throat. The words lose their way, even as they are leaving my mouth. I have to tell her that we cannot act on these feelings, and I know in my heart that is what’s right, but why is it so hard? Why can’t I just say that?
“It’s a test of faith,” I say to her, but also to myself. “And we cannot...act on these feelings. If this is our test, then we must show God our strength in faith and devotion.”
Her brow furrows as she stares at me. “We?”
I freeze. Replaying everything I just said, I realize my mistake. Without even thinking, I just admitted my feelings to her. I only said it to console her, but I basically just said that I, too, have these feelings.
The quiet air between us grows tense.
“You said we,” she says carefully. “Do you feel this attraction too, Father?”
“Of course, I understand the urges you might be experiencing. Like I said it’s a test of—”
“Because if you feel what I’m feeling then I won’t feel so bad. Then it’s really not me, and I’m not so sinful after all.”
The look on her face is so innocent, so pure and beautiful. This poor girl, abused and abandoned by her own parents, so desperate for love and belonging that she found her way to me where I offered her just that, is only looking for confirmation that she’s not alone.
“I’m feeling what you are feeling, Cora,” I say. These words come out easily. They slip through my lips, cleansing the air of tension and making it suddenly easier to breathe.
“Oh,” she whispers quietly, her mouth framed in a delicate o-shape.
Suddenly there’s a knock at the door. We both flinch as our heads snap toward the doorway. One of the altar boys stands there nervously, staring at us.
“Father Roman…” he stutters. “The congregation is waiting.”
Fuck. I curse inwardly, standing up in a rush. Although the pressure in my pants has subsided, I’m torn between shame and disgust in myself and desire to stay with Cora when I really should be putting my congregation first.
I really am a terrible priest.
Chapter 3
Father Roman
* * *
Three years ago
* * *
There’s a fresh bruise on her cheek today. Even as she entertains me with her story about the neighbor’s dog making his way into her living room where she fed it and kept it cuddled with her on the couch all night, I can’t seem to take my eyes off the blue patch of skin under her eye. I can’t stop thinking about how she got it. I imagine someone hitting her hard enough to turn her face that color and my fists clench around the Bible in my hands.
I haven’t asked her about it yet because I don’t want to bring her down. I hate to see that smile of hers fade, because when she’s here, she does nothing but smile. Until now, there hasn’t been a mark on her since that first night she showed up here two years ago.
We mostly hang out in the rec room where there is a TV she figured out how to hook her phone up to so we can stream Netflix. It’s past nine on a Tuesday, and her little visits after Mass have become an almost-nightly ritual. There’s a bowl of popcorn between us on the couch, and we have our feet kicked up on the coffee table.
I’ve tried to get Cora to join the teen Bible study, and she came to one meeting, but I could tell she struggled to connect to the others. She comes to Mass, but she’s usually late, and she sneaks in the back, sitting quietly in the last pew. Without her parents’ consent, she can’t go through confirmation until she’s eighteen, so I tell myself this is the best I can get with Cora. I work in counseling and talk about God when I can, but mostly, I give her a safe place to stay and a friend to talk to.
“How’s school?” I ask.
“Good. I’m mostly done with everything, so it’s a piece of cake now. You’re coming to graduation, right?” She piles a handful of popcorn into her mouth.
“Of course,” I reply casually. Then I add carefully, “Are your parents coming?”
She tenses before grabbing a can of soda off the table. “I think my mom has to work. It’s not really my dad’s scene.”
“Your high school graduation isn’t his scene?”
She shrugs. “He hasn’t been working lately so he’s been in a bad mood.”
“Is that why you have that?” I gesture to the purple patch of skin on her cheek. I’ve deliberated for the past two years if I should have called DPS for Cora’s own safety after that first night, and now I really regret not doing it when I should have.
She stares silently at the television before she speaks. “He was picking on my mom, and I just got in the way. He was being an asshole.”