Chapter Text
Your parents instilled a mentality of bringing something for the first time you would be over someone’s house. That was usually the case back in the day whenever they visited friends from that old church, old and new, including that one couple that wanted them to be godparents to their upcoming baby. Usually, like a simple chocolate cake or something, but in your case, you sucked at baking.
So here you were standing at the door, a little hesitant to knock, in your jeans, steel toes, Batushka shirt, black hoodie getup, holding two six packs of cookies you bought at the General Store . It was Annie Flynn that nearly convinced you to buy both the chocolate chip and snickerdoodles. The packaging wasn’t too big, at least, almost like bringing you boxes of Girl Scout cookies from the size of it.
You didn’t know why you were anxious, specifically. Part of you was happy to see Paul again. After all, you just started a relationship with him. Not in the most ideal way, of a series of soft kisses that lead to full out sex due to uncovering that you both had feelings for each other, but this little date at the rectory would definitely make up for it.
However, he was still a priest! Even though you had a gut feeling he was definitely not much like the others, sitting down to talk about your practice, even though he showed interest, was going to be quite tricky. You had to love still having religious trauma loom over you, but you decided to trust your secret boyfriend and you knocked the door.
As it opened, you were greeted with a familiar soft smile. Your Paul stood there scooping you in for a hug in that priest collar getup and a pair slim grey Levi’s that made you fluster. He looked like he had a long day himself. Nonetheless, you hugged him back and kissed him.
“Sorry it’s late, got caught up with school stuff”
“No worries! I just got back from hearing confessions.”
You nod politely, studying the room: religious imagery was sprinkled here and there and his black cardigan was plopped on the top right corner of his couch.
“Take a seat!” he then says, gesturing towards the small table, where a photo of Pope Francis was looming over.
He comes over with some lemonade. “It’s a little late for coffee, will this do?”
“Oh, of course” you smile shyly and he pours you a cup before helping himself to some as well. There were some finger sandwiches too, on a small paper plate. “Help yourself to some of those too! They should still be good as leftovers from the other day, made a little too much in my spare time”
“Sure, thanks” your tone was still bashful. You were in new surroundings, after all. “I…uh brought these too. I was kind of taught to always bring something over for a first time.”
His eyes lit up as you presented the small cases of cookies. “Snickerdoodles.” He remarked thoughtfully. “That’s actually my favorite.”
You giggle and open the pack right away, handing him the first one.
You were a little more relaxed than anticipated now. Fire away, handsome. You think to yourself.
“So…” he begins the conversation in a slightly awkward manner. He probably was a little nervous too. A slight contrast from the usual gregarious and charismatic clergyman preaching behind a pulpit in his chasubles weekly.
“How are you?” Always a good ice breaker.
“I’m fine. I guess. A little tired. The kids are great, but they can a bit rambunctious at times.”
Paul chuckled. “To be a child again, with that much energy.”
“Indeed.” A soft smile accompanied your reply. “How about you?”
“Definitely doing alright, myself. Just settling into working with this island. Daily Mass, Confessions, seeing if I can help anyone else the best I can.”
You just nod politely, not really being able to comprehend what it’s like being a man of his status.
An awkward, yet amicable pause follows the ice breaker. You were checking him out a bit. How handsome he was, the way he sat with his legs apart in slim jeans, and the way he paid attention to you with those kindly sad eyes of his. You couldn’t help but blush and look away for a few seconds before reverting gaze and taking a sip of your lemonade.
“Well…uh…thanks for having me over, Father.” Even though he said you could call him Paul, the formality just randomly slipped. “You still wanted to know more about my practice, right?”
“Oh, yes, of course.” There was a similar gawky tension between the two secret lovers, akin to when he saw you come to Mass after he asked you if you would.
The look on his face, despite that, was actually pretty endearing which earned him another soft smile from you. “Well, it’s definitely a lot to uncover. Not really sure where to start.”
You both chuckle. “Oh no worries, be free to talk about whatever you like here. I’ll do my best to understand, of course.”
That gave you some reassurance, though you still were indecisive to begin.
Paul thought to himself, a good question to say the least, something he would hope wouldn’t make you uncomfortable. “Hm… you said before you weren’t Catholic right?” His question was greeted by a slight tilt of your head. You remembered you snapped when he first asked something like that, but this time, you didn’t mind.
“That’s correct. I actually was raised Greek Orthodox. I know, usually with interfaith marriages, the mom has a say with what religion the kids would be raised, but I think my mom converted before I was born anyway.”
Paul nodded. “ I see.” There was a long story how your parents divorced and somehow your mom converted back and became a frequent St. Patrick’s Mass attendee, but you didn’t want to get into that.
“I believe I remember meeting some clergy of that caliber at interfaith gatherings.
“I mean, their mystic methods are interesting, for sure. You’ve brought up hesychasm once, if I’m not mistaken.”
“Yeah. I think it’s a contemplative monastic tradition. I think founded in the 14th century in Mount Athos? I’m aware some sects think that the practice itself is heresy though. ”
Paul nodded. “I see. I must admit though, despite the sect I preach in, I do sometimes wonder if it’s just all the same in the end. After all, there’s always various ideas of being close to God.”
You nod back, keeping your own ideas parallel to what he was saying.
“I must admit, though. When I did meet those Orthodox priests, they seemed nice. Very traditional, but also, I can’t really process the best words , but a little off. It’s been many years, I’ve been involved with mainly one parish for most of my calling.”
You sighed. “Yeah, they have this idea of being the original faith and they think it was the Catholics that broke away at the Great Schism in 1054, not sure if I haven’t brushed up on my history, but it seems like an odd, biased claim. I mean, a lot of sects existed before that, even before the Nicean Council. Of course, I do understand that a lot of those sects were seen as heresy. But the Catholic and Orthodox Churches as we know it today have definitely evolved out of said council and so forth, I believe.” You give a chuckle as you sip the rest of your lemonade, and contemplate taking another cookie.
“you seem to know a lot about the church, early history. That is.” Father Paul had a contemplative look in doe-like, starry eyes.
“Yeah…” you shyly scratch the back of your neck. Back when you were starting out in trying to break from the church yourself, you still talked about the history and theology you knew. And…a lot of people, both Christian and not would often pester you, expressing the idea that for someone who claims to not be Christian anymore, you were still “obsessed”. In reality, you were just educating yourself.
“Oh, it’s okay” Paul interrupts your brief flashback thoughts. “It’s impressive, actually. Not a lot of people really dive into that.”
You nod once more. “Yeah, I kind of like to learn.” You laugh a bit. “I mean, if you’re calling yourself a practitioner of a certain faith, why not know as much as you can? I honestly, don’t like the idea of blind faith. I’d rather know what I’m getting myself into” In more reality, that likely contributed to why you left Christianity.
This time, you decided not to worry if he was offended or not. It was how you felt. And why not? Will it ever be a sin to know things?
Paul looked stunned over the last statement; a bit meditative really. “Blind faith…” he just repeated that term used by his occultist lover.
Your facial expression appeared to be like a smirk, but it was somehow sincere. “I understand as a priest, your job is to guide people…have a responsibility over their souls…” Your composure was calm as you spoke, despite still dealing with some memories of past priests and other devout Christians of any sect. “I just happen to find my own way.”
Another nod was the priest’s response, his eyes closed with a soft smile.
“And how has that been?” He asked, calmly and politely. He still seemed a bit concerned, a habit as a man of the cloth, but still gave you quality attention to explain yourself.
“It’s had its ups and downs over the past…15-ish years? I mean…it’s a long process to overcome a structure that’s been part of your life since birth. Like…religious trauma is a mother fucker and it’s going to follow me until I die….
“but I’m glad I found my path and I’m sure it’s going to evolve over time, but I’ve leaned so much about myself and the world around me, both physical and astral.”
Father Paul chuckled, as he sat back in that stance. “I see…” Despite his devotion, he showed no ill will towards your words. “Don’t worry though, Dove. I know this island will have their fervor, but you’re safe with me.
“Please” he gestures his hand towards you, palm out in a diagonal angle. “Tell me more about your beliefs.”
You smile at him, relieved at his reaction. Your courtship aside, it was indeed rare to be able to sit down with a priest over these topics. “Gladly!”