Genesis

III.

After the Beginning

--Two years ago--

A week later, I entered Fr. Dominic's office late in the afternoon.

"Ah, Joseph!" he greeted me, volubly, offering his hand. "How was you holiday? You look rested."

We chatted for a few minutes about my holiday, the upcoming semester, and then I asked for confession. "Forgive me, father, for I have sinned . . . . " As usual, I carefully listed those times when I felt that I had fallen short of what was expected of a seminarian. I ended by confessing my lack of chastity. Fr. Dominic was silent for some minutes after I had finished.

"Am I to assume, Joseph, that this . . . this unchaste act was similar . . . similar in . . . "

I knew what he was fighting to say, to say in a way that the question would not appear to be mere prurient interest.

"It was with the same person as before, Father."

He gazed at me briefly and I could see the pain in his eyes.

"Was this . . . this action an act of volition, Joseph?"

I paused briefly, "No, Father . . . . not really"

"You hesitate!"

"Well, when I knew where things were heading . . . I guess I could have . . . avoided the . . . circumstance . . . I could have . . . said, 'No.' But, I didn't, Father."

"Was this a solitary incident?"

"No, Father."

Again, Fr. Dominic was silent.

"So you . . . you came together more than once . . . since your last confession?"

"Yes, Father, twice."

Fr. Dominic's probings were never prurient, they were meant to be revelatory. He turned in his chair to the window and gazed out.

Turning back, he asked, "Joseph, had you ever considered NOT . . . confessing this . . . failing?"

I was at a loss as to why he had asked this question. Possibly because my confession had placed him on uncommon ground. "No, Father. That would have been a greater sin."

His hand raised in disbelief. "Many in The Church look upon this . . . this type of action that you . . . you have participated in as . . . as most heinous. Certainly, not venial."

I was silent.

"Other than the physical . . . ah! . . . the passion of the moment . . . ah! . . . the need for . . . release, do you have other feelings for this other person?"

"You mean . . . do I love him?"

Fr. Dominic closed his eyes and raised his hands in that universal "whatever" or "I don't know" gesture.

"I don't know, Father. I have feelings for him. The . . . the physical . . . ah, acts are . . ."

I was at a loss for words, words that could adequately explain my feelings, our association. I felt verbally inadequate at that point. I was in a moral/verbal dilemma.

I repeated, "The physical acts are . . . ." Then I blurted out with some vehemence, "We are not just rabbits . . . doing it all the time!"

There was a sharp intake of breath from Fr. Dominic. Instantly, I realized my error.

"I'm sorry, Father! That was . . . stupid." I quickly continued, "Forgive my outburst."

Then I continued, "In the many months that we have known each other, in the hundreds of hours that we have been together talking, walking, going to concerts, eating together, and the like, I have grown . . . very fond of him. Until recently, I would have considered him to be my best friend."

"And now, Joseph?"

"I don't know, Father. I guess our actions foreshadow something else."

"So then, I assume that you have confessed all . . . your . . . physical contacts."

"Yes, Father."

"You have not had . . . . Ah, . . . You have had no contact here?" Again, his probings were not purient. This was a difficult time for both men.

"No, Father," I answered quietly, "Not since that first time"

The truth was, there was an unwritten, unspoken commitment between José and me after the vacation in Puerto Rico that when we returned to campus, all untoward contacts would cease. It was out of respect for the locale, and, I now suspect, it was a way of my testing my feelings and desires. At that time, I don't know how José felt. It was not always easy for me. At first I yearned for his touch. As the weeks went by that desire lessened, some what.

There was a long period of silence.

"Joseph, " Fr. Dominic continued, "have you considered . . . considered severing your friendship . . . your relationship?"

"No, Father. To this point I haven't!"

"Might you consider such an action?"

I was waiting for him to add, "For the sake of you immortal soul." But he did not.

"I'm not sure." Then I added, "If the truth be known, I'm not sure I could."

The Father tented his fingers and closed his eyes. After a few minutes of absolute silence, he opened his eyes, raised his right hand and incanted the formula, "In the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Ghost, I absolve . . . ."

That evening José and I took our customary walk about the campus.

"Saw Fr. Frederic this afternoon," he stated. Fr. Frederic was José's confessor.

"I saw Fr. Dominic, too," then I added, "Did you tell him . . . about . . . us?"

"You know you're not supposed to ask such a question!" and added, "Did you tell Fr. Dominic?"

I smiled wanly and answered, "Yes."

"Me, too!"

We walked in silence for a few minutes.

"Did Fr. Dominic tell you that you were in mortal danger?"

"No."

"No?"

"Not in so many words," I stated quietly.

"What did he give you for penance?"

"None . . . .guess he forgot!"

"Damn!"

"And, you?"

"Talk about moral indignation! I was read the 'riot act,' royally! Thought he was going to scourge me on the spot! He asked me . . . No, TOLD me never to see you again."

I smiled, "Obviously that didn't work!"

"Did he ask for my identity?"

"Yes."

"Did you tell him?"

"No."

We walked again for a time in silence.

"Joe, what are we going to do?"

"I don't know!"

About two weeks later, I was walking across campus when I bumped into Fr. Dominic.

"Hello, Joseph. How are you?"

"Hi, Father . . . I'm fine."

"Missed you confession last Friday."

Confession is expected of us seminarians weekly. In the past I had been relatively consistent in attending.

"Nothing to confess," I stated lightly.

He smiled and stated, "I'm glad."

"I'm not," came my quick reply.

He glanced at me with concern.

"Would you like to go someplace and just talk, Joseph?" Then added, "No confession, just talk."

"Sure, Father."

Dotted about campus there are a number of gazebos. We entered one and sat opposite each other in that small space.

"Joseph, I must tell you, you have been in my prayers, constantly."

"Thank you Father, I need all the help I can get."

"Also, I have talked with a former high school classmate of mine, a Jesuit and a psychologist."

I raised my eyebrows a bit concerned.

Fr. Dominic raised a hand and quickly assured me, "Of course I didn't violate the confession. Nor, Joseph, would I violate this conversation."

I felt somewhat more at ease, saying, "And?" followed by, "What did he say?" I asked, somewhat apprehensively.

"Only that such a condition . . . your situation . . . is now believed to have genetic implications."

"I realize that . . . I have done a good bit of reading since the first . . . encounter."

"Then you must know that there are . . . there is a whole range of . . . possibilities."

"You mean the grey scale between absolute heterosexual to absolute homosexual?"

"Yes." He shifted uneasily and smiled, "You sure know how to get to the heart of things!"

I shrugged.

"Joseph, can I ask you a personal question?"

"Yes, Father." I had gone this far and I was comfortable talking to this priest.

"Have you ever . . . had . . . an association with . . . a woman?"

"No, Father."

"Have you ever had the . . . inclination?"

"I have dated girls a few times in high school, but . . . . No, I never had . . . the urge."

We sat quietly for a few minutes, contemplating all sorts of permutations.

Then, he looked at me intently and stated, "Well, I certainly wouldn't suggest that . . . you try . . . but you might consider . . . ."

I finished his implausible suggestion, ". . . Making love to a girl?"

He raised his hand and shrugged in resignation, then grinned. "Quite a suggestion coming from your confessor, eh?"

Smiling, I stated, "Yeah."

That evening, during our now common walk, I asked José, "Have you ever made love to a woman?"

"Yeah, a few times. But, I told you that."

"And?"

"And? What?"

"How was it?"

"OK!"

"OK? Just OK?"

"Yeah . . . Just OK!"

"Hmmmm," I mused.

Then it was his turn, "Have you ever made love to a woman?"

"No."

We walked for a couple of minutes.

"Why that question?" he asked.

"Just wondering," then I related my conversation with Fr. Dominic.

He snorted, "He suggested that you . . . you fuck a woman . . . to . . . to see . . . ."

"No! He didn't."

"So . . . Do you want to?"

"What?"

"Fuck a woman?" he asked with no small amount of vehemence.

"NO!"

"So . . . Do you wanna FUCK me?" spewed from his mouth.

His question shocked me, angered me. The bile rose to my throat. I glared at him.

"THAT was a stupid question! And the answer is -- NO!" I spat out.

I wheeled around and quickly walked back to my room.

José called after me, "Joe, I'm sorry!"

I avoided José for the next two days. I was angry. I was hurt by his statement. I took my meals late and when I did enter the refectory, I sat at a different table than one he occupied. If I saw him on campus, I avoided him.

Then the evening of the second day, there was a knock on my door.

"Yes?"

José stuck his head in and quietly asked, "Can we go for a walk?" and added, "Please!"

I nodded my head, closed the book I was reading and we walked outside in silence. For a full five minutes we trudged along our usual path.

Suddenly, there was an audible sob, "Joe . . . I'm sorry for what I said the other night . . . . Please . . . please, forgive me."

I glanced over at him and I saw tears coursing down his cheeks. I wanted to hug him. All I could do was to lay my hand on his shoulder and murmur, "Of course, I do."

He lowered his head and his body was racked with sobs. I hated not being able to comfort him. To hug him.

--One year ago--

In the spring of my final year there was a three day break--five days including the weekend. The sem had scheduled a field trip to Chicago. There was a special exhibition of paintings from Raphael through Caravaggio. The field trip was to be three days and two nights. Normally we would have been billeted at one of the local seminaries, but they were all booked. One of the members of the board of Trustees owned a small hotel and he donated the rooms for the sem's use. He got some sort of special dispensation, I assume.

We had to pay for the bus and our meals -- an expense I could afford.

Fr. Dominic and Fr. Ambrose were the leaders -- as well as chaperones, I assumed. When we arrived we were told that we would be two-to-a-room, but the rooms were all twin bed rooms. When the assignments were read out, I was pleasantly surprised when Fr. Dominic read out, "Jose Ramirez-y-Fuentes and Joseph Hendriks, room 304."

I glanced at Fr. Dominic who was looking at me with a studied expression. I quickly glanced away as José retrieved the room key, I grabbed by canvas bag and went to the elevator. As the elevator door closed my eyes again came into contact with Fr. Dominic's and that same studied expression.

"The same room. What luck!" Jose stated as he threw his bag on the bed nearest the window.

"Not sure it was luck," I murmured.

"Whatta ya mean?"

"Nothing."

Luckily José did not pursue the issue.

"I get the shower first," José declared.

We showered, changed and were in the lobby in twenty minutes. Most of the other seminarians were milling about deciding on where they would eat dinner. Our choices were limited to our budgets.

A few minutes later Fr. Ambrose and Fr. Dominic appeared.

"If anybody likes Italian, there's a small restaurant a block away that won't strain our budgets," Fr. Ambrose announced. "If anybody wants to join Fr. Dominic and me, we'd be happy for the company."

A few of us followed the two priests to 'La Dolce Vita.'

"What a name," Fr. Ambrose quipped, "And for a bunch of priests!"

All laughed and I thought I caught Fr. Dominic glancing towards me with that now familiar studied expression.

Quickly a couple of waiters assembled two tables that would seat the seven of us. We ordered and had a festive, animated dinner. Frs. Ambrose and Dominic sprang for two bottles of wine.

Later, As José and I exited the elevator, Fr. Dominic, whose room was on the floor above, stated, "Good night, gentlemen. Sleep well."

"Thank you. You too, Father."

"This is so hard, being close to you like this," José stated later as I had exited the bathroom and my evening shower.

I had not an iota of thought or desire regarding our coming together on this field trip. Yet, the close proximity that we found ourselves in flipped a switch in my mind. Since our returning from our vacation, I had grown used to being with José and sublimating my desire, my yearnings. But, here? Something in me caused an uncharcteristic response.

Turning to him, I said with a smile, "I know what you mean," as I dropped my towel.

José's mouth gaped as he instantly saw my roaring hard cock.

"You horny Deutschman."

"Dutchman," I corrected.

"What ever!"

We were trembling with the passion each found in ourselves and in the other as we embraced. José sat up, bracketing my hips, looked into my eyes and gasped, "Joseph Hendriks, I love you."

I smiled, grasped his face and brought his lips to mine. I should have been surprised at his utterance, but I wasn't. My feelings for José, too, were growing. But I wasn't quite ready to make that declaration. However, in the process of kissing him, his ass crack's lightly hairy surface slid over my now imprisoned, hard cock.

"Mmmmm," escaped from my lips and I involuntarily flexed my hips.

He sat back up and rotated his hips knowingly, forward and backward over my steamy member a number of times.

"Ahhh!" I uttered as I looked at him with passion glazed eyes.

Still he continued until my hips began to flex in concert with his.

Suddenly he jumped off the bed, disappeared into the bathroom and in an instant returned carrying a bottle of Intensive Care. He resumed his former position but not before anointing my rampant tool with a copious amount of the lotion. The sensation as his hand slid back and forth over my hard, lubed dick was wonderful. Then he sat back down upon my steaming cock. We continued this incredible frottage for a few minutes -- filled with groans and gasps.

Then Josésat up, re-anointed his fingers and reached behind himself.

"What are you doing?" I gasped.

He did not answer in his deep concentration. Then he grasped my quivering cock and ran its head back and forth in his ass crack.

"Ahhh!" I uttered. The sensatiuon was not only new, it was indescribable.

I felt a pressure on my steely member as he lowered himself. Suddenly, the head of my cock was engulfed, encircled as its flared edge popped into his muscled gate. It was the most sensuous feeling that I had ever felt.

José groaned and winced.

Suddenly I realized what was happening. "NO!"

Instantly he bent over and covered my mouth with a warm moist kiss.

"José, no!" then, "Why?"

Silently, José lowered his frame all the way down on me and I slid into delicious oblivion!

"Ahhhh!" issued from both of us.

He began to pump up and down, fondling his own rampant cock at the same time.

The feeling of being in him was incredible. My orgasm was unbelievable! I was breathless. Obviously José's orgasm was too! He was breathless as well. He fell forward on my spattered torso. I enfolded him in my arms and we both quickly fell into a deep sleep.

Some time later, I was gently roused out of my sleep as I felt José sit up. I opened my eyes and gazed into his.

"I love you," I stated simply.

He smiled and bent forward to kiss me. As he did so my softened member slipped out of its warm confinement. We both groaned, lightly.

Gently he moved off my body, grasped my hand and we walked to the bathroom for a much needed shower.

We had never showered before. I marveled at the warm intimacy that simple act afforded. We bathed ourselves and each other tenderly.

Later we laid in each other's arms on that narrow bed. It was only then that we spoke.

"Can I ask you a question?"

"Yes," he stated.

"Had you . . . done that . . . before?"

"No," came the simple answer.

"Why, then?"

"I don't know . . . I just wanted to."

My knowledge . . . my sexual repertoire was meager to say the least, actually almost nonexistent. I was an absolute novice in things sensual. To that point, our comings together had been manual and orally oriented. I, of course, was vaguely aware of what anal intercourse involved, but I never had contemplated the sensations that it might engender in me and certainly never considered the physical impact on my partner. Frankly, the few times it had ever crossed my conscious mind, it was with a mild sense of distaste. However, the act, from my standpoint, there in the Chicago hotel room was exceedingly pleasurable.

"What did it feel like?"

"Mmmm. A little . . . ahh . . . uncomfortable . . . at first."

"Then?"

"Quite nice."

We held each other close.

"How did it feel to you?"

"Wonderful." It would be only later that I would explain to him how my orgasm was so intense I thought I would pass out!

" José, have you . . . umm . . . have you ever . . . done it . . . to another . . . guy?"

"Yeah."

"Ah, then that's why you knew what to do!"

"Yeah, sort of."

"Sort of? What does that mean?"

He chuckled. "Well, a year ago I was in this book store and came across The Joys of Gay Sex. I read about it in there."

"The Joys of Gay Sex! There is such a book?"

He laughed out loud and answered, "Yep, and illustrated too!"

I contemplated what he had said, "So you planned all this tonight?"

"No!" he stated, "The situation just came up . . ." Then he giggled, "Actually, something quite hard, something quite obdurate came up!"

I immediately grasped the double entendre and pinched him.

"Ow!"

"So you blame it on me, do you?"

"Every delicious minute!"

We slept soundly that night. A sleep of recognition, although I was yet to realize that, consciously.

The exhibition was a marvel. The Caravaggio's were so impressive. While looking at one, the Young St. John the Baptist, José murmured, "Too handsome to be a saint . . . almost . . . sexy."

"Yeah," I said, then added with a smirk, "Reminds me of you."

"Shit!" saying that, he punched me in the shoulder and walked away.

I laughed and turned in the opposite direction. A few paces away stood Fr. Dominic. He was smiling. I walk up to him and stated, "Father, these paintings are . . . marvelous."

"Yes. That they are, Joseph."

I had showered first that night. I was laying on my bed when José emerged from the bathroom, swathed in a towel, running his fingers through his hair.

"Mmmm, My sexy Essene," I said with a smile.

He stepped between our two beds, turned, faced me and dropped his towel.

In its softened state the silken, pliable skin looked like the softest, finest chamois. It was the color of light, honey taffy and appeared translucent. Fine, pale blue veins could be detected just below the surface. The head was covered with an ample hood. It concealed the bulbous head, ending in a short, slightly frilled extension, which remained open, naturally.

I reached for it and fondled its silky softness. Our times together engendered a certain boldness in me. I raised up, opened my lips and took his soft dick all, into my mouth.

"Ahhh," he groaned as he stepped closer.

I could feel the marvelous muscle expand within the confines of my mouth. Without disgorging that distending, knobbed shaft, I swung my legs over the edge of the bed, bracketing José's, clasped his firm ass cheeks and began to move on and off his cock.

"Jeeze," he gasped, "Where did you learn to do that?"

Pulling off, I looked up at him and stated, "From a sexy Puerto Rican I know." I glanced back to the object of my present fascination. In pulling off, the ample foreskin had encased the bulbous glans. I snaked my tongue out and explored that opening.

"Ahhh, Jeeze," he groaned.

My tongue insinuated itself under that silken cover. Then, I reveled in the feel of that swollen, quaking muscle as it slid back and forth across my lips. My tongue flitted over its surface as if trying to memorize every square millimeter. Even more, I basked in the response that my ministrations engendered in José . He groaned and I could feel his whole being tremble.

Minutes later, a quaking, a spasming overtook José's body.

"I'm gonna cum," he gasped.

My first reaction was to pull off as I had the other times and watch the miraculous high arching gush of opalescent ejaculate. I did not. I continued.

"I'm gonna cum!" he stated, again, more insistantly.

I detected an increase in girth of his imprisoned cock.

"AHHHHH!"

José's cock jerked in my mouth and I was flooded with his juice. I fought not to gag. I fought not to swallow. But, I did gag a little and I did swallow, a little!

Within a short time his spasming ceased and he fell back onto his bed. His moistened cock waving in the air.

I hurried to the bathroom where I spat, rinsed my mouth and re-entered the bedroom. He was sprawled on the bed, legs spread and arms flung to the side. His rampant tool was now considerably subdued as it lulled, thighward, to the left.

Wordlessly, I maneuvered him under the covers, turned off the light and slid in beside him. He was on his side, so I assumed the same position and cuddled up against him. His arm encircled my chest and pulled me closer. We slept that way the whole night.

Early in the morning, I rose out of my deep slumber. I felt José's warmth. As I arrived at full wakefulness, I was also aware that José's considerable, piss-hard cock was wedged into the cleft of my ass. I moved, slightly. There was a quiet moan and José slipped closer to me again, insinuating his exuberant pole back again into its former location. I lay there cataloguing that sensation as well as what a conscious ending might be like.

I could no longer ignore my piss-hard thing, so I quickly maneuvered myself out of his luxurious grasp and went to the bathroom.

We returned to the sem the next day. This brief holiday brought to the fore, for me at least, one issue that I needed to confront.

The next Friday, during my usual weekly meeting/confession with Fr. Dominic, I confessed my transgressions briefly and without explanation. Fr. Dominic was less forthcoming, quieter, less probing than in our previous sessions. I think that he was aware of the momentous battle that was raging within me.

All he said was, "I think, Joseph, that this situation is most difficult, troubling for you."

"Yes, Father, it's all that I have been thinking about."

"And, have you reached any decision?"

"Not quite."

José and I walked quite a distance that night before either of us spoke. He was the first to break the silence.

"Saw Fr. Frederic today . . . "

"And?"

"I don't know, Joe, kinda wish Fr. Dominic was my confessor. Fr. Frederic's from another planet! Fr. Dominic seems, from what you have said, a lot easier, or at least more . . . understanding, not as threatening."

"He threatened you?"

"Not in so many words . . . but as far as the question of chastity is concerned, he is adamant. And, as to our . . . situation . . . he becomes almost . . . rabid. Couple of times I thought that he would start foaming at the mouth!"

As the year's end loomed I had arrived at a decision that was, for me, most difficult. I had alluded to it several times during our evening walks with José. But, it was a decision that I had to make, alone. I knew not the consequences.

"Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned . . ." I listed my transgressions since my last confession. Venial sins, all of them.

Never, since that first time in the library . . . that aberrant 'connection,' did José and I ever come together on campus. It was only when we were away from the sem that we joined, sexually.

At the end came the incantation, "In the name of the Father, the Son . . . . I absolve you of your sins. Go in peace."

I hesitated.

"Is there something else, Joseph?" he asked sensing my dilemma.

"Yes, Father, I have arrived at a decision."

"Oh? And, what might that be?"

"I have decided, Father, not to take my final vows. Not to become a priest."

He closed his eyes and sighed. "Are you sure of this decision, Joseph?"

"Yes, Father."

"And, what will you do, Joseph?"

"I have decided to pursue a masters, possibly in social work."

He nodded his head.

"I cannot say that I am totally surprised, Joseph. But, to my mind, I think the Church will be less for your decision.!

That night I related to José my decision and my informing Fr. Dominic.

He was silent. He was not too surprised. We had discussed briefly, tentatively our concerns, the situation that we found ourselves in.

Finally, he stated, quietly, "I am arriving at a decision too . . . "

José's call to the vocation had been one that he had felt for a number of years. Mine was less elemental.

"Similar . . . but different," was all he said.

I took a few days off and went to my sister Mary's. She lived in my home town. I needed to tell my family of my decision. I had been close to Mary and Bert, but Frank Jr., Harald and Julia, less so. Still I needed to tell them.

Mary met me at the station. We hugged and quickly fell into our usual animated conversation. Mary had always been easy to talk to.

As we entered her apartment, she demanded, with a twinkle, "To what do I owe this unexpected visit?"

"You have a beer?"

"Yes, but don't tell me you came all the way here for a beer!"

"No," I said with a wan smile. "There's something I need to tell you."

I had always been able to talk to Mary. Maybe it was because I was her closest sibling. Frank Jr. and Harald were some years older and although there was great affection between all the children, Mary and I seemed to be able to communicate the easiest. But, my impending announcement brought a look of concern to her eyes.

"Do you think Bert could come over for supper?"

Bert and his small family lived in the next town, a short distance away.

"Sure," she said, "I'll call him." And, without any more queries Mary went to the phone and made the arrangements.

"Now! What's all this mystery about?"

I simply stated, "I'm leaving the seminary!"

Her eyebrows arched, "Why?"

I related all to her, including my newly discovered preference, my association with José. She sat across from me quietly and absorbed all with an equinimity that was common to her. Her face mirrored concern, but its composure indicated no pain or disgust. She was able to mask that, if it existed at all!

"I assume, that this is not a snap decision," she stated, and then added, "Your leaving the seminary."

"No," I admitted, "I have been wrestling with my decision for a long time."

"Hmmm." Then, she quietly asked, "Joe, when did you become aware of . . . . your . . . . preference?"

"A couple of years ago."

"Are you sure of your . . . feelings?"

"Yes."

Mary got up, sat next to me on the sofa and hugged me tightly.

"This must have been really difficult for you."

I nodded my head.

"Well, you know, it makes no difference to me . . . . either revelation." Then she added, "You are my brother and I love you."

"Thanks," was all I could say in absolute relief. "I hope the rest will be as understanding."

"Well, Bert will be, I'm sure. But, I don't know about the others. Frank and Harald are pretty up tight and conservative. Julia has her own issues."

"What issues?"

"Ummm! She and Tom are having problems . . . . think their marriage will not last!"

Mary was right. Bert and Amy, his wife, were surprised at my leaving the seminary. They were dumbfounded at the other revelation. Bert's credulity was strained, but in the end he grudgingly accepted that fact. Amy was silent after Joe revealed his preference.

Joe called his other three siblings from Mary's apartment and related his news. Phones are never the way to communicate such information. Frank, Harald and Julia took the news of his leaving the seminary with some concern, bordering on disbelief since he only had a couple of months before graduation. But his other disclosure was met with icy shock and silence. They would, in time, come to accept their brother's preference but they could never embrace it.

A week later, José announced, "I'm going away for a few days. I'll be back Thursday night."

"Oh? OK."

Since our first conscious joining in San Juan, we, or at least. I had become more open about my feelings. Yet, there were still those areas that I and we kept to ourselves, sometimes alluding to them. Our intended vocation was one of them. I assumed that José was going on retreat as I had done those months before.

The next Friday, we took our usual evening walk. The night before we had not. José did not return to campus until late Thursday night. I saw him for the first time at breakfast that day. He was unusually quiet. I had noticed that over the past few months there was a slight change in his character. He had become more serious, less voluble.

"Joe, I've made a decision."

"Yes," I uttered quietly.

"I'm transferring to . . . St. Andrew's."

"St. Andrew's?" I was incredulous, and added, "You're leaving the . . . priesthood?" That surprised me. José's calling, his vocation had been deep and real. It must have been an agonizing decision for him to give up the priesthood. For me, it was less traumatic.

"No," he murmured.

"I don't understand!"

He stopped, turned to me and stated. "Ever since I've been young, I've wanted to be a priest. Don't ask me why, I just did. My . . . my love . . . for you has not changed that! I know The Church says that a gay man can become a priest . . . as long as he remains . . . absolutely celibate. I can not! I will not, particularly where you are concerned. I love you, I want you. But, I am . . . I will be a priest."

We was silent for a few seconds. The import of this revelation was beginning to insinuate itself into my conscious mind. St. Andrew's was an Episcopal school and seminary. I was aporetic.

"But, St. Andrew's is . . . ."

"Joe, my love, I'm leaving The Church. I have been accepted at St. Andrew's. I will be ordained in one year." This statement was uttered quietly but with utter assurance.

I was poleaxed! Shocked beyond response.

"But . . . but . . . " was all that issued from my mouth.

Later when the shock became somewhat less, I asked, "Have you told anyone?"

"Only you . . . and Fr. Frederic, this morning."

"What did he say?" I asked with concern.

"Only that I was condemning my immortal soul to utter damnation!" José stated that as if uttering an invective.

I shook my head in disbelief at such a statement, particularly in this situation. Quietly, I asked, "What did you say?"

"Only that he faced the same danger!"

"YOU DIDN'T!"

He merely nodded his head.

The next week was the week before finals. The campus, as normal at that time, assumed a somewhat tense aura bordering on the surreal. Strangely, on the other hand, José and I were rather at ease. In both our cases a most difficult hurdle had been approached and cleared, but not without considerable apprehension.

We both went to the administration of the seminary separately, and announced our decisions. My proclamation was duly noted with only a modicum of concern. It was not unusual for seminarians to withdraw or not take the final vows. I was later to find out that somewhat less than half of the original enrollees finished and took final vows. From time to time, I became aware of not seeing one or another of my class mates. "They've left," was the answer to my question. Their exit was quiet and un announced.

I had run into Fr. Dominic, mid week, and we chatted.

"Ah, Joseph. I assume, as usual, you are prepared as usual for your . . . finals."

"Yes, Father," I smiled.

"You have always been a most conscientious student." Then he added, "I shall miss you . . . and our . . . Ah . . . discussions."

"I shall miss you too, Father."

"Um . . . I hear that your . . . ah . . . friend, José Ramirez-y-Fuentes is also leaving the priesthood."

I was a bit surprised. Fr. Dominic had never referred to José, although I seriously suspected from the Chicago field trip, that he was aware of our association. He had been most circumspect.

I offered a wan smile and stated, quietly, "No, Father. José still wants to be a priest . . . but he does not feel that it would be possible in The Church."

"So the rumor that he's leaving The Church . . . is true?"

"Yes, Father."

"And, you, Joseph? Are you leaving The Church?"

"No, Father . . . just the priesthood."

He shook his head and stated soto voce, "What a waste. What a tragic loss."

I felt that I needed to say, "Father, I am leaving the priesthood because I would not be able to be true to all the vows. I am not leaving The Church. I realize that my calling was of the minor variety. With José, his vocation, his calling is paramount. He feels that he was meant to be a priest." I hesitated, briefly. "Neither he nor I felt that we could be true to the priestly vows of The Church. If we denied our feelings for each other, our love for each other, we would be denying The Source."

He closed his eyes and quietly nodded his head.

Then, he said, "Joseph, you shall always be in my prayers. I shall pray for you, for success in your chosen field . . . and for joy in your . . . ah . . . life."

"Thank you, Father."

Then, as an after thought, "Oh, Joseph, by the way, it might interest you and José to know the Fr. Frederic is leaving the campus and taking Orders . . . Ah . . . Trappist, I believe."

I can't say I was surprised, I can't say I was sorry.

"How apropos," I said, srcastically.

Fr. Dominic did not respond, other than to give me one of his inscrutible glances.

I finished my exams. José and I met for a brief weekend together before he went to St. Andrew's summer session. He needed to make up a number of requirements so that he could be ordained, a year hence.

It was a time in which we set aside the apprehension be both felt as we embarked on our new journey. It was a time of joy and passion.