Love After Heaven

38 Guilt

Father Romy took the hosts gingerly in his hands. They were already consecrated, and he knew that dropping them to the floor would mean that he would commit sacrilege, the unforgivable sin. He closed the tabernacle door, genuflected, and faced the people lining up for communion.

For some days now, he felt bad handling and handing out the consecrated hosts. Nobody knew it, of course, but he was no longer in a state of grace. Last week, he had done what he had vowed never to do – kiss a woman.

Of course, she was no ordinary woman. He had Googled her name and discovered that she was not an ordinary principal of an elementary school. She had won an award for Outstanding Principal from a Non-Government Organization that specialized in giving awards. Of course, there was something odd about the award. She had to shell out money to attend the awarding ceremonies. It smelled of a scam. But the award being a scam or not, her being an Outstanding Principal looked good on her résumé.

She was known to be a no-nonsense principal. Nobody in school could disobey her, or her rules, no matter how arbitrary they were. No talking during recess. No eating after recess. No smiling during tests. No climbing the trees unless it was zoology class. No running on the grass unless it was football class. No lying down on the lawn unless it was astronomy class and it was night, which it never was, since school ended at 3 p.m. sharp. No texting, no calling, no playing on mobile phones. No nothing, really. Everybody was completely stifled and devoid of imagination and excitement. That was the way she liked the school – and life. Everything predictable. Everything in its place. No surprises. At least on Google.

Except that kiss. Father Romy could still taste her lips. That was silly, of course, because the kiss was a week ago. More precisely, it was six days, nineteen hours, and five minutes ago.

The boy stuck out his tongue. Father Romy put a host on the tongue of the boy. The man behind the boy, probably his father, cupped his hands, asking for the host to be put there instead of on his tongue. Father Romy obligingly placed a host on the man's cupped hands.

It was like this every Sunday, even every day. There were always a number of people that wanted to receive communion. He could not deny them their spiritual sustenance. Although he knew better. Theology had changed radically since the new pope did his latest encyclical. The more things changed, the more they remained the same. Father Romy's parishioners continued in their old ways. He could not disillusion them. He knew that, next to sacrilege, the greatest sin was scandal. Do not shatter the faith of those that believe in me, Father Romy could almost have heard God Himself one night when he was praying hard after reading yet another theology book.

Then, there she was, in line to receive communion – Julie, the principal.

He knew that he could not deny her communion. For all he knew, she had gone to confession and was now completely ready to receive the Lord. In any case, she was not to blame for the kiss. He had initiated it, and she was merely the passive receiver. Not too passive, he remembered, but still not the initiator. Not the sinner. Perhaps only the sinned against.

She opened her lips to receive the host. He saw those lips and wanted, not to put the host into her mouth, but his tongue.

He shook so violently that he collapsed on the floor, the consecrated hosts still in his hands.

"Oh my god!" shouted the women on the front pew.

"I'm a doctor," said a woman a few women behind Julie. "Let me through."

"I can give him CPR," said Julie, and knelt down beside Father Romy.