against the works of the flesh//frerard

chapter twenty-two

The next day, Friday, Frank hands in his essay in his homeroom class and, although he grins confidently at his teachers, his heart beats fast through the rest of the day.

He goes to Father Way's house as soon as he gets out of school. He puts his bike by the stairs at the back of the house, running up the steps until he finds Father Way. He's sitting on the beanbag in the balcony, in jeans and a T-shirt, and he turns his head when Frank is still a few steps away from the balcony.

"Frank, what's wrong?" Father Way asks, sounding concerned. He gets up immediately and pulls Frank onto the balcony. Frank pants a little against him, breathless because his lungs are shitty when he has to climb any stairs, especially after riding his bike so fast.

He sighs. "We handed in our essay today and, well, I've been in this frenzy all day."

"Oh no, you need to relax. Everything is going to be fine. Your essay is flawless," Father Way consoles him and it works a little, except Frank's heart won't slow down. "You look like you're gonna have a heart attack. Come inside. You want some water or anything?"

Frank accepts a glass of water and sits at the kitchen table with his hands around it. He downs it in one slow go, finishing with a less frantic pant in his lungs. "Thank you," he says, as Father Way pours himself a mug of coffee. Frank has no idea how he can drink it like that, black, not even a hint of sugar. "This could also be related to what we need to talk about, since I'm a little worried about what you have to tell me."

"You don't have to worry," says Father Way, shaking his head. He wraps one big hand around his mug and gets up, offering Frank a soft smile. "Look, I might have just what you need."

He takes a small pause, always staring at Frank, like he means to create suspense. Frank doesn't tear his eyes away either, eager to know what it could be that Father Way wants to show him. "You wanna come see my peace corner?"

"What's that?" Frank inquires, frowning. He puts the glass on the table and gets up too.

"Well, it's this little corner in my bedroom where I sit down, or kneel down, and stay there in silence, contemplating the things that occupy my mind at the moment. I pray up there every morning and every night, too. I can do it just anywhere, but that small space makes me feel really peaceful. You could try it out, maybe it will help you calm down." Father Way explains this with an excited voice, but Frank shakes his head at the priest.

"I don't know if I should," he says, feeling really self-conscious right now. Father Way just invited him to a private place where he kneels down with his own mind and with God to cleanse his soul in meditation. "You said it's in your bedroom, and that's a private space."

"Yeah? Well, so are my pants and you've gotten into them," Father Way jokes, grinning.

No matter how funny Father Way tries to make it seem, Frank knows it's not the same thing. The bedroom might hide everything that defines Father Way as a person and maybe Frank shouldn't see that yet. "It's not the same thing," he says, blushing hard, but ends up agreeing in the end.

Father Way presses one hand against Frank's back, pushing him in the direction of the bedroom. Frank has never been in there, and the closest he's been to it was a knock on the door when he was looking for Father Way around the house. It was back in the days he was working on his essay and when things were still weird between them, after the first stolen kiss.

Things have evolved since then and Frank is happy about that. He feels curious about this room anyway, now that he's allowed in it. He shouldn't feel weird about it if Father Way doesn't mind letting Frank see his bedroom. Maybe it's nothing like Frank thinks.