MARIEL

2 ~Start Writing~

Jerome spat the last of the foamy toothpaste into the sink, washed his face, and then walked hurriedly to his car. He had checked his person multiple times to make sure he had the important items he needed before he decided he was overreacting. Nerves. They had not diminished for him even at the age of 53. In fact, from the time he was a child it seemed that he had always lived in a state of mild anxiety. Jerome believed it was not fitting for a priest-to-be, and he felt shame. As his father once said, he should give his anxieties to God. Most of the time, there was no sensible cause for him to feel anxious, but today was different. There was an acceptable reason.

Jerome reversed the white Buick from his driveway and drove down the street past the other suburban homes. He had been blessed with a comfortable and safe place to live, his appreciation directed to God and the good income from his former job as a theology professor at the University of Chicago. Now, he had a new calling, as he had been seeking the priesthood within the Eastern Orthodox Church for many years. He had temporarily left his home to attend seminary in New York.

They had questioned him intensely.

'And at fifty-three, is it your desire to marry before entering the priesthood?'

Jerome had hesitated, then softly replied, 'No.'

'Any reason why?'

Jerome had quickly shaken his head, shifting his eyes away from the Bishops speaking to him.

'Jerome. You can talk to us.'

Easier said than done. It was uncomplicated to say that he simply had no desire for marriage... but to admit that his only interest in companionship was in –

'Males', he uttered the word with no prior comment, staring at the trembling hands upon his lap. 'I experience same sex attraction.'

Silence, and then: 'Jerome, you do wish to follow the guidelines of the Church, correct?'

Jerome had endured multiple questions in the weeks to follow, but he convinced them fully that there was no temptation to act upon it, and that he had no desire for a relationship except that with the Church. He was confident in his will-power.

It took Jerome thirty minutes to reach his destination, mostly due to the downtown Chicago area traffic.

The building was hard to miss, especially with its large and flashy computerized sign blinking: Chicago Grand Hotel. It was a rusty red brick building, standing fifteen stories high. The Midwest Orthodox Diocese had held several church conferences in this building, all which Jerome had zealously attended. Now, it felt strange to come here for a completely different motive.

An American flag flapped tautly in the wind on the overhang of the entrance. Trying to control his racing heart, Jerome shivered as he approached the spinning doorway. With a forceful push, he swung the glass door and stepped into the lobby. Rapidly, his eyes darted around the room. Heels clicked on the marble floor, phones rang, and voices mingled as multiple people passed each other in the lobby. Water rushed from a small enclosed water fall in the center of the room, and nearby sat a self-playing piano, which played a soft, classical tone.

Clutching the straps of his backpack, he walked forward. He felt himself becoming more anxious as the seconds passed. He began to question the location, the person they said he would be meeting, the time the meeting was supposed to take place, if he had made some form of mistake.

Stop it. Jerome closed his eyes, took a breath, and opened them again. It was almost immediately that his blue eyes contacted the heavyset woman wearing a gray skirt suit and kitten heels. She was standing up from the seating area and waving a hand. Eagerly, he returned the wave and started across the lobby.