Playing with her priests, p.18
Playing With Her Priests, page 18
I nod.
“I gotcha bro. It’s just do you really want to be preaching that when we just solidified our triad? Maybe give it a little time so the matter doesn’t hit so close to home?”
But Jordan shakes his head.
“Naw, this is a universal topic, and it’s timely no matter what. Besides, who says they’re going to read into this? They probably just think we’re talking about gay marriage or transgender rights.”
I sigh. He’s probably right. Our flock likely won’t realize we’re talking about ourselves. After all, a lot of problems tend to be universal. Human beings have always struggled, and we’re here to serve as sounding boards and shepherds.
Now it’s Sunday, and my friend walks up to the pulpit as the assembly waits expectantly. He looks damn good, that’s for sure. His hair is slicked back, and he’s wearing a black suit with a black shirt underneath, making him look like an avenging angel. More than a few women gasp, fawning a bit.
Jordan begins to preach and it’s marvelous. His voice rises and dips, the flow of words magical. I can even see people swaying in their seat a bit, taken by his skilled rhetoric.
Yet, not everyone is in a trance. There are furtive glances at his left ring finger, and then furtive glances at mine as well. After all, these bands can only mean one thing. We didn’t announce an engagement nor a marriage, so what could be going on? Clearly, certain members of the congregation are curious.
Together, the parishioners bows their head in a final prayer, asking God to continue to show us the way and to bless our lives. In my head, I say a silent grace, thanking the Lord for bringing the beautiful Mira into my life.
The service ends on an amen, but when everyone starts filing out the whispers start. Damnit. I was right. Sounds like everyone is wondering what’s going on with our rings.
I greet my friend as he descends from the pulpit.
“You know, I didn’t think they’d be so wrapped up in our personal lives,” is my sardonic comment. “I thought we were all here to hear the word of God.”
Jordan shakes his head wryly.
“Yeah, but you know how the ladies can be sometimes. They’re here to hear the word of God, and to meet a man if possible.”
I chuckle because it’s true. There are a lot of single women in New York, and quite a few of them belong to the Village Church. So what if they peer around during services, scouting for eligible men? Church is as good of a place to meet someone as any bar or club. Probably better in fact, since there’s more of a chance they’ll share the same values.
But still, we have an issue at hand: is someone going to ask about our rings? If they do, what are we going to say?
At coffee hour, people still look at us and whisper, but no one directly approaches us. Instead, we mill about with coffee cups and donuts in hand.
“They are unusually shy today,” Jordan points out to me. I nod, taking a sip of my joe.
“Should we just address the elephant in the corner?” I ask with an arch of my eyebrow. “Could be easier.”
Jordan says nothing, merely glancing at Mira. She’s off in a corner, talking animatedly to her friend, Jessie. Our wife looks beautiful in a knee-length pastel pink dress, with white lace trimming the edges. It’s modest yet sexy at once, and my mouth waters just looking at her.
What to do? We haven’t actually discussed revealing our marriage, but then again, Mira is wearing a ring on her left hand now. Of course, since we only have simple bands, it’s impossible to draw any conclusions. Anyone could be wearing a band like this, even if they’re not married.
“Hi Pastor Jordan, hi Pastor Jason,” comes a voice. Jordan and I turn and see one of our parishioners, Lauren. She’s a nice girl with a sharp, peaked face and dirty blonde hair that’s way too long. Today, it hangs almost too her butt, making it look like stringy seaweed.
“Did anything happen this week?” she asks curiously.
“What do you mean?” I counter, my expression neutral.
Her eyes narrow even more. I know what she’s trying to get at, but I’m not about to fold that easily.
“Well, what did you two do?” she presses.
“We did a lot of things,” Jordan answers this time. I have to stifle my chuckle. It’s mean to play around like this, but it’s also rude to pry, so Lauren deserves it. She looks at us in a calculating manner.
“Well, was your week … um, exciting?” she hints.
I look at Jordan who looks back at me and shrugs.
“We tried out a new recipe for marinara. It came out pretty nice, and if you can get your hands on some newly ripe tomatoes, I’m happy to share my secret sauce with you,” Jordan responds with a wink. Lauren looks disgruntled, but she nods.
“Okay, okay. Gotcha. Great sermon today.”
She walks away, giving up on her quest. I do an internal eye roll, a little annoyed, but not upset. After all, she’s fishing for answers, which is human nature. Who wouldn’t be curious?
Maybe it’s time to just let everybody know.
Suddenly, someone else walks up. Ugh. It’s Violet, who often wears completely inappropriate outfits to church, and today is no exception. The girl has on a sequined mini-dress, like she just got out of a club. Plus, her make-up is smeared, adding to the “walk of shame” look.
“Hi, Pastor Jordan, Pastor Jason,” she coos. “I just wanted to know why you’re wearing those rings. Let me guess: are you guys gay and married to one another?”
She points to our hands and titters like she just heard a funny joke. Well, at least Violet’s being a lot more direct. There’s no beating around the bush with her.
“Give us a second,” I say calmly but Violet giggles again and scampers off before we can answer. I roll my eyes. Some people are just so immature.
Turning to my co-pastor, I raise an eyebrow.
“What should we do? Obviously, we’re getting the Inquisition.”
Jordan shrugs.
“Maybe we should tell them. I mean, now is as good as any other time and we can’t beat around the bush forever.” I look over at Mira and try to communicate what’s about to happen. That doesn’t work because we’re not telepathic, so I take out my phone to text her our plan. She looks down at her phone and then looks back up at me, nodding.
Wow, that was quick, but that’s all we need. The three of us are finally going to put all of the rumors to rest as a team.
I take a step forward and get the room’s attention by raising a hand.
“Hey everyone, if I could just get your attention for a moment. Pastor Jordan and I have some exciting news, and I hope you’ll join us in sharing our joy.”
The room goes almost completely quiet as people glance at one another. A few girls nod, and I’m sure they think we’re about to reveal that we’re a gay couple. Hardly.
“I’m guessing some of you are wondering about these rings on our fingers,” I say. The room starts to whisper, probably titillated by the admission that’s about to come. But then I throw them a curveball. “Mira could you come here?”
The whole room looks puzzled as she makes her way to the front. Her cheeks are the brightest red, and even her curls seem to be trembling. I know she said yes to telling everyone, but I also know that Mira doesn’t enjoy being the center of attention. Unfortunately, it’s too late for that now.
She walks quietly to our sides, standing between the two of us.
“So, to answer the first question that may be on your minds, Jordan and I are not gay, not that there’s anything wrong with that. As you know, we welcome all types of people at the Village Church, and that includes gay, straight, trans, and gender queer individuals. If you’d like to be addressed as a certain pronoun, please feel free to let us know. I know the congregation is open-minded and we will do our best to address you by your preferred pronoun.”
Quite a few people nod their heads, murmuring quietly. I’m proud of this group because we do have a few transgender folks, and we do our best to respect their pronoun choices. It seems like a basic way to show tolerance, and I have no problem with any type of salutation.
But then Jordan continues.
“Gender pronouns aside, you’ve probably seen the rings on our fingers, and that’s because we have some amazing news to share. Last week, we got married to this beautiful girl standing between us, Mira Corcoran. As you know, Mira’s been with our church since last Fall, and she adores being a part of the Village. I hope you’ll welcome our relationship with open arms, and welcome Mira as a valued member of our community too.”
Shocked gasps sound all throughout the room. Then, it only takes a couple of seconds for the whispers to start. I’m not able to catch every word, but quite a few comments filter over to us.
“Are you fucking serious? Eeew.”
“Wait, I’m confused. Both of them married the girl? How is that possible?”
And the worst: “How can they do something so perverted? There is nothing godly about this.”
People are staring at us. Their eyes are filled with shock, disgust, and even worse, hate. How is that possible? Just a few moments ago, we were a congregation at peace, priding ourselves on tolerance. But now, it seems we’ve been riven by something major and decisive.
Plus, I’m worried about the effect of these malicious words on our wife. I look over at Mira and am immediately impressed. Her eyes are wet, but she keeps her head held high and her back straight. She’s proud to be married to us.
That’s our girl.
After the initial wave of shock, congregants start to leave, a lot of them giving us the side eye as they exit. At first, only a few people depart, but soon it becomes a mad rush as people grab their stuff and head for the doors, still whispering behind their hands. Mira looks at Jordan and me, her eyes panicked, but I merely shrug. I expected a bad reaction, and unfortunately, my expectations were met.
I wait until it looks like the last person who wants to leave has left. Only a smattering of parishioners remain, and it’s a little sad, to be honest. There are discarded cups and paper plates on the floor, as our remaining congregation mills about uneasily.
I look each and every person in the eye, my gaze firm and reassuring.
“Thank you all for your understanding. I realize this was a shock, but remember, we are all children of god, and tolerance and respect will see us through the most difficult times. We would love to chat with you more, but right now, I need to take care of my wife. We’ll see you next Sunday,” I say with a wave while departing. Mira and Jordan follow me, my wife’s lips pressed tightly together as Jordan takes her hand in his big one.
Slowly, we make our way to my office in the back, and enter the darkened space. The door shuts and I lean against the slab, letting out a long breath. Damn, that was harder than I thought. I knew there’d be some judgment, but I didn’t realize it’d be that harsh.
“I’m sorry,” Mira says in a plaintive voice. I stand up to throw a comforting arm on her shoulder.
“What are you apologizing for? You did nothing wrong, baby.”
She shakes her head.
“But I ruined everything. Because you fell in love with me, you lost so much of your church. I’ve destroyed your life’s work.”
“No,” Jordan adamantly responds. “You are not to blame for any of this. Just because people are ignorant and unwilling to accept us does not mean you have messed up. They’re the problem, not us. And our life’s work hasn’t been ruined. Why would you say that? We worked hard before, and we can work hard again. The only thing we’d ever be scared to lose is you.” Mira nods, but she bites her lip and I’m not sure she believes us. Clearly, there’s some self-doubt and she feels awful.
“Are you sure?” she asks hesitantly.
I can sense the pain in her voice and press a soft kiss against her lips.
“Of course I’m sure,” is my firm reply. “You mean the world to us sweetheart, and this is just a temporary setback. Don’t worry, we’ve faced a lot of these in our lives and come out perfectly fine.”
Mira still looks doubtful, but it’s okay. Soon, our wife will see the wisdom of our words, and that this is only one challenge among many. These next few months will be hard, but as long as we stick together, love will show us the way.
18
Mira
Watching everyone leave the room was heartbreaking and tears came to my eyes as I stared mutely at the departing crowd. Barely anyone stayed. They filed out like their pastors had just announced they had murdered people, and were now in the process of escaping jail. I knew that it would hard for people to hear about Jason and Jordan’s relationship with me, but I didn’t think it would be that shocking.
After all, there are so many scandals all the time within religious institutions. Pastors who enrich themselves, becoming billionaires. Pastors who wear designer sneakers which cost thousands of dollars, when their parishioners are scrambling for food. And don’t even get me started on the Roman Catholic Church; I admire and respect Pope Francis, but the RCC will be facing litigation for ages.
So why is our triad such a problem? We’re in love. We respect one another, and I’m not being coerced in any way. Plus, Jason and Jordan preach tolerance almost every Sunday. I guess it’s in one ear and out the other.
Now, the three of us are squirreled away in Jason’s office. Thankfully, no one has followed us back here, so we can let go and relax a little bit in solitude. Emotions are running high and tears fill my eyes again.
My husbands are trying to reassure me that everything will be okay, but I’m not sure if I believe them. Not after seeing that how there was a mad rush for the doors. I mean, can their careers recover from this? Is it possible?
“Come on, Mira. We should probably go home. Let’s lock up and get out of here,” Jason says.
The three of wander through the church, locking up where we need to. We tidy a few things and then leave with heavy hearts.
The walk home is a somber one. All of this has been harder than I expected, but what really got to me was seeing Jessie’s face when she realized where I’d been this past week.
After all, I’ve been avoiding Jessie. I spent very little time in our suite, and merely chalked it up to my new guys. I never told her who they were, and I know she definitely didn’t suspect our pastors. That would shock anyone, come to think of it.
I was hoping that Jessie would be one of the ones who stayed behind, but she left with the others. Her eyes met mine quickly before she turned, her shoulders hunching. And then suddenly, she was gone and my heart broke just a little.
We get back to the apartment, and I go straight for the couch. I’ve been holding back tears the whole time we were out in public, but I can’t do it anymore. The tears flow as I sob, gripping a cushion to my chest.
“Mira.” I feel a gentle hand on my back, trying to console me. I don’t know who it is, and, honestly, I don’t care right now. I’m just too sad about what’s transpired.
“Mira, Mira,” they say while rubbing my back, a second hand joining the first.
My cries subside a bit, and I wipe my nose noisily. I’m sure I look like a mess. Hesitantly, I glance up at husbands, still sniffling.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that,” I manage, trying to regain my composure.
“Done what? You did nothing wrong, sweetheart. It’s not wrong to cry, and we totally understand that coming out to the congregation was hard. Maybe we shouldn’t have them told exactly like that, but it had to come sooner or later.”
I sniffle again.
“That’s not why I’m crying. I’m crying because those people are fakes,” I say with a quiver of rage in my voice. “They make themselves out to be good Christians, but they’re not at all.”
Jordan and Jason shake their heads.
“Sweetheart, give them time. We were shocked too by the outflow, but then again, our congregation hasn’t shunned us. I know it looks like they have, but it’s not true. Give them time, and they’ll come back.”
I shake my head tearfully.
“I don’t know,” is my trembling voice. “A lot of people were whispering maliciously and throwing me dirty looks. It was like I was some kind of Judas who’d just stabbed Jesus in the back, it was that bad.”
Jason shakes his head again, his voice soothing.
“I already told you, you did nothing wrong. Jordan and I should have handled it better, and not at a coffee hour. Come to think of it, what were we thinking bro?” he asks his friend. “We kind of fucked up.”
Jordan merely shrugs.
“Well, we can’t take it back now. The information’s out there, and we just have to see where the pieces lie. It’s going to be fine, honey,” he says to me again. “Just give it a little time.”
Jason and Jordan sit on either side of me. I rest my head on one of their shoulders, taking deep gulping breaths. We merely stay silent for a moment, quiet and reflective. Slowly, the sun sets outside and the room darkens as dusk fills the air.
My emotional state stabilizes a bit, but I still take a big, shuddering inhale. My mind feels mushy and my psyche fragile.
“Are you okay, sweetheart?” Jason asks.
“Yeah,” I nod. I look between the two of them and smile. It’s been a hard day, but, like both of my husbands have said many times, as long as we stay together, we can get through anything. I just need to keep my head up.
“Are you sure?” Jordan asks gently, stroking the back of my hand with his thumb.
“I will be. I just needed a good cry, I guess.” After all, today was a bump in the road. Those happen, and I’ve already had many in my life. I just need to keep on keeping on, like Jessie would say.
But for now, I’m going to enjoy my time with my husbands.
“We should eat,” I say in a trembling voice before going over to the kitchen and starting to riffle though the cabinets. “Are you guys hungry?”
If I keep busy, it should be enough to at least get me through the rest of this day. Both men smile, so handsome on the couch, and yet gentle and forgiving too.
