Stepping Out in Faith

Dear Reader,

Thanks for the great comments. I'm so glad that you like this story. Here's chapter two, hope you like this one just as much. Please let me know!

Yours,

Hudson Bartholomew

*****

Stepping Out in Faith - Chapter 2

Andy was hit by a wall of sound and sweat as he stepped inside the nightclub one week later. He had spent the entire week since the disastrous baseball game incident trying to decide if he should come here. It was clear that Marcus was angry and for some reason that knowledge weighed heavily on Andy's heart. But now that he was here, he wasn't so sure this was a good idea.

Andy scanned the room, trying to look for that head of curly black hair in a sea of bodies. He hadn't really thought through this plan, he realized. It was going to be next to impossible to find someone in here.

"Hey there, sweetie. Can I get you something?" A waif of a boy with shocking pink hair, wearing nothing but a pair of sparkly short shorts asked Andy while holding a waiter's tray.

"Um... No, I'm fine. Thank you."

"Well, let me know if you'd like anything...

Anything at all

." The look in the boy's eyes suggested he wasn't just referring to some beverage. And the way he brushed his body against Andy's as he walked past made the message abundantly clear.

Andy coughed awkwardly and stepped away. This was turning in a bad idea.

Andy slowly squeezed his way through a crowd of bodies, telling himself to at least make one circuit of the room before bailing. Sweaty skin rubbed up against him, pressed into him. The smell of man filled his nostrils, reminding him of the last time he had been on this dance floor with Marcus. He made the mistake of wandering too close to the speaker and blaring music rang in his ears, the bass reverberating through his body.

Andy's own sweat was forming on his brow, wetting his hair, rolling down his back. He brushed the wet strands back off his forehead with a hand and froze in mid-motion as he caught sight of Marcus.

Marcus was standing with another man, close to the other man. They were whispering in each other's ears and laughing out loud. They looked like mimes as the music drowned out the sound of their voices. They looked like beautiful mimes, dressed in tight jeans and t-shirts, hair perfectly coifed.

Andy swallowed thickly, realizing that he was out of his league. His baggy clothes were soaked with sweat, his hair mussed from running his hands through them. He was an idiot to think that Marcus would be upset over what had happened. Marcus was a gorgeous man, he could have anyone he wanted and he had clearly found someone just as gorgeous to spend the night with.

Andy was about to turn and walk out when Marcus suddenly caught sight of him. The happy look on his face disappeared into a scowl. Now, Andy

really

wanted to run. Instead, Andy stood rooted to the spot, staring at Marcus as he stared back.

The other man followed Marcus' gaze until he saw Andy and realized what was happening. He glared at Andy, but then said something to Marcus and turned to walk away.

Andy continued to stand there as Marcus made his way closer. There was that look again, the one that reminded Andy of a predator. His heart leapt into his throat, watching Marcus' slow saunter, hips swaying, shoulders rolling.

Marcus didn't stop at arm's length, but came right up until only an inch of air separated them. By then, the rest of the club had faded away and it was just the heat and presence of Marcus that consumed and surrounded Andy.

That smell. Andy took a deep breath and held that spicy, cinnamon scent in his lungs before letting it out slowly.

Marcus leaned in and for a split second Andy thought he was going to kiss him. Andy parted his lips in anticipation until Marcus paused, just millimeters away.

"What the fuck are you doing here?"

Andy stepped back as if he'd been slapped in the face.

He took a couple of calming breaths and shook his head to clear the fog that fill his mind whenever Marcus was near.

"I... I wanted to explain."

"I think you explained just fine."

"No! That was... Please, I just need to explain."

The look in Marcus' eyes was so dark that Andy was sure he'd be turned away again. But then, to his surprise, Marcus sighed and rolled his eyes.

"Why do I always do this to myself?" He asked, more to himself than to Andy.

Marcus gave Andy a measured look.

"Fine, so explain."

"Um... Well, it's kind of complicated." Andy glanced at the crowd around him. He really hadn't thought this through. Had he really expected to have this conversation in the middle of a night club?

"Yeah, I figured that much," Marcus sighed. "Look, this obviously isn't a good time for this. You like kids, right?"

"Huh?"

"Kids, teenagers. You get along well with them? You were with a group of them at the ball game. Next Thursday night, 6:30. If you want to explain, meet me at the LGBT Center in the Village. You can explain then."

Marcus gave Andy one last look, it was that hungry look that made Andy's heart skip a beat. But before Andy could respond, Marcus spun on his heel and walked away.

Andy sighed, watching Marcus disappear through the crowds. Things never seem to turn out as he planned when it came to Marcus.

He needed Marcus to understand. He couldn't explain why the feeling was so strong, but it felt like a compulsion, like an instant reaction to try to catch a falling glass before it hit the ground. Waiting until Thursday felt like watching the glass fall in slow motion; Andy was reaching for it, but couldn't tell if he'd reach it in time.

The whole thing didn't make much sense to Andy. In all his years, he had never wanted to tell anyone about his proclivities. In fact, he'd done everything he could to hide. So why did he suddenly want to confess it all now?

But he had a bigger problem—the LGBT Center. Just the thought of it was doing a number on his nerves. If he went there, then people would know. To be fair, people already knew. But at the Center, people outside the dark, shadowed night club would know. At the Center, he would be out in the light. That didn't sit well with Andy's stomach.

Andy wandered the streets, not ready to go home and hoping the night air would settle his nerves. If he was smart, he would stay as far away from that Center as possible. But staying away just didn't seem like an option anymore.

The priesthood, his vow of celibacy—it had once seemed like the solution, the hope that he clung to for salvation. Now, it felt like a boulder tied around his neck. Some days it was so heavy that Andy could barely get out of bed.

He didn't hate being a priest. In fact, he really enjoyed it. He enjoyed working with people, counseling them, helping them find peace in the Lord. He just wished he could find the same peace he was always telling others about. He wished he could find the contentment that came with knowing that even though the world is a sinful, fallen place, everything would eventually be okay because the Lord held everything in His hand.

But Andy didn't know that everything would be okay. In fact, he felt like he was waiting for his carefully constructed life to fall apart. And something told him that showing up at that LGBT Center was going to be the beginning of the end.

Andy shook his head. Who was he kidding? The beginning of the end was when he'd shown up at the club all those weeks ago and let Marcus take him home. Because ever since that night, he hadn't been able to fall asleep without remembering the feel of Marcus' lips on his, the heat of his skin, the taste of him. Every night, Andy laid in bed, hard and aching, trying to resist the urge to stroke himself while imaging it was Marcus' lips on him.

More than once he had gotten out of bed after laying there for hours to kneel before the altar in the sanctuary. He prayed. He prayed with all his heart to be rid of those feelings, to be relieved of the burden. He prayed for peace, for that stillness that he was told comes from being in the presence of the Lord.

Often, it'd only be after an intense prayer session that he'd finally fall asleep, exhausted. The next day, he'd wake up and do it all again.

Sometimes he wondered whether it was all worth it. Maybe it'd just be easier to just give up and leave the priesthood. That would certainly be better than this sneaking around he'd resorted to. But the thought of leaving the church terrified him. The church was the only thing he knew, it was his rock, it was what made his life make sense. He couldn't leave. He'd just have to find another way.

"Father Dylan!"

Andy looked up to see an older man with greying hair walking down the sidewalk toward him. He tensed and wondered if he had a guilty look on his face.

"Father Sullivan," Andy addressed the older man whom he worked and lived with, hoping his voice didn't shake.

"Father Dylan," the older man smiled. "You've been out this evening?"

"Yes, just a walk around the neighborhood," Andy answered, avoiding his eyes. "Please, after you."

They had reached the steps to the brownstone kept by the parish for their housing and Andy followed Father Sullivan up the stairs, suddenly struck with curiosity.

"Father Sullivan, do you mind if I ask you a question? It's kind of personal."

"Certainly, what's on your mind?"

Andy hesitated, not quite sure how to put his thoughts into words. He waited until they were inside and seated at the kitchen table, Father Sullivan moving around to make his evening tea.

"How... How did you know you wanted to be a priest?"

Father Sullivan paused and glanced at Andy in surprise.

"I was just curious," Andy said in a rush. "You don't have to answer if you don't want."

"No, no. It's alright. It's just that sometimes I forget that I'm a priest."

"You forget?"

"Yes," Father Sullivan smiled. "I wanted to be a fighter pilot when I was kid; sometimes I still do."

"A fighter pilot?" Andy could not picture kind, gentle Father Sullivan as a high flying fighter pilot.

"Yes. But it didn't work out because you can't wear glasses and be a fighter pilot," Father Sullivan said, pointing to his gold metal frames. "I did end up getting my pilots license, though. Even worked as a commercial pilot for a while."

"Really? You were a pilot before you became a priest?"

"Oh, sure. I was in my 40s when I went back to get my Master of Divinity. I've only been doing this for 20 years." Father Sullivan's brow creased in realization. "Hm, that sounds like a long time. But it doesn't feel like a long time when you're my age, I guess."

"So why'd you want to be a priest? You didn't like being a pilot?"

"Flying planes was fun. It was exhilarating. But..." Father Sullivan sighed, eyes lost as he sorted through his memories.

"I had a close call one time. It really shook me, more than it should have as a pilot. It was hard getting back into the cockpit after that. But I kept at it, even when I was in no mental shape to do so. I used to have to have a drink right before I flew or my hands would shake uncontrollably."

Father Sullivan looked at Andy with a wistful smile.

"I realized that being a pilot had become my entire world. I didn't know who I was unless I was flying. And I thought that if I couldn't fly anymore, then I would just be nobody. That was a frightening way to live, always waiting for the day I couldn't fly anymore, afraid of crashing the plane, afraid of being found out. I was constantly looking over my shoulder for some boogeyman to jump out at me.

"It wasn't until my priest at the time convinced me to quit that I realized that I'm more than just my pilot's license. I loved flying. I still do. But it was just a job, and I let it become my identity."

Andy took a moment to process Father Sullivan's story. He had never heard it before, and had to admit that it was nothing like he expected.

"So is being a priest just a job, too?" Andy asked.

Father Sullivan laughed out loud.

"It doesn't sound very nice when you put it that way. But yes, I think being a priest is just a job, it's not who I am. I am a man, fallen, with lots of problems and issues. The Lord is gracious with me everyday and I try my best to be the person He created me to be. Being a priest is just how I can express who I am, but it is not the entirety of who I am."

Andy stared into the mug of tea that Father Sullivan had placed in front of him, letting the words sink in.

"Why do you ask, Father Dylan? What's got you thinking about this?"

Andy looked up from his tea, wondering how to answer without revealing too much.

"Nothing," Andy said, shaking his head. "I was just curious."

"Well," Father Sullivan was smiling again. "I hope we can be friends, Father Dylan. This can be a lonely job and we need to be able to lean on each other if we're planning on sticking around for a while. I'm more than happy to talk about these types of things. In fact, they're important to talk about. I think too many people join the priesthood for the wrong reasons. So many people join because they're chasing glory, fame, recognition. Others join to run away from something. Neither are right, and they can end up doing more harm than good."

Father Sullivan stood up and stretched. "I need to take my old self off to bed now. You have a good night, Father Dylan. Let me know if you'd like to chat again."

Father Sullivan placed an encouraging squeeze on Andy's shoulder before heading off to his room.

Others join to run away from something... They can end up doing more harm than good.

Father Sullivan's words echoed through Andy's ears. His chest had constricted at those words. Was he running away from something? Would he end up doing more harm than good? No, he wouldn't allow it. He'd just have to buckle down and try harder. No more sneaking off to night clubs, no more daydreaming about Marcus. The LGBT Center... Well, he'd just have to skip that now.

For the first time in weeks, Andy fell asleep that night without fighting the urges of his body. He slipped into a deep sleep, weighed down by his burden. It was a heavy burden, but one he felt was his to bear. Christ had his cross; Andy had his own.

*****

"Shoot him! Shoot him! Damn, Marcus, you suck at this."

"Sorry, kid" Marcus handed the game controller back to the teenager and patted him in the head.

"Hey, watch the hair!"

Marcus smiled and glanced at the door before wandering over to the pool table to see what some of the older boys were up to.

"Hey Marcus, we need a fourth. You game?" Nick, a sophomore in high school held up a pool cue.

"Yeah, sure." He played with Nick and a couple other regulars at the Thursday night youth group, chatting about their week and giving each other hard times.

"Dude, you waiting for someone?" Nick asked.

"What? No, why'd you say that?"

"'Cause you keep staring at the door," Nick said with a smirk on his face.

"Shut up," Marcus gave him a friendly push.

"What? You crushing on some guy?" Nick teased.

"What?" Marcus tsked. "Kid, you don't know what you're talking about."

"Ha, sure," Nick smiled widely and turned to take his shot.

Marcus groaned inwardly, because he had been keeping an eye on the door all evening. He was pretty sure Doe eyes wouldn't show up, but it didn't stop him from hoping.

The whole situation was fucked up, as far as he was concerned. He had been on a perfectly nice date with a perfectly nice guy, but Marcus had been more than willing to ditch Charles the minute Andy showed up. Charles hadn't been too happy about that. Marcus had to do a lot of apologizing to smooth things over, and even now he wasn't sure if there'd be another date. The fucked up part was that he wasn't sure he wanted another date; he had no reason not to be interested in Charles, except he really wasn't that interested.

And now here he was, waiting on pins and needles for a guy who was most likely not going to show up anyways. Now, how fucked up was that?

"Hello? Dude?"

Marcus snapped out of his thoughts to see three teenaged guys watching him expectantly.

"What?"

"Dude, it's your turn," Nick said, shaking his head. "He's got it bad."

Nick and his friends laughed with each other as Marcus scowled at them.

"Since when did you turn into a California surfer boy? I've never heard anyone say 'Dude' so much." Marcus retorted and set the boys off on another laughing fit.

Marcus bent over the pool table, lining up his next shot. Just as he was about to take it, one of the other kids called out.

"Ow, Marcus! Dude's checking out your ass!" He missed the shot, the ball rolling very wide of its target.

Marcus glared at Ryan, knowing he had timed that on purpose. But Ryan wasn't looking at him. Ryan was looking at the door.

Marcus turned and his breath hitched. As much as Marcus had been telling himself that he didn't care if Andy showed up, he couldn't help the way his heart soared when he saw the man. Marcus let his eyes wander down Andy's body, taking in his perfectly parted brown hair, loose fitting khakis and plaid button down tucked neatly into his pants. Andy's eyes were wide with embarrassment and the bright flush told Marcus that Ryan's comment probably wasn't too far off the mark.

"Shut it, guys," Marcus said as the boys began snickering among themselves. He walked over to Andy, trying not to smile, but failing miserably. "I didn't think you'd make it."

"I was sure I'd make it either," Andy swallowed thickly and dropped his eyes to the floor.

"I'm glad you did, though," Marcus said after a beat. "Come on, I'll introduce you to these loser kids." Marcus said the last part loudly with a smile on his face and the kids eagerly lined up to meet the cute man Marcus brought.

Marcus introduced the 10 or so kids that showed up, boys and girls, ranging from about 13 to 18. Each one gave Andy the once over and passed on nods and winks to Marcus, indicating their approval.

"Hey, give me a minute to finish up this game, okay?" Marcus asked, indicating the pool table.

"Yeah, sure. Take your time."

Marcus went back to the game but his attention was on the man across the room. Andy had been so infuriating every time their paths had crossed, and yet Marcus couldn't deny that he was happy that he came.

Marcus watched out of the corner of his eye as Andy wandered to the reading corner and started chatting with Sophie. She was kind of a shy kid, liked to read by herself and none of the counsellors had been able to draw her out of her shell. But it seemed like she was talking to Andy.

Marcus missed his next couple of shots, partly because he was distracted and partly because he'd rather be watching Andy than playing pool. The boys couldn't stop snickering, but Marcus didn't care enough to do anything about it.

Andy seemed more relaxed when talking with Sophie. The tension in his shoulders was gone and he had a gentle smile on his face. He was adorable and all Marcus wanted to do was walk over, hold him in his arms, and pull him in for a deep kiss.

Marcus' heart twisted at the thought. What the hell was wrong with him? Doe eyes clearly had issues; he's still in the closest and he a fuc-, he was priest! Marcus shook his head, trying to shake clear the unwanted thoughts. Charles is nice, and hot, and willing; he should focus his attention on Charles, not some closeted priest who was using him for experimentation.

Marcus tried to turn his attention back to the game. The other team was doing a good job of kicking Nick and Marcus' butts, and Nick made sure Marcus knew it was his fault.

Then suddenly, the room was filled with music, simple chords, beautiful and haunting. Everyone turned to the piano in the corner just as Andy began to sing: