It was past ten at night when Daniel finally got up the courage to walk into the small church. He passed it nearly every day on his way to work, but this was the first time he had ever been inside. Part of this was because he was raised Baptist, not Catholic, and another part was simply that Daniel wasn't really the pious type any more. He'd made his peace with "God" a long time ago, or at least he had thought so until he went to that damn conference. He walked quietly through the vestibule and found his way to the chapel, taking a seat in the very back and absorbing his surroundings.
It was a pleasant little place, even though Daniel felt rather like an intruder. There weren't very many of the faithful in attendance at this time of night, just a scattered handful of souls, perhaps some as lost as Daniel's own was. An elderly priest was busy lighting candles beneath a large crucifix that adorned the far wall, and not for the first time Daniel wondered why people chose to celebrate Jesus' death rather than his life. It was one of the questions that had ultimately driven a wedge between himself and organized religion in general. This was the first time he'd been in a church since his divorce six years ago. His frigid bitch of an ex-wife had been the devout one.
No one paid Daniel any mind as he sat quietly contemplating what he'd come here to do. He was an unobtrusive figure, mild in appearance and manner, just another forty-ish professional who had the look of someone obsessively neat. His hair and nails were clean and trimmed short, and he'd chosen to put on a tie for his visit tonight, just to look a little more presentable and less like a deviant. Still, he half expected the tiny congregation to stand up, point at him, and scream "blasphemer" any second now. Daniel adjusted his glasses and lowered his head, pretending to pray as he considered getting the hell out of here and giving up on this whole crazy idea. Tomorrow, he'd call a therapist like a normal person. But the anonymity of the church was what kept him in his seat, Daniel simply didn't want to talk to anyone who would know his name. He sat there with his head bowed for nearly half an hour, silently arguing with himself as one by one, the other worshippers departed until he was nearly alone. Deciding that it was now or never, Daniel rose from the pew and made his way toward the confessionals that stood beneath the smallish stained-glass windows.
Having never been in a confessional before, Daniel only knew the basic procedure from movies. He let himself into the small booth and took a seat on the hard, wooden bench placed inside. The only decorations were another dead Jesus, crucified on the wall before him, and a closed window that separated him from the other booth. Daniel sat patiently, turning his story over and over in his head and wondering if he could possibly find the guts to share it, even with a stranger he'd never see again. But his sleep was getting worse and he had to try something to make peace with himself before he drove himself crazy.
It was only a few moments before he heard the door to the other booth open and the priest rustling around in his seat. Daniel batted down one last urge to bolt from the confessional and waited until the small window slid open, his view of the man on the other side obscured by wooden mesh.
"Uh..." Daniel began, reciting the words as best he could. "Bless me, Father, for I think I've sinned pretty bad. I should tell you that I'm not Catholic and this is my first confession, so I don't really know how this works."
"Bless you, my son," came a warm, reassuring voice from the other side of the grill. "This is the house of the Lord and it is open to all. Speak freely, for your confession will be held in the strictest confidence."
"Thanks," was all Daniel could think of by way of response. He took a deep breath or two, steeling himself for what he had to say, and hoped that the priest wasn't easily shocked.
"I work as a personal counselor," he began without preamble. "I work with married couples, children, sometimes whole families. I love my work and I'm pretty good at it, if I do say so myself. Anyway, not long ago there was a big conference I attended, and I wound up sharing a room with a gent who was - and I'm being polite here - an unbearable, pompous ass. When things wound down for the evening, I had no desire to go back to the room, so I hung around in the bar for a while. It was a nice one, this being a pretty fancy hotel, and I nursed a beer and ended up in a conversation with the man sitting next to me. Sometimes I wonder what would have happened if I'd just gone up to my room and gone to sleep."
"We talked for quite a while, mostly just chit chat. Where are you from, what do you do for a living, that kind of thing. He was a friendly guy and kind of soft-spoken, but I noticed he kept pressing for details about certain things I'd mention. He liked that I was a counselor and seemed unusually interested in my divorce and my relationship with my ex-wife. He wasn't pushy, but it went beyond the bounds of casual conversation, you know? After about an hour he switched gears and started talking about his wife, which up until then I didn't even know he had. That was when things started getting really personal."
Daniel leaned back and stared at the ceiling for a moment before continuing. This was likely his last chance to chicken out of this. From here on out, he'd be telling this anonymous priest things that he wouldn't dare tell his best friend. But he'd come this far, and he resolved to see this out to the end, for better or worse.
"He and his wife were both in town for the conference like I was. He said she was upstairs and showed me a picture of her and asked me what I thought. I said she was a very beautiful woman. Then as we talked he started dropping odd comments... mentioning things... things she liked in bed. He told me how much she liked it when he was rough and pulled her hair and... did other things."
"Well, I was born at night, but I wasn't born last night. I've spoken with a LOT of people who were dealing with sexual issues and I figured it was something like that. Once I counseled a guy over some homosexual pornography he found on his wife's computer. My new friend was trying to tell me something, I just didn't know what. So I played along until he finally got to the point."
"He said they were deeply in love and this was their tenth wedding anniversary. He wanted to give her something very special that she'd been wanting for a long time. I asked him what it was, and he said he was out shopping for it right as we spoke."
"'Dan', he said to me. 'Would you have any interest at all in raping my wife?'"
