Amorous Goods: The Agony of Father Hernández
A lifelong collector of goods and objects from far and wide has passed and left the entire collection and the business built around them to the only remaining relative, a niece on a career path of her own. Vikki has taken on the task of administering the estate and liquidating the business and collection. However, she has come to find out that many of the goods have been cursed or enchanted with amorous powers that affect those who encounter them. These are the stories of some of those encounters with objects found at Amorous Goods.
~
The Priest wondered if he should pray for a miracle, concern growing inside him. Across the street, in front of that new & curiously named shop, angry shouts bloomed as two members of his flock began to fight. They heaved and grappled, one trying to wrest possession of something from the other, their bodies twisting, voices raised in anger.
Crossing the street at a run he planted his powerful frame between the two men, his thick arms easily prying them apart. They wilted under his stern gaze, red faced and eyes lowered, one still clutching an odd looking book to his chest protectively. Large and curiously bound in pink leather, its cover twelve people at dinner, smiling, cunningly detailed expressions that suggested...The Priest turned his eye to the title; "Pleasing Your Wife and Satisfying Your Guests: An Illustrated Guide to Good Manners".
He let the awkward silence hang between them, coolly appraising them, the book, the store. Apologies and vague explanations from the men, their mumbling halted at his upraised finger. He centered himself, of course it had to be Mr. Fairazee and Mr. Sadusi who tested him so often in confession.
"My Brothers this is," a broad gesture "unseemly."
"I'm sorry Father, I told them to hold the book for me and"
"I bought it first fair and square Mr Sadusi! I'm sorry Fath-"
"Enough! If you cannot share then make a copy? Otherwise I'd suggest you return this...book. Yes that's probably for the best" The Priest leaned in close, his tone harder "I could confiscate it, perhaps that would be easier for both of you, since you are unable to act in a godly manner right now?"
The notion of returning or confiscating the book united the men into a hasty apology and retreat, promising they would come to some suitable arrangement. The Priest, hardly believing he had diffused the situation so quickly, watched the two men, now quite agreeable, walk away almost arm in arm, the book close between them.
As he stood there in the hot sun watching the two departing figures, his attention was drawn to the store by a curious yet familiar smell that reminded him of...excitement, danger? He eyes crept over the flickering sign and the stores facade, and came to rest on a table placed outside with a most unusual pot, a hibiscus just beginning to bloom inside it.
He realized he was standing much closer, breathing hard, the fragrance now filling his head with a sense of unease despite it's beauty. Trying to slow his breath, he examined the pot. It appeared ancient, a remarkable reproduction really he thought, with a fascinating ancient Greek acrostic for the ICTHYS. Ancient Greece had always been his favorite subject, perhaps the store would...no, the Priest was not in a habit of walking strange paths, spending money of frivolities, and he was late as it was.
Deliberately turning away he took comfort in his faith, looking forward to his next task. As he crossed into the less fortunate part of town however, some faint too sweet stench lingered in his mind, a tiny seed of repressed memory and feelings had taken root, hidden under his current purposeful stride.
~
He arrived at his destination, a grim three story tenement over a dry cleaners who was kind enough to let The Priest run community programs out of their basement. As he entered, the reek of mold, a welcoming smell for once, greeted him along with a few hello's from the assembled teenagers.
He was proud of the kids and their efforts here. Focusing on volunteer clean up and beautification of their neighborhoods and local businesses, their efforts had brought in a lot of goodwill and a modest amount of donations he spent on essentials for the kids most in need. It was a modest and lonely struggle, but worth it. He tried to impart good religious values as well, as best one could with teenagers he thought wryly.
This evening's meeting went quickly, plans made for the next outing, a brief study session, refreshments served. The Priest always enjoyed the ending, the kids talking, a spirit of togetherness. He counted a dozen of them tonight, sipping orange drinks and laughing at a story one of them was telling.
The kid talking was his favorite, Harry. Just over 6', lanky and baby faced with the faintest hint of a moustache, dyed mohawk flopped to one side, trendy clothing choices from the thrift store. He was quite found of new fads and trying on new things, and the Priest reminded himself he now preferred to be called The Harold.
"Yeah Kevin that was pretty bussin right? Ok crazy bible fact time...for real check this out...so it's church canon, like actual pope law that Jesus went to this place, the garden of goth-semen or, no for real I swear that's the name!"
"Anyways Jesus went there and was tested. He saw every sin committed by every human being ever! Which means...I mean really think about that for a minute haha!"
"He must've seen all sorts of insane things for real for real! Like imagine all the sex stuff oh my god, he would have seen ALL of it, like you all been on the internet right, so you can imagine lol! And man...even after seeing what people can be like, he still decided to sacrifice himself for humanity. Absolute legend!"
The Priest wasn't amused at the hilarity the group shared. Silencing them with a look of reprimand, he thanked them for their good work and quoted what he thought was a relevant passage on righteous behavior. Looking at their faces, he knew he hadn't gotten through to them, had often felt he didn't connect with them like he could have, but they left happy and at least they would come back, continue to work together.
The Harold lingered behind, a solemn yet still somehow cheeky look in his eyes he drew himself erect and faced the Priest.
"You're a good man Father, but seriously it was just a meme....you need to lighten up a bit! Smile more, try new things! There's a really fun person inside you, you should let him out!"
"I appreciate your enthusiasm The Harold. That said, at my age you can't really change who you are, so I think I shall tread the path God has set before me, the one I have always walked." A rare smile on his face, touched as he was by the sentiment behind The Harold's words.
"Just as long as you remember that Father, if he chooses to set new paths at your feet"
A brilliant smile and a bow as The Harold left, his sudden and mysterious wisdom hanging in the air like something not quite real. The Priest locked up, walking into a humid evening he stepped quickly along his usual path home.
~
A mist congealed around the city giving an eerie sheen to everything. Nonetheless the Priest stepped lightly along, mind on autopilot as he contemplated The Harold's words, the earlier incident in front of the store, the flower in the unusual pot and...
The Priest was quite surprised when the white bird exploded up past his face, flitting across the street onto a lamp post, directly in front of a store, that store. He considered the bird with a creeping sense of unreality as he pondered if this was a dove and a sign of God's will, or an albino pigeon and he needed to go to bed early for once.
The store's lights beckoned, and he realized he was crossing the street, looking and sniffing the air with a kind of hunger. The table with the potted flower was gone. The Priest looked at the bird as he offered a prayer to St. Francis and entered the store.
The door's bell ringing in his ear, that smell again in the air, the Priest stood tall and scanned the store. He ignored the riotous display of strange items strewn about the shelves and tables, the elegant woman behind the counter and her greeting. Then he spotted it, the pot and its delicate flower, across the room at the rear of the store, where the counter ended and a back room began.
Drawn to it he moved closer without thinking, and as the flower's aroma filled his head he was overwhelmed with feelings, with long buried memories, and he knelt as if in prayer in front of the pot.
The memory was an old one long suppressed; Seamus and him were alone in the seminary dorm rooms, tasked with cleaning. Working together until they were soaked in sweat, the close laughter of friends, his soft brogue and softer lips. The look they shared, a hesitation, remembering promises not to sin again...the mad embrace that followed. That brief everlasting moment of joy. Then the head masters voice, hard words and harder consequences...
The Priest realized he had tears in his eyes even if there was no change in his expression, no sound, and alarmingly felt a long unaccustomed firmness growing in his pants, beginning to strain against the fabric. The store employee hovered a discrete distance away, arranging the haphazard displays convincingly. He could not remember the last time he had cried, let alone the last time he had...embarrassment warred with the strangely liberated feeling he had in his chest. Feeling as he wasn't quite on solid ground, he steadied himself, shyly accepting the tissue from the employee, he remained kneeling for a moment until his eyes were dry, his ardor cooled
"Yes, its fragrance is quite lovely." a warm smile "It is amazing isn't it, how such things can pull the strings of our...hearts...songs of people and times gone by" real kindness in her eyes, her voice "I'm Vikki, lovely of you to stop by Father."
"Thank you Vikki." A sense of disbelief spreading in him "I'm sorry to have disturb..."
"Nonsense, here," an elegant chair pulled from behind the counter and placed in front of the table with the flower "sit down, relax for a moment, please."
"You're very kind."
"Sybil! Can you bring us some tea please?" shouted at the back room, she excused herself when there was no answer.
The Priest looked at the flower, its petals just beginning to bloom, dark red on white. Memories crept in again tangled in the fragrance he fought for control. His sense of normalcy slipping, he examined the pot to distract himself, wondering at it, the ancient Greek acrostic, translating it in his head.
"What was that you said Father?" Vikki beside him again, laying out some sugar and milk in anticipation.
"Jesus Christ, Son of God, Savior. The inscription here, that's what it would be in English."
"I wasn't aware, fascinating"
"The pot is an amazing reproduction, truly remarkable."
