The Ugly Priest

When his foot hit the first step, his face conveyed a worried frown, an uneasiness brought on by where his thoughts were taking him. Like many times before, he found it effortless to recall the first time he really noticed her cologne. He and Jennifer were thirteen years old, and he was only a month away from leaving for the seminary. They ran into each other in the produce section at the A & P. Next to the tomatoes a smile filled her lips, a sensuous offering she had never made before, one that had him looking at the floor instead of where he wanted to look. They had been friends since kindergarten, and except for the one time they were forced to dance “close” at her cousin'’s wedding, their relationship had always been affably conducted as friends; but the look she gave him in the A & P produce section, along with the smile, was more than he ever expected from her; it was attention-grabbing and it made him uncomfortable. With his index finger he unconsciously tapped a cucumber as he stammered to make conversation. After uttering a few absurdities, as a thirteen-year-old boy might do when accosted by a girl, even one of Jennifer'’s status, he then made what would become a mistake of agreeing to walk with her on their way home. He never before gave it a second thought walking with her, but this time there was a feeling of trepidation that made him consider it an unwise move. He didn'’t know why, at least while standing in produce he didn'’t. His hand had moved to the zucchini, again tapping the vegetable in time to his tremors. When she asked him and he reluctantly muttered ‘yes,’ it was the only thing coming out of his mouth that sounded intelligent. He pushed the zucchini aside and followed her out of the store neglecting the small list his mother sent him to the store to fill. Jennifer and he had gone through grade school together and were always good, and, in times of need, close friends. It never had been inferred by either that it was more than friendship directing their relationship, and George was comfortable with that. Halfway through their walk home, in the viaduct under the railroad tracks, his estimation of the bond they shared shattered. It was an instant transformation of Jennifer'’s status from friend to vixen, almost as if she had an urgent need to wreak havoc on the mind and body of the budding priest. Near the end of the viaduct, where the daylight drifted in and the dense layers of dampness floated out, Jennifer stopped. George didn'’t notice until he was a dozen or so steps ahead of her and almost out of the viaduct. She called his name. He didn'’t give much thought to her odd behavior, although she had been fidgety, quiet when usually talkative and avoiding eye contact with him since they left the A & P. Suddenly recalling the look she gave him at the store, the look that dangerously pleased and, at the same time, disturbed him, he hesitated, examining the graffiti packed walls instead of looking at the girl who was causing him so much trepidation. With an anxiety usually reserved for being sent to the principal'’s office, he walked toward her. Before he was able to ask why she stopped, she grabbed his shoulders and kissed him, not gently, but with a frightening force that startled him and, most unnervingly, aroused him. Not like the principal'’s office at all. Worse, much worse. When she pulled away he remained frozen, arms pressed snugly against his body, knees slightly buckled, unable to dislodge the trauma preventing any movement. Eyes closed, cheeks clenched, his mind assessed the cause for this assault from this girl he thought he knew. An alarm buzzed in his head, waking him to the recognition of what just happened, an unexpected impulsive action, but even more bewildering, the resulting physical excitement following her grasp, her kiss, her body next to his. It frightened him. He trembled. His head turned upward away from her face; he rigidly turned on his heels and walked away from her, toward the light, toward some place where he could find solace. He quickened his step as he exited the viaduct. He heard her hurried footsteps behind him and Jennifer caught up as they both entered the sunshine. She put her hand in his and again he trembled, quickly pulling away. Demurely, with smile subdued and eyes repentant, she told him she wanted to say goodbye before he left for the seminary. That was more than just a simple goodbye, he argued, but stopped when he could not think of how to proceed with an irritated line of reasoning. Instead, he stared straight ahead and walked steadily forward. Her action was one he couldn'’t grasp. He didn'’t understand, but said nothing more to her. They parted at the corner, her saying she hoped that they would always be friends but never apologizing, which he thought was required. He began to mouth a good bye and decided to just wave. After he was out of sight, he shook, all the way home, unable to stem the quaking. For the next month up to the day he left for the seminary, their friendship remained fragile.