Page 6 of Broken Halos
“The location has nothing to do with it,” I firmly said, cutting him off. “It’s you.”
“Me? You mean my profession?”
I turned around to face him once more. “What kind of pastor sends the dirty texts you do? What man of God looks at me the way you do?”
“How do I look at you?” Ollie calmly asked me.
“Like you want to fuck from sunset to sunrise, nap, and start all over again.”
“You’re not wrong, but you might be exaggerating my stamina a bit.”
“I’m not joking, Oliver.”
“Nor am I, Archie. You should know, there’s more I lust for than to know you physically.”
“You want to know me philosophically?” I challenged, raising my head.
“I want to know everything there is about you, Archie. I’d like to know why you’re pretending you don’t want the same thing.”
“You’re wrong, Oliver. I want to feel your dick in my ass or shove mine in yours. I don’t want to take long walks down by the river, knit, or meet your folks. All I can offer you is a quick, dirty fuck right here, right now.”
Ollie released a long, sad sigh then began closing his pants. “That’s a shame. I had hoped to explore these feelings between us.”
“I offered—”
“You offered your body, Archie. I want more. You should demand I want more too.”
“Who are you to know what I should or shouldn’t demand? You know—” I shook my head. “Ollie, I need you to stop sending me wet-dream-inducing texts and staring at me with such naked want and desire when you come in here. I’d rather you not come back here at all, but I don’t have the right to ask or insist on it. I don’t want to see you anymore.”
“You’ll see me in your dreams and every other time you close your eyes. I know this because you’ll be waiting for me when I close mine.”
“You are without a doubt the worst pastor I’ve ever heard of,” I said, borrowing and tweaking my favorite line inPirates of the Caribbean.
“But you have heard of me.” He gave me a jaunty, two-finger salute and left me staring into space long after the door closed.
“I’m so fucked.”
MY FAVORITE MONTH INOHIOwas September which started off with a lingering heat from August but teased the promise of fall weather with every passing day. September was the start of football, hoodie, and pumpkin spice season, and although I loved all of those things, nothing made me happier than the beginning of the Queen City Rogues Bowling League mid-September of each year. I couldn’t remember a time I was more excited about the team I assembled. This time last year Andy was still pining after Milo, the Frat Boys “had better things to do,” and I hadn’t met Keeton or Milo, who was the best bowler out of us.
So, every Tuesday, I had an extra pep in my step because it was bowling night, but on this particular Tuesday, I was extra peppy with excitement for our first league night. I wasn’t going to let anything bring me down, not even missing Archie.
I’d honored his wishes and stayed away from Queen City Divas on Wednesday evenings and stopped calling or texting him. I tried to delete his number from my phone at least two dozen times over the lonely month of separation, but I couldn’t do it. I wish I could say my dreams and fantasies about him disappeared too, but a pastor didn’t lie. I might crave the touch of a man who didn’t want me, and sometimes the numbness an illicit substance could give me, but I wouldn’t lie about their existence. I wouldn’t say my craving for one fueled the desire for the other, but they were equally as powerful, and both would cause me irreparable harm if I gave in. It was best if I just left well enough alone and avoided running into him.
“Hello, is this Pastor Oliver Knight?” asked a timid voice when I answered my cell phone.
“Yes, this is Pastor Ollie. How can I help you?” I was expecting the man to ask about NA meetings, but it wasn’t the reason for his call.
“Is HIV a plague God has placed on gay men? Does he hate me?”
I have to say the question caught me by surprise, not because I hadn’t heard the claims before, but because the man sounded so fearful of my answer. I knew this was a pivotal moment in the man’s life, and I couldn’t mess it up. I needed to speak with conviction, not only to reaffirm my beliefs but maybe to help him believe too. I didn’t expect my answer to be a cure-all, but maybe a step away from the ledge.
“What’s your name?” I asked gently.
“I…um—” His words broke off like he was afraid to tell me.
“You don’t have to say, or you can just give me your first name if you like.”
“My name is Henry, Pastor Ollie.”