Chapter 11: Pride
William sat in his Desoto for a few moments before he put the keys in the ignition. He needed to clear his head, get away from the temptation for a while and see if what he was feeling was real or just a side effect of being surrounded by Buffy. When he said he loved her, he was just as surprised as she was and was glad that she hadn’t returned the sentiment. If she’d said it, if she’d told him she loved him, it would have made everything harder than it already was. But she didn’t. Maybe she was still trying to figure out why instead of what she felt for him, but either way, he’d made a mistake.
There was nothing reasonable about their relationship, nothing sane or sound about it. He cared deeply for her, couldn’t stand the thought of her in pain, wanted her happiness and adored everything about her, nor could he bear the thought of a life without her in it. Was that love? These were his thoughts in the shower. He remembered the parable of the mustard seed from Mark, Luke and Matthew; a parable to teach about the kingdom of God and faith. That even the smallest of seeds, when sowed, could grow into a large tree, large and grand enough for all the birds in the sky to perch upon. That in that light, so was the kingdom of heaven. Maybe that’s what love was: a tiny spark that once handled properly, it could thrive and flourish and become great enough to share with another. And it was this kind of thinking, these references to the bible that constantly set him back several paces. Just when he was close enough to grasp the concept of love and affection, God would step in and make him feel shame. Couldn’t sin also be viewed this way? Couldn’t sin begin with something small, and grow into something dead and black, too terrifying for even a raven to sully its foot by perching on it? Was that all this was? Was the pain he was feeling merely a symptom of his sins? Would it all wash away if he let her go and devoted himself to God again?
But looking back, even before Buffy came to his church and school, he couldn’t recall fulfillment, happiness or completion. This was easily excused because of his humble service to God. God didn’t complain, Christ didn’t want, and so neither did William. And now he had so many doubts, so many questions and fears that he didn’t know what was right or wrong anymore. This is why he’d decided in the shower to go to confession and seek help. He might be making a huge mistake, but luckily he ventured far enough away from his hometown that he clung to the confidentiality that confession posed. He had to talk to someone, had to find relief in any way. Because he was lying to himself, guarding his heart from the very harsh reality that he was a damn fool.
He knew it when he looked at her, wrapped up in white sheets like a virgin sacrifice, eyes shining with unshed tears and her hair unkempt from his greedy fingers when he made love to her that morning. How could he look at her and not know? How could he listen to her broken voice, look into her sad eyes and not know how incredibly, head-over-heels, sick in the head, desperately, madly and horrifyingly in love with her he was?
“William, have I done something to upset you?”
That’s what did it. Those words from her sweet lips threw everything back in his face like a bucket of cold water. Had she done something other than crawl into his chest and take residence in the very depths of his being? No. She’d taken his own doubts, his own resistance as a fault of her own, something she’d done to cause his turmoil. He wanted nothing more than to strip his clothes off and shower her with love and affection, kiss away her tears and make love to her all day. But he couldn’t. He knew he had to do this, had to get out, get some air, turn to God and seek advice. If what he was feeling was in fact real, and was in fact love, then how could God deny him?
Placing distance from her, he’d all but flown out the door. His resistance was tested yet again by her when she asked if he was coming back. Had he placed that much worry in her, that much doubt that she believed he’d abandon her? What sort of person would leave an eighteen-year-old alone in a hotel to figure out how to get back home? What sort of man would do that to a woman without any explanation? Did she really think so little of him that he would simply leave? And yet, he imagined she could come to no other conclusion after his odd behavior that morning. But there was no time to mull over his actions and what he should and shouldn’t have done or what he wanted to do. Now was the time for answers. Now was the time to be selfless and figure out something that would not only ease his mind, but maybe hers as well. She deserved happiness, more than William thought he did. And if he couldn’t give it to her, then she deserved to know and he was willing to risk everything to find out.
~*~*~*~
“Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned,” William said, his hands trembling as he clasped them between his knees.
“How long since your last confession?” came the kind British voice from the other side of the decorative window, filled with holes too small to make out any of his facial features.
“It has been two months.”
“Continue, my son.”
“This isn’t easy,” William said, clearing his voice and his rapid heart beat seemed to slow when he heard the priest softly chuckle.
“Sin rarely is. But I assure you that you may confide in me.”
“I-I am a priest, Father.”
“Oh? And I suspect that since I don’t recognize your voice that you’ve come to me with something most troublesome.”
William paled a bit at that. “I’m terrified of the consequences, though I must confess that the burden of my sin is great.”
“Are you in legal trouble?”
“No.” He laughed nervously. “I’m afraid it’s nothing like that. It’s…well, I seem to have become involved with a woman.” He refrained from mentioning that she was a student or her age. This was difficult enough as it was and he was merely testing the waters first.
“I see,” he said quietly. “Would I be correct in assuming that this is a sexual relationship?”
“I regret to say that it is.”
The priest was quiet for a long while before he said, “Do you regret the relationship or regret that you are confessing?”
William swallowed. This man was good. “The latter.”
He didn’t expect to hear his laughter, but when it came, he was somewhat rattled. “At least you’re honest. I assume you haven’t spoken with your Diocese about this latest development?”
“No. I’m afraid. That may make me sound like a coward, but I’m horribly confused at the moment and merely wanted to seek council.”
“Then why not meet me in my office so we can discuss this properly?”
William paused. “I’d rather you didn’t see—“
“Don’t worry. As long as you’re honest with me, I see no reason to throw you to the wolves. Let’s have ourselves a talk and we’ll go from there. I’ll meet you in an hour, will that suffice?”
“Y-yes. Thank you, father.”
~*~*~*~
William waited patiently for the priest to come to his office. He looked around, noting how pleasant the décor was. It was a far cry from his desolate and morose surroundings. As he mulled over the plush carpet versus his choice of large area rugs in his own room, the door opened and a dark-haired priest entered, smiling pensively. He was slightly shorter than William and had a much smaller build. His wire-rimmed rectangular glasses sat on the tip of his pointy noise, away from his kind blue eyes. He studied William for a moment before he cleared his throat and offered his hand.
“Hello, I’m Father Wesley.”
William stood and shook his hand shyly. “Father William, sir. Thank you for…”
“Yes, well, let’s get to it, shall we?” Wesley smirked and sat down behind his desk, sighing with exhaustion as he removed his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose.
Seeing his plight, William said, “If this is a bad time…”
“No, no.” He smiled and inspected his glasses for spots before putting them back on. “I just need a new prescription. These bloody glasses are giving me headaches.” He situated them on the tip of his nose again, away from his aching eyes. “Now then. What’s all this about a woman?”
William crossed one leg over the other. “Well, it’s just that. I’m involved with a woman.”
“I see,” Wesley said with a knowing smirk. “And how long has this been going on?”
“A few months now.”
“Is it serious?”
“Yes. It’s…very serious.”
Wesley rocked back and forth in his chair for a moment, pursing his lips. “How long have you been a priest, William? May I call you William?”
“Yes, of course. I’ve been a priest for ten years now.”
“Ten years,” he said, contemplating something as he looked at the ceiling. “But you are quite young.”
“Thirty-one.”
“And this is the first foray into the world of pleasure, eh?”
William was unsure if the man was joking with him or goading him. “Yes, of course.”
“Evil tarts,” William heard Wesley mutter under his breath. “You know, I had this problem myself a few years back.”
“Oh?”
“Gorgeous girl. Very tempting.”
“What happened?”
“When I come to you for confession, William, then you will know the details of my sordid past.”
William scoffed. “You’re the one who brought it up!”
Wesley laughed, clapping his hands together. “Your sense of humor has certainly taken a back seat to your self-loathing, has it not?”
“I’m sorry,” he said with a small smile, “I’m incredibly confused, as you can imagine. I apologize if light-hearted jokes seem to go unnoticed at the moment.”
“No need to apologize. You’ll find that I’m rather unorthodox about a few things. Lucky for you, I imagine,” he said, smirking, and opened his desk drawer, pulling out a small metal flask. William’s brow furrowed, finding a kinship with this man. It grew when the priest offered him a sip. William raised his hand in dismissal and Wesley shrugged, taking a large sip and placing the flask back in his desk.
His expression turned serious after that, and he leaned forward in his desk, leveling with his guest. “You do realize that you could be excommunicated for this. Probably will be, I should say.”
“I know,” William sighed, dragging a hand down his weary face.
“Does that trouble you, William?”
“Of course it does,” he said incredulously. “I’ve devoted ten years of my life to the priesthood, not to mention the years prior spent studying for it. Being a priest is…”
“All you know?” Wesley smiled gently at him, finishing his thought for him. When William nodded, Wesley frowned in thought. “May I ask you a personal question?”
“Certainly.” He fidgeted nervously.
“Why did you become a priest?”
William let out a long painful sigh and his eyes darted about the room. “My father.”
“Is your father a Catholic?”
William laughed and rubbed his eyes. “Absolutely not. Have you heard of Rupert Giles?”
Wesley sat back in his chair and his mouth opened. “Your father is…”
“Yes, the world-famous historian of theology and mythos. Elaine Pagels, a famous biblical historian, often uses my father’s research for her books.”
“Oh, she’s the woman who claims that the story of Adam and Eve was made up by a sexually frustrated monk, correct?”
“Precisely.” The two men shared a knowing look of disbelief. “So you can see that I didn’t choose this profession because of a family tradition.”
Wesley rubbed his chin with mirth. “How does your father handle it, knowing that his son worships a god that he doesn’t believe in?”
“Well, it makes for very interesting Christmas dinners, I’ll tell you that,” William said with a laugh.
“But you claim that you made your vows because of your father? I don’t understand.”
“My father was…is, very wealthy from his profession. Because of his fame, he was often gone for long periods of time, researching this or that, traveling the world for ancient tomes or whatnot, leaving me to my own devices. I rebelled for his attention constantly, though he viewed my rebellion as a phase.”
“But you rebelled with religion,” Wesley said, smiling.
“Correct. I believed in God and my father thought I was a fool. He was convinced that I wouldn’t be able to commit to it, that it was only my way of proving something to him.”
“And he was right.”
“Yes,” William said without thinking. “I mean, no! My decision to become a priest was well thought out, long before I made the choice.”
“At the age of twenty-one.”
“Yes. I don’t see how this—“
Wesley chuckled, already having figured the man out. “Are you happy, William?” When the blond merely tilted his head in thought, Wesley continued. “I’ve been a priest for fifteen years now. For those fifteen years, I’ve struggled, I won’t lie. Being a priest is never easy, but that’s the test, isn’t it? We’re brothers and sons of God because we were the chosen few to speak his word. There is a sort of happiness in that, a happiness that I see in myself as well as the members of my Diocese. Certainly there are worldly temptations and certainly there are nights filled with doubt, but it all comes down to one thing. Faith. If you had faith in God, William, you would have no problems giving your problems to him.”
“But, how can I do that when…”
“When you’re in love,” he said plainly.
William looked at the wall and sighed. “Yes. When I’m in love.”
“I think, and I may be overstepping my bounds here, but I think that you should reevaluate your life, William. Find out if you hold the priesthood because you’re worthy or if you’re trying to prove something. Pride has no place here. You can still believe in God, still follow his teachings, still help those in need and not be a priest, should that be your sacred calling. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
~*~*~*~*~
Buffy had spent the better half of an hour curled up on the bed while William was away. Somehow, she was confident that he would return, though she didn’t know if he would return on good terms or not. She would have to do something to make him stay. Not only was she terrified of the thought of him leaving her, but she didn’t have anywhere to go should he decide to leave her. That part didn’t hurt as much to think about. What hurt was remembering the past couple of days they’d spent together. When he made love to her in the shower, cried as he gave himself over to her. Had that meant nothing? Was that so easily forgotten?
Perhaps he was angry because she didn’t say the words back to him. But she didn’t know if she loved him, and that scared her even more. How easy all of this could be if she knew what she was feeling. Was it dependence, attachment, longing, or something deeper?
She took a shower and stood naked before her closet. She put on a black lace bra and a matching thong and a pair of heels and then put on some makeup.
What, exactly, was this? She knew that the more time she spent with him, the closer they became. But every time they’d get a little closer, he’d pull back completely. However, Buffy wasn’t going to deny that not once had she told him how she felt, not once had she done anything but accept what he gave, nor did she ever fight him when he pulled away. So how was she any different?
She laid on the bed on her side, propping her head up on her hand and waited in a seductive tableau for William to see when he walked in. If he was going to leave her, he’d be a fool not to think again when he took one look at her. Her back stiffened when she heard his keys jingling from outside the door, quickly fixing her hair before he opened it. He stood in the doorway with his keys hanging at his side, staring at her for a moment. He looked at her in confusion, and then turned around to close the door. She watched him shake his keys in his hand as he walked over to the side of the bed, and then he flung them on the night stand before he looked down at her.
“You came back,” she said softly.
His jaw clenched and he sighed quietly. “Yeah, I came back.” He was silent for a moment, looking at the floor. “What are you doing?”
“What do you mean?” she asked nervously, starting to sit up on the bed. “I thought you’d want to…”
She paused when his expression tensed and he started to blink away tears. “Is this what I’ve done to you?”
“William?” She was sitting up now, her legs dangling over the edge of the bed, looking up at him. His head still hung low and she saw his shoulders move slightly as he began to cry. Buffy grabbed his hands. “William, what’s wrong?”
William sank to his knees and laid his head on her lap. He was a horrible, awful man. After all the good he’d tried to do today, it was almost for nothing when he took one look at her when he’d returned. She thought she’d upset him earlier that day, and now here she was trussed up like a whore with red lipstick on, trying to seduce him into forgiveness when she’d done nothing wrong. “I’m so sorry, Buffy,” he said, the sound muffled by her thighs. She started stroking his hair, confused by his apology but comforting him just the same. He clutched her calves, nuzzling himself further into her body as his sobs grew in intensity. The sound of a man crying wasn’t something she was used to, and the fact that it was coming from William brought her own set of tears to the surface. She sank down on the floor with him, cradling him in her arms, not saying a word. While at first his pleas seemed directed to her, she wasn’t sure she was the only one he was apologizing to any more.
“I’m so…so sorry. Please, please, please…I’m so sorry!”