Page 22 of Heathens
“I thought you liked dead things?” he teases. Unlike Benedict, who I nearly lost from exposing my idiosyncrasies, it’s as though Salem embraces them.
It’s uncanny really. It adds to his appeal, and I’m almost angry that it does.
We walk up the small hill toward the now-closing gate. Jogging, we barely make it in before it traps us in. I gasp at the view—at the openness.
“But you're also a genius.“
The tree-lined path before us is lit with old lanterns peppering the sidelines, and the fog has started to roll in—permeating the expansive graveyard. It’s oddly quiet, as if the sounds of Paris just outside the gate wouldn’t dare enter this place. Even our footsteps, even my breathing, seems to be sucked up into the potent, silent energy. Even the smell of fresh earth, of watered grass and cut roses, seems diminished somehow. Like this place, like the souls that reside here, suck everything else up. No wonder Salem covets this place. Itisquiet. And peaceful.
“This place kind of puts everything into perspective, huh?” he asks, glancing at me as we stroll down the path. Headstones of all sizes and shapes—some new, some so weathered that I can’t even make out the names and dates—dot the small, rolling hills. A few have fresh flowers. A lot have dried weeks-old flowers.
“It does,” I answer. I instinctively reach for my pack of cigarettes, but change my mind. “Life is short.”
“But it doesn’t feel short when we’re living it,” he says quietly, looking around. “The days are long, but the years are short.”
“Touché,” I answer, puffing my cheeks with air and then blowing out slowly.
“All these people, these souls—they all had their problems. Their pleasures, their demons. Humanity is always fighting for the same thing. There's only one thing a person, of any time, is willing to sacrifice everything for.“ He pauses. “Love. Love for religion, love for another person, love for a country. Why do we go to war?“
I cross my arms. “Because we misunderstand each other,” I say quickly, off of the top of my head. “So... a lack of love for each other.”
One side of Salem’s lip quirks up. “Exactly.”
“I’m fighting for Evelyn because I love her. And you’re... you love God so much that you’re devoting your life to him.”
“Or her,” Salem interjects, smiling slowly. “I wouldn’t be surprised if God was a woman.”
I laugh. “That’s a very progressive view you have there, Mr. Priest man.”
“Father Monsignor is pretty progressive,” he says lightly. “He was married, you know.”
I twist to face him fully and stop walking. “You can become a priest if you’ve been married?”
“You can become a priest if youaremarried. Under certain circumstances.”
I raise my eyebrows. “But... I thought priests had to be celibate.”
“There are exceptions to the celibacy rule, dating back to the first pope, Peter. He was, along with his apostles, a married man. Married men may become priests, like I said, under very specific circumstances. For one, you have to be married before you’re ordained as a deacon to even be considered. So it’s possible, but very rare. Obviously, unmarried priests may not marry, and married priests, if widowed, may not remarry.”
“Huh.” A thrill runs through me, but I shake it off.
Salem takes a step closer to me. “I’ve met a couple of priests who are or were married. Men who worship God and the woman they love, who are faithful to two all-consuming vocations.” His voice is practically a purr.
I look up at him. “Is that so?” Swallowing, I move my hair behind my ear. “So why aren’t you married, then?”
He gives me a sinful smile. “While it is technically allowed, it is frowned upon. Also, my profession doesn’t really allow me to meet eligible women if you know what I mean.”
I feign shock. “You mean, you’renotpropositioned with illicit, forbidden sex in the confessional?” I lower my voice. “Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned...” I trail off when I see the shadow pass across his face.
He swallows and his eyes track down my face to my lips. “I can honestly say I’ve never been propositioned with that before,” he answers, giving me a tight smile and turning to walk further into the cemetery.
I close my eyes for a second, trying to disguise my burning cheeks.Why did I say that?
I follow him, hanging my head in shame and apologizing to whatever deity exists.
Numerous Sinful Thoughts
Salem
