Page 24 of For I Have Sinned
For several minutes we walk without talking. Up Leighton Ave and down Restix Street until we’re walking up the path to another church. This one is Unitarian. It would look like any regular building, a residence, if it wasn’t for the peak of the roof and the way it sprawled. It has white siding and a cross on the large gable end.
There is a playground at the side and a large yard with flower beds and benches. Zaiden walks up the path, pulling me with him.
The wooden door is closed, but he pulls it open. As we step inside and the door closes behind me, I feel peace. It’s quiet, but not cold.
Zaiden pulls me further inside the lobby and stops at a table where he picks up one of those rubber cause bracelets. This one is a rainbow. There’s a cross painted on it in white and the words ‘He’s Proud of You’ on it. Taking my hand, Zaiden stretches it until it sits around my wrist.
“I believe in God,” Zaiden says quietly as he pulls me along. There’s a man standing off to the side. As he turns and I see his collar, I suddenly feel like I’m intruding on another man’s turf. But he smiles at me, welcoming and warm. “But the God I believe in loves everyone equally,” he adds as he leads me closer to the priest. “Who you love doesn’t matter to Him.”
The priest steps forward and offers me his hand.
“This is Ellsworth,” Zaiden says, letting my hand go. “Pastor Bob.”
Paster Bob smiles kindly. He’s young, maybe forties. Early fifties at the most. But he’s relaxed, kind, and welcoming. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ellsworth.”
Then he turns to Zaiden and gives him a hug. When he pulls away, he rests his hand along the side of Zaiden’s head. “How are you, son?”
Zaiden smiles and nods. “Can we go into the sanctuary for a bit?”
“Of course, Zaiden. Take your time. Let me know if you need anything.”
Zaiden nods and takes my hand again, leading me to the double doors. One is propped open and I can see inside. Just like at the cathedral, the ceilings are high and the pulpit is facing us with a large cross behind it, hanging on the wall. There’s a dais and a podium.
But instead of an organ, there’s a smaller piano. And while the ceiling is high, it’s not imposingly unreachable. There are bare wood accents and a modest wooden chandelier with flame-like bulbs. The walls aren’t stone but a soothing, welcoming off-white. There are a couple stained-glass windows creating a kaleidoscope of color at the edges of the room, but they’re modest and small. Not domineering and almost threatening.
We take a seat toward the front. Zaiden sits close to me, his hand resting on my leg as I lean into his side. My eyes continue to look around as I take in the very different feel of this church than the one I’d committed my life to for the last three years.
“Was your husband Catholic?” Zaiden asks.
I shake my head. “Baptist, I think,” I say quietly. “I guess I don’t really recall since I never went with him. We didn’t get married at a church because I didn’t want to. It was our compromise. No church and I’d let him add God into our ceremony.” I look at him, bemused. “As long as I was allowed to approve it all. He was fair, and I considered myself being generous since God and faith and all that shit was mentioned at least a dozen times.”
My gaze travels to the front before dropping to the bracelet on my wrist. “Honestly, as long as we weren’t getting married in a church, I’d have let him write whatever he wanted in the ceremony,” I admit quietly.
“Why did you choose Catholic?” he asks.
My hands fist for a minute before he takes the one closest to him and gently pulls my fingers loose. He twists his with mine, and I stare at the way our hands fit. His skin is soft. I swallow.
“I don’t know. Because I thought if anyone was going to force me to believe this shit”—I wince as I look around apologetically to no one. That was rude—“that it would be the radical cutthroat bullies.”
Zaiden snorts. “That’s a strange reasoning and yet, I can completely understand it too.”
“I didn’t know you went to church,” I say.
He shakes his head. “I don’t often. Sometimes when I’m feeling a little stressed or sad or something, I’ll go. But that’s the thing. There’s no one right way to be faithful. There’s no correct way to pray. I don’t have to come here and devote my entire waking, breathing life to proving that I’m a good Christian. I’m honest. I try to be kind. I give to a handful of charities. And I pray on my own.”
“And your sexuality doesn’t matter,” I say.
Zaiden chuckles. “El, I didn’t even think about my sexuality until I met you. Even then, I didn’t really think about it. I’ve never truly questioned something that felt right in my life. If I’m filled with a sense of peace and rightness, I just assume that’s what I’m supposed to be doing. Where I’m supposed to be going.” He squeezes my hand. “Who I should be with.”
“God’s plan?” I ask, raising a brow and meeting his eyes.
He grins. “I control my destiny. My future. My life. It’s my plan. My faith gives me the strength and confidence to achieve it because that translates to faith and confidence in myself.”
“He would have liked you,” I say quietly, looking at the front of the pulpit again.
“Your husband?” Zaiden asks.
I nod.
