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knew she was going with or without me. I took her hand and we stumbled out of the comfortable bed.
We shared a quick shower that was highlighted by some playful flirting, some not-so-playful groping and a little bit of soap. I ruffled through my bag and found a skirt and blouse outfit that was presentable. McKayla was dressed in a yellow sundress that only made her more radiant. Her hair was pulled back. I admired and envied her beauty at the same time.
The service was a typical mass. For me, that meant boring with lots of Latin that I didnt understand. I followed McKaylas lead when she stood, knelt and sat. The service wasnt packed, but it wasnt empty either. I looked around nervously, especially after I inadvertently slipped my hand inside hers at one point during the sermon.
I withdrew it a second later, afraid that maybe wed be stoned or cast out as the priest was saying mass. It was an odd experience for me. I was used to showing my affection for my lovers publicly and without shame. Now, I had to watch myself. I chewed on my lip as the full implications hit me.
If what McKayla and I shared was more than a one night fling, if we really had something, could I live my life hiding some secret? What would my family think? Would I lose my job because of this? Could we go out in public and hold hands or kiss and not worry about someone taking a swing at us?
As I looked over at McKayla, who wasnt paying any attention to my silent musings, I realised that my life was at a crossroads. The only question was what I was going to do.
The service ended as I was in the middle of my contemplations. We go up to leave. Several people stopped by to greet McKayla. She introduced me as her "friend".
Is that what I was? Her "friend"? I stood by, trying not to look obviously infatuated with her, but at the same time, not wanting to appear aloof or snobby. I smiled a lot and didnt say much.
The people at her church were warm and friendly. A part of me felt as if each one were scrutinising me, as if they knew and were going to shout it out at any moment. But they said nothing of the sort and soon we were back in her car. The top was down and our hair whipped around in the warm breeze. We held hands.
"Want to go out or get something at home?" she asked.
I just shrugged. I didnt care as long as I was with her.
She drove back to her house and made a full breakfast. Once again, she wouldnt hear of me helping her out. I sat on a barstool at the end of her counter as she talked and cooked.
McKayla set a plate of bacon, eggs, hashed browns and toast down in front of me. "Thanks for going to church with
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me, Amberle. You didnt have to and I appreciate that."
I began to nibble at my food. There were some things I wanted to ask, but I didnt know if this was the time. I looked up and her eyes were on me. They seemed to bore right through me.
"Youre wondering why I go, arent you?" she said softly.
My reply stuck in my throat. She flashed a knowing smile.
"I wonder that a lot myself."
"Why the Catholic church?" I blurted out. "Why not one thats more . . ."
My voice trailed off.
"More what?" she asked, an impish grin on her face. "More gay?"
I was relieved that she could at least find something funny in this conversation. "Well . . . yeah."
She shrugged. "I grew up Catholic. Its not something you just give up. Theyre not so bad . . . despite what you think about the Pope."
I blushed and looked away.
Neither of us spoke for a long while. I searched for the right words. "I just dont know that I could stick around people who condemned me or my lifestyle. How can you go to a church that says that the most basic part of your life is a sin?"
Had I just pushed my luck with McKayla too far?
She had a thoughtful look and smiled reassuringly at me. "Were all sinners. Every one of us. If not for being a homosexual, then for coveting or stealing or whatever. Our lives are filled with sin, and it is only through the Grace of God that we are saved. I am reminded of that Grace every time that I go to church. I guess I could go to a different church, but there is something . . ."
Her gaze grew distant for just a second.
"Theres something comforting about the rituals and liturgy of the Catholic Church," she continued. "Ive been worshiping that way all my life. Some people think that our services are staid and boring and not very contemporary, but I like its regularity. I like that I know when to stand up, sit down and sing. Sometimes . . . sometimes, I think that predictability is what has kept me sane . . ."
I reached out and touched her hand, wondering how much she was going to open up to me today. I wanted to let her know how much I appreciated the trust she was showing in me.
For a second she was silent, as if lost to a memory. Then she blinked and was back in the present. "I go to that church because theyre actually pretty friendly towards gays and lesbians. Oh, not openly, Father cant come out directly in opposition to the Pope, but for the most part, that parish is much more open-minded than mainstream America would like you to believe about Catholics."
"So why does the church so vehemently oppose homosexuals?" I asked. "Not that I want you to speak for Catholics everywhere."
McKayla chuckled. "Why does any church oppose homosexuality?"
I shrugged.
"Because every church is one generation away
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