To Slay a Dragon

To Slay a Dragon

How had I been talked into this meeting? It had been Dan. He could probably persuade a lion to be a vegetarian. I had started this church thing as a lark, a way to visit my brother more and to bring Jake out of hiding. After an initial uncertainty, Jake had taken to the whole thing like a proverbial duck to water. He even had the gaggle of middle aged women, the dedicated core of the church, wrapped around his finger with his cooking skills. Sam had discovered Jake could sing, and he’d roped him into choir duty -- something about a desperate shortage of tenors. It was true in the choir that women outnumbered men by a ratio of five to one. I also suspected that Sam enjoyed having a second choir member who didn’t take communion, even though I wasn’t sure how long that situation was going to last by the number of books that had appeared around our house about the Episcopal faith and Christianity in general.

Dan was sitting in the armchair across from me, trying to look casual. He was dressed in jeans and a rugby shirt, no sign of religious symbols on his person or his office. “I understand Jake’s stuck at work.”

“Yeah, I don’t understand the specifics -- something about structural steel and epoxy -- but it’s the real deal if that’s what you’re thinking. I could hear Stu in the background moaning about freezing his ass at a construction site after dark.”

Dan coughed. “I thought you two had a no swearing pact.”

“Sorry.” I blushed.

“Are you that nervous about talking to me? We can do this next time Jake’s here, or we can go over to my house if you’re more comfortable out of this environment.”

“No, I’m fine.” Who was I kidding? I’m sure Dan could see right through me; he had a knack for that. Dan had conned us in to doing pre marriage counseling and part of it was discussing religion. What was the big deal? I had plenty of reasons to not be Catholic, starting with hey I’m gay, and my brother’s an Episcopal priest.

“We can talk about football if you’d rather, or your taste in Christmas decorations. I’ve been by your house; all you need is the flashing liquor advertisement.”

“That was Jake and Justin. Jake’s never had a chance to decorate for the holidays beyond a small tree. They did get carried away. Hopefully next year I can convince him that a more subdued display would be nice.”

“I understand you have many family commitments at Christmas. Is Jake handling that OK?”

“I don’t think he knows what he’s in for yet. It helps that he’s making friends with Andy. Andy doesn’t back down from a fight.”

“Are you talking about religion or something else?”

“If anyone picks on Jake, he’ll be there.”

“And so will you.” Dan said with a smile. “I understand you and Andy were tight when you were both kids, all the way through college.”

“We’re a close family.”

“Nothing else?”

I looked at Dan, wondering what he was getting at.

“You didn’t tell him secrets?”

“I told him I was gay, but I think he’d already guessed that, and he told me he wasn’t doing the Catholic thing anymore.”

“Anything else?”

“No, just little boy stuff. Who looks hot and things? Of course for me it was always the guys who looked hot.” I laughed, but when I looked over at Dan he’d managed only a tiny smile and his eyes looked grim.

“When did you first know you were gay?”

“I was getting pretty suspicious at fifteen when I didn’t want to take any girls out.”

“You were in Catholic school then. How did that make you feel?”

“How do you know so much about my background?” I rubbed my hands together. I could feel a slight sweat breaking out.

“I’ve talked to Andy extensively about his religious background. I assume yours is similar.” Dan took a sip of tea and watched me. His expression was kind, but unwavering.

I had a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach that he wanted me to uncover more than I was willing to give. Private things that were best kept private. They were hurting no one if left in my past.

“Are you going to Christmas Eve mass with your parents?”

That was a rapid shift of gears. I shook my head, confused and trying to follow the conversation. “I always do. My mother would be heartbroken.”

“Do you still consider yourself Catholic?”

“No, I’m gay. There’s not much room for gays in Catholicism. You know that,” I said with a dismissive shrug.

“Faith is a mysterious thing. I know gay Catholics. I don’t know how they do it, but there are plenty of them out there. Is there any other reason you’re not Catholic?”

“No.” I stood up to refresh my tea. I wanted out of Dan’s gaze. His eyes were too knowing.

“You went to Catholic school?”

“Until my junior year. But it was post Vatican II, not a lot of nuns in habit running around with rulers.”

Dan gave me a small smile, but I could tell he wasn’t being deflected by my attempt at levity. I relaxed the hand that I had in my lap and took a sip of tea, trying to keep my movements calm and casual. I didn’t think I fooled Dan for a moment. I didn’t know if his insight came from his training or his natural instincts, but he was hard to hide from. I fought the impulse to pull my legs up onto the chair and wrap my arms around them. I might as well hold up a flashing neon sign that something was bothering me.

“Why did you change schools?”

“I didn’t want to go to Catholic school anymore.”

“Did you have friends at the public high school?”

“No, but what does this have to do with couples counseling?” I snapped.

My sudden bad temper didn’t alter Dan from his line of questioning. He softened his voice and looked concerned, his gray eyes watchful. “You’re in a relationship that requires absolute honesty. That starts with being honest with yourself. You can’t expect your partner to share his thoughts and feelings with you if you cannot even share your own with yourself.” Dan sat quietly, watching and waiting.

I heard the tick of the clock over his desk; it was a cheap, round, generic clock. I remembered sitting in Algebra, listening to the clock. The time moved just as slowly as when Mrs Dunlap droned on about the quadratic equation. Finally after what seemed like hours but was only five minutes Dan spoke again.

“Why did you change schools?”

“It was a long time ago.”

“Quill, I talk to a lot of people. Don’t lie to me.”

My head snapped up, and I stared at Dan. He was sitting in the chair, unruffled. At least for me, accusing people of lying was outside the boundaries of casual conversation. I stared out the window. Outside the glow of the street lamps did nothing to warm the chill that had swept over the room. I watched the reflection of the car lights as they flashed along the wall.

I heard Dan’s voice again, almost as if it were at a distance or through a layer of cloth. He had an amazing ability to modulate his voice into different tones, I thought, my mind grasping for anything but the memories that were forcing themselves to the surface.

“I have no power to make you tell me anything, and I won’t tell you any feel good pop psychology that you’ll feel immediately better by telling me. But I will tell you that hiding from yourself never ends well. I know something happened. Andy remembers it well.”

“Nothing happened. Andy wasn’t there.” I couldn’t stop myself now; I pulled my knees to my chest and rocked myself in the chair.

“Andy was home sick that day; he had strep throat. He was upstairs, hiding under the blanket when all the shouting was taking place in the kitchen. His big brother, who never raised his voice and never talked back to his parents, was screaming and cursing. His mom was crying, and his dad left the house with a bang, not to return until the next day. He remembers his mom telling everybody that dad was away on business and you going suddenly quiet. You stopped playing soccer with him or willingly being the extra man for any sports he was playing with his friends. As Andy put it, you suddenly got these weird friends who dressed in black and talked about witches and warlocks.”

“I wasn’t dabbling in the occult if he’s afraid for my soul.” I said, trying to make a joke, which fell totally flat.

“Dungeons and Dragons, I would guess, given your age,” Dan said quietly.

I nodded. What else did Dan know?

“Andy didn’t understand what happened. But later when reports came out about the Catholic clergy and boys, he put two and two together. Is he right?”

“Oh, God. Is that why he’s an Episcopalian? He never told me.” I swiped at my eyes with my hand and reached into my pocket. I groped around until I found the loop of string. I couldn’t concentrate on the intricate string figures, but I twirled it on the end of my finger before scrunching it into my hand and repeating the process. 

“Was he right?” Dan repeated.

“I wasn’t raped,” I said fiercely.

I thought I saw Dan’s lips move silently in prayer before he asked, “What did happen?”

“It was the history teacher and soccer coach.” I could see it now like it was yesterday, his fingers running down my face and torso. I shivered.

“What happened?” Dan prompted again.

I heard my voice, but it was if it was coming from someone else’s mouth. “Brother Erikson had kept me late after soccer practice, running laps. I was the only one in the locker room.” I could still picture the locker room as if I were there -- the smell of mold, sweat and Bengay, the always damp and cold cement floor, the rusted and banged up lockers. “I was tired, and I collapsed on a bench, pulled my T-shirt off, and wiped the sweat from my eyes. Erikson walked in. He was a big, blond guy like his name suggested. His thighs almost looked entrapped within his thin shorts. I remember how big his arms were; they were bigger than my thighs.”

**********

Erikson stood over me, his hands on his hips. “Are you tired, boy? I expect more effort tomorrow.”

“Yes, sir.”

Erikson grabbed me by the wrist and pulled me up. With his other hand, he traced a slow line down my face and chest, hesitating as he reached the top of my shorts. “I know what you are, boy. You can’t hide from me.”

I shivered and tried to pull back. He was too strong, his hand like steel around my wrist. 

***********

I fell silent. Dan was sitting absolutely quiet, his gray eyes shrouded. I ran my fingers down my slacks. At the time, I don’t think I realized how close it had been. It was almost more frightening in memory.

“What happened next?”

“My friend showed up, and Erikson returned to his office like nothing had happened.”

*************

“Quill. Quill, where are you? Mom’s waiting.” The door banged shut and Pete bounced into the locker room, skidding to a halt in front of us. “Oh, hi, Brother Erikson.”

“Hello, Peter.” Erikson said in a quiet voice of authority. “Quill will be ready in a minute.”

“I’m ready now,” I said, pulling on my sweaty shirt.

“Aren’t you going to change, boy?” Erikson said. I shook as he said the word boy.

“No, sir,” I said, already fleeing the locker room. Pete trailed after me. I jumped into his mom’s car.

“Quill, are you OK?” Pete’s mom asked me, turning her head and giving me a concerned look.

“I want to go home. I don’t feel well.”

**********************

“Pete’s mom took me home. I think she knew something was wrong, but back then people would never have guessed. That was before Boston and all the other revelations. I’m not sure I even knew it back then. It felt wrong when Brother Erikson touched me, but I was just as afraid of being found out to be a faggot. It was a sin,” I whispered, my voice breaking.

Dan merely nodded. He sat quiet, so quiet I wondered if he were in a trance or meditating. After he’d nodded, the only motion was the slow rise and fall of his chest. He sat almost limp in the chair, his big hands unfurled on his lap.

I felt the tears start to course down my face. I didn’t know why I was crying but once I started I couldn’t stop. After several minutes, I stopped even trying to check the flow and  let the tears roll down my face, unchecked to my shirt below.

Dan stood and placed a full box of tissues on a small table within reach but made no effort to touch or speak to me. Instead he went over to his desk and through my haze of crying I thought I heard him on the phone with someone. I couldn’t seem to process  what he was saying, and I let myself sink into a morass of tears. Maybe he was calling Sam and letting him know he’d be late home because one of his pseudo parishioners was having a breakdown. Dan sank down on the floor in front of his desk, folding his legs into a neat bundle as if he thought he’d have long to wait.

I was still choking back tears when the door flew open and Sam flung himself into the room. Did he ever do anything at normal speed? I felt completely incapable of coping with Sam and buried my face in my arms. I think from the scuffling sounds I heard Dan must have grabbed Sam and pulled him into his lap. I heard a whispered conversation and then a more heated exchange between the two of them.

I jerked as a hand settled on my shoulder.

“It’s only me,” Sam said softly with a goofy grin on his face. “I’m about as bottom boy as you can get so no need to panic. I can probably even find a towel. You know, a towel like The Hitch Hiker’s Guide to the Galaxy. I’ve cried rivers of tears, nothing to be ashamed of. Dan’s good at making people cry. I’m in deep shit for barging in. I’ll probably be crying tonight.” Sam continued with his reassuring babble as he grabbed my wrist, pulled me out of the chair, and led me down the hall to the bathroom. “Wash your face. You’ll feel a lot better. Dry, sticky tears feel nasty. Trust me, I have a lot of experience with this. You tops don’t know how cleansing a good cry can be.”

I splashed my face with water and dried it with the proffered towels. I couldn’t say that I felt better from my flood of tears, but at least the cold water soothed my red cheeks. I glanced at myself in the mirror; I looked truly awful -- red, bloodshot, and swollen eyes.

“Let’s go make some cocoa. It always makes me feel better.”

Sam pulled me along, and I trailed after him like a small child. I was surprised at my willingness to follow along like a sheep, but something about Sam was comforting. For a man who usually whirled around like tumbleweed in a tornado, he was projecting a matter of fact calm and unquestioning acceptance. 

Sam clanked around the church kitchen, boiling water and filling two mugs with chocolate powder. “You know I had tons of shitty things happen to me when I was young. If you want to compare notes, it won’t bother me. Dan has probably heard everything, and he’s very good about being calm and reassuring. He’s damn good at slaying the dragons, got St George beat all over.” Sam gave me another one of his wide grins as he passed me a mug of steaming cocoa.

I wrapped my hands around the mug. I’d never been much of a cocoa drinker, but the chocolate went down my throat surprisingly smoothly, and drinking the cocoa gave me a good reason not to talk. Sam had gone back to searching the cupboards again. He emerged triumphant with a package of cookies.

“I knew Dan kept these here. He had them well hidden behind the vinegar.” Sam shoved two cookies in his mouth and tossed the package towards me. “Crying lowers the blood sugar. Have some.”

I didn’t think I believed Sam’s comment about low blood sugar, but I took a cookie anyway. I was too exhausted to argue over even a small detail like a cookie. Sam tried to sit still. He was clearly trying to be calm for my sake, but he couldn’t prevent himself from bouncing around the kitchen every few minutes. 

“Let’s go back to Dan’s office, or he’ll come looking for us.”

I followed Sam back through the hallways past the plaques to generous sponsors and the bland donated artwork to the office. Dan was deep in conversation with Andy. They both turned as we came in, and Andy immediately engulfed me in a tight hug.

“Are you OK?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” I said, struggling to get out of his embrace.

“Yeah, and you’d tell me you were fine if you’d just cut one leg off with a chainsaw and a pack of devils were chasing you.”

“I’m not that bad,” I said, outraged. It’s hard to sound too outraged when you’re being smothered in your brother’s arms. 

“You are.” My brother chuckled and released me. He studied me closely; he had dad’s blue eyes. Andy’s eyes were usually teasing and laughing, but now he looked serious with slight creases on his forehead. I had the sudden shock that he was no longer my little brother but a man, forthright and confident. “Do you want to tell me why Dan said I needed to come over?”

My first thought was an unhelpful no. Instead I shrugged and muttered, “I think you’ve already guessed, but it wasn’t as bad as you thought.”

Andy raised his eyebrows and looked over at Dan and Sam. I’m sure giving me a chance to ask for more privacy.

“It’s fine if they stay. Sam knows something’s wrong, and I’ve already told Dan.”

Andy gripped my hand, offering me wordless strength. He didn’t say anything, but I could tell he expected me to continue.

“Erikson, the soccer coach, touched me,” I said as casually as I could.

“He molested him and threatened to expose his sexuality,” Dan said, his tone as uncompromising as his words.

“He didn’t rape me, and it only happened once.” I heard myself babble.

“Bastard!” Andy hissed. His eyes glittered a dark, dangerous blue. I saw him take a deep breath, clearly trying to calm and center himself. “I wished you’d shared this with me.” 

The censure was light, but still I could hear myself mumbling an incoherent apology. “I didn’t know you’d guessed.”

“You never fought with our parents. Suddenly you were different: stopped playing sports, hung out with those weirdoes, and played fantasy games.”

“Sorry,” I mumbled.

Andy grabbed my shoulder with his large hand and shook me lightly. He was a big guy; he’d played football both in high school and in college, and he still had the breadth across his shoulders and chest. “The world is not your responsibility.”

“Thanks,” I managed a feeble grin. 

Andy wrapped his arm around my shoulder and pulled me close. “I couldn’t ask for a better older brother, and don’t you forget that.”

I knew he meant it to lift my spirits, but I froze. Had Andy’s love for me driven him away from the Catholic church and who knows how many years of Maguire family history?

Andy must have felt my tension because he planted both his hands on my shoulders and spun me around to face him. He gave me a searching look that would’ve put Dan’s stares to shame.

“What?” I asked in the most innocent voice I could muster.

“Don’t even think about going there,” Andy said with surprise sternness. “You are not responsible for me leaving the Catholic church. It was but one factor of many. You can ask Dan; he made me spend days talking about it.”

“He’s right,” Dan said from the the far side of the room where he’d retreated to give us some privacy.

“I was called to serve God, not the the Catholic church,” Andy said with conviction and certitude.

“I think you two need to talk. Do you want me to stay?”

I looked at Dan who was lounging in the corner. He’d captured Sam and had him tucked  into his chest. Dan’s chin rested on Sam’s black hair. They looked as much like one as two. I wondered if Jake and I would ever fit together like that. The expression in Dan’s eyes was so kind that I bit my lip to keep from crying again.

“I’d like you to stay.”

Dan nodded and kissed the top of Sam’s head. “Run home and have something to eat besides chocolate and sugar. I’ll be home later.” 

Sam flashed Dan a blinding grin before he untangled himself from his partner’s arms. “I’ll leave you guys to your God talk. It’s really not my thing.” Sam started to bound out of the room, but then he stopped suddenly serious. “I know a little of what you’re going through. Call me if you want to talk. Make sure you tell Jake.”

“Thank you,” I murmured to Sam’s disappearing back. For all his goofiness, he’d shown enormous maturity and kindness towards me.

“He’s not what appears on the surface,” Dan said quietly. “His first twenty-five years were  awful by anyone’s standards. Sam’s right about telling Jake. Why don’t I call him and have him come over in about thirty minutes?”

I nodded. The thought of repeating my story again roiled my stomach, but Dan was right; Jake deserved to know.

“We’ll help you tell him,” Dan said. “It won’t get any easier if you keep putting it off.” 

Dan moved to the desk and the telephone, and my brother guided me down on the sofa, keeping his arm around my shoulder. Andy usually wasn’t this tactile, but it felt good to lean against his bulk. The sofa was worn with shoddy springs, and we both sank deeply into it.

“How much did you guess, Andy?” I said, my voice sounding small to my own ears.

Andy ran his hand down my back in a smooth, comforting gesture. “When it first happened, I knew you were angry, and I knew Mom was frightened. I heard you guys screaming and Mom crying that night. Nobody would tell me anything. Honestly I have to tell you I was frightened. It was like you took a hiatus from being my big brother. Braedon wasn’t you. He was obsessed with girls and cars. You’d always spent time with me, and then I had to beg you to throw the football around with me.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Shh, you had good reason, and I had plenty of friends. I think Mom knew right away that something had happened. I’m not sure that Dad ever did understand. It wasn’t something that was on parents’ radar back then like it is now.”

“Mom never did like Erikson. She hadn’t let me go on the ski trip the year before when he was a chaperone -- a mother’s intuition.”

Dan, who had been sitting quietly listening, broke in with a question. “Did your mom ever ask you directly?”

“Do you mean did Erikson molest me? No. But she did take me to see a therapist.”

“Did you talk to him?” Dan asked.

“It was a woman and no. I thought they wanted to trap me into saying I was gay.” I remembered a women in gold framed glasses sitting in a brightly painted room asking me questions. I ignored her, grunted at her, did my homework, anything but talk to her. My mother gave up after a couple of times.

“Institutionalized homophobia,” Andy hissed. “When are we going to stop hurting our children?”

“Andrew,” Dan said in a warning tone, “getting angry doesn’t make it better.”

“How can you sit there with such equanimity? You’re older than Quill. It had to have been awful when you were a kid.”

“I was lucky,” Dan said softly. “My father’s brother was gay. His partner was accepted and loved, even though everybody insisted on calling him a roommate. They taught me to love myself and that God loved me. Joe, my uncle’s partner, was the rector at St. Thomas. Of course then his congregation didn’t know he was gay. To do his calling he had to live a lie. I’m very blessed that I can tell the congregation who I am.”

“Yes, and it’s tearing the Anglican Communion apart,” Andy said angrily.

“The Anglican church has been known for its strife and dissent within its ranks for generations. It is both the curse and the blessing of our lack of central control. We’ll survive. We might lose some to Rome and some to the literalists in the non denominational churches, but each must go where his conscience calls. Your conscience and your love of God brought you here, and I am thankful for that every day, but change is a hard and frightening thing. We must be patient, and we must pray.”

“While young boys jump out windows or blow their brains out because they like Steve rather than Eve, and women get black eyes and broken arms because they are told to submit to their husbands, and thousands die in Africa because it’s a sin to use a condom.”

“Andrew it’s not our place to judge. People have struggled for centuries to interpret God’s word, and we have all made mistakes. Like everyone else, we don’t have a hotline to God.”

“Fuck! I don’t know how you can be so calm.”

 I looked at Andy surprised. I don’t think I’d ever seen this kind of temper outburst from him.

“Swearing and losing your temper doesn’t make it any better. It’s our role to teach and explain, not to condemn.”

“Sorry, Dan. I know you hate that.” Andy ducked his head, and I could see a faint blush from his cheeks.

“Remind me not to send you to the Catholics or the Southern Baptists for a friendly visit. I’d have to come clean up the bloodshed.” While I could tell that Dan was censuring Andy for his comments, he was also teasing. I suspected this was a conversation that they’d had many times.

“All you have to do is turn up in your collar with Sam, and they start waving the Bible at you as if it’s going to ward off evil spirits.”

“I know it can be quite entertaining to turn their world upside down. I’m sure it’s a sin to enjoy it.” Dan gave my brother a small smile, and his eyes twinkled with amusement. “As you can see your brother has deep emotions and deep commitments to the truth. His reasons for leaving the Catholic church were many and complex.”

Dan held me trapped in his gaze. He was a compelling and charismatic figure, and I could tell he believed every word he spoke. Nothing was a tired rite to trip off his tongue or empty platitudes.

“Do you remember Sister Agatha?” Andy asked.

I smiled and nodded. She’d been both mine and Andy’s fourth grade teacher. At least at the time, I thought she was ancient, but looking back on it I think she was only in her early sixties. She’d been a member of the Ursuline order, out of habit but always with a black head covering. She loved art projects. I remember making shadow boxes of famous saints. I did St. Francis with the animals. I dressed GI Joe in a bathrobe and surrounded him with tiny farm animals.

“I don’t know why, but I visited her through my years in high school,” Andy continued. “She was easy to talk to and had a sixth sense when something was bothering one of her students. Kind of like you and Dan.” Andy shot a grin at Dan. “I talked to her about the problems I was having with the Catholic church. She reminded me that my first goal was to serve God and that my calling might not be within the borders of the church. I don’t know if she meant to encourage me away form Catholicism or was afraid I was going to become an agnostic. My sophomore year of college I actually looked her up and talked to her about my vocation. After talking in circles for an hour, she said that she thought I would fight the yoke of authority and obedience and to make sure I understood my choice.” Andy fell silent for a minute. He seemed to look to Dan for reassurance. “It was the hardest choice I’ve ever made in my life, and I know I hurt my family.”

“You know I’m proud of you,” I said, wrapping my arm around Andy’s shoulder. This is where I felt more comfortable, giving comfort rather than receiving it. “Mom and Dad have gotten over it. An Episcopal priest is easier than a gay.”

“I guess.” Andy didn’t sound too convinced. “They’ve never heard me preach. You’re the only one who came when I was ordained.”

“And I won’t even cut my ties fully with the Catholic church,” I said with a snort, “even though the church’s teachings kick me in the teeth every day. Andy, I’m sorry. I’ve just had trouble with all churches, and I thought I’d shocked and disappointed my parents enough for one lifetime. I haven’t been Catholic since I was sixteen; I just wasn’t ready to be anything else.”

“You don’t have to be anything,” Andy said quickly. “We inherited a religion from our parents like we inherited eye color or freckles; religion should be entered into with an open heart and an open mind. For some, a pure individual relationship with God is better than corporate worship. Now as Christians, we do have a direct individual relationship with God, but community is equally important. As Episcopalians, we value scripture, tradition, and reason in equal proportions. Every Eucharist we stand together and recite the Nicene Creed, words that reaffirm the cornerstones of our faith and tie us together as a community both today and to the early Christians. We’re called to be part of a community of faith, to love one another and work together to do God’s will and spread his word, but that isn’t something I can, or would, force you into. Forced faith is no faith at all. That is a choice you must make on your own, and I will respect your choice whatever it is. Dan and I can answer your questions, but don’t choose because of me.”

“Thanks, Andy.” I murmured, my brother so grown up with such a deep understanding of himself. “You make me proud.”

“Me too,” Dan added.

I saw a true flush and a glimpse of a smile. Andy still looked like a teen when he was embarrassed. We sat silent for a few moments. I think all of us were trying to let the emotions settle back down. Andy got up, took the cookie package from the desk, grabbed a few, and hiked the package to me like a football.

“You know it wasn’t your fault,” Andy said.

I shrugged. Intellectually I knew. Erikson was the adult; he had the power. But why did I feel guilty?

“That bastard.” Andy ran his hand through his hair. “He played on your guilt and your fear.”

“Andy, it wasn’t that bad. He really didn’t do anything.”

Dan stood up and froze me with his formidable stare. “Yes, he did. He tried to use his authority to force himself on someone sexually without knowledge and without consent. You’re a top and even as a child those instincts probably saved you. Yes, you were lucky that Pete walked in, but you knew to get away and stay away. You didn’t submit; it’s not your nature.” Dan took a deep breath and sighed. “It’s not your fault that man tried to attack you; it’s not your fault that you’re gay; and it’s not your fault that your brother’s not a Catholic priest. Do you understand me?”

“Yes, sir.” That was the only answer that I could muster with Dan staring at me, his eyes like sharp steel.

“You don’t believe me, but hopefully you will someday.” Dan gave me one of his small smiles and sat down. 

“I’d listen to him,” Andy said poking me in the ribs with his elbow. “He’s usually right.”

I was saved from answering by a sharp rap on the door.

“Come in,” Dan called.

Jake walked in, looking breathless and pale, his hair soaked by the rain. “Quill.” He launched himself at my arms. 

Andy slid over, and I caught Jake, pulling him down next to me. “Everything’s fine, honey. It’s just a little something in my past that Dan thought I should tell you.”

The story came out smoother the third time around. Jake never interrupted, but about halfway through he crawled up in my lap and wound his arms around my neck. Jake was never this demonstrative in public, and I’m sure he considered Andy and Dan to be in public. He’d only touched my arm when he introduced me to his parents.

Like Andy, Jake’s first response was to swear when I finished the sordid tale. “Asshole,” he cursed. “You were so strong. I would never have been able to tell my parents I had to transfer.” Jake melted into my body, rubbing his face against my neck. “What happened to him?”

“Erikson? I don’t know.”

“He wasn’t there the following year,” Andy said.

“I’ll call the archdiocese tomorrow and try to find out,” Dan said. “I think he’s too old to still be in the teaching profession, but just in case I’d like to make sure he’s not around any more kids.”

I swallowed hard. It’d never occurred to me that I hadn’t been the only one. Maybe my silence had let him hurt other boys?

“Don’t even think it,” Dan interrupted my thoughts. “In your day and age, it wouldn’t have mattered if you’d shouted it from the rooftops. He would’ve just been moved around. That’s how things were done back then,” Dan said bitterly. “And it wasn’t just the Catholic clergy. Plenty of it went on elsewhere, and children weren’t believed -- accused of making up tales to get out of trouble.”

I nodded. For me, it wasn’t that easy to dismiss the idea.

“We’ll work on it,” Dan said with a smile. “You’ve absorbed a lot of guilt. It won’t go away overnight.”

Why did I think Dan wouldn’t leave me alone until he was sure he’d exorcised my demons or slew the dragons, as Sam had put it? I could snow my brother with the right words and facial expressions, but I didn’t think that would fly with Dan, and surprisingly in the pit of my soul I was glad it wouldn’t. I could see why Sam looked like he worshipped Dan. I guess it was the aura of the top. The same aura I was supposed to be projecting to Jake without much success. Here was Jake shielding and giving me comfort.

“Go home and love yourselves tonight. You deserve it.” Dan walked towards me. It was the first time he’d come near my space since I told him. He reached down and very gently ran his hand over my hair as if he were petting a newborn kitten. “Let Jake take care of you tonight. It’s sometimes his role.” He then addressed his comments to Jake. “Take him home. Andy and I’ll bring his car home tomorrow.”

Jake untangled himself from my lap and found my car keys in my coat pocket. He handed them to Dan. I saw Dan reached forward, wrap his arms around Jake, and kiss his forehead.

“Trust me. It’ll be OK. It’s already easier for him than it was an hour ago.” Dan was speaking quietly, but he had to know I could hear. It was strange to hear someone speak about me in the third person, but somehow reassuring to know they were all watching out for me.

Jake followed Dan’s orders to the letter. I was driven home and tucked into an armchair in the living room in front of a blazing fire. Jake busied himself in the kitchen with something, but he left the door open and entertained and distracted me with a constant chatter about work and Stuart’s latest girlfriend. Thirty minutes later he appeared with cream chicken over toast, the ultimate comfort food, and herbed tea.

“I’m not going to shatter in the wind,” I said when I saw him with the tray.

“Indulge me,” Jake said with a huge smile. “It’s the brat’s right to spoil the top sometimes. Take an evening off from organizing the world for me.”

“I don’t organize the world for you.”

“You try.”

“And I’m terrible at it.” I thought of the first spanking. Poor Jake practically had to write in three foot tall red letters that he needed spanked, and I still stumbled through it. I was lousy at this top thing, and now my brat was taking care of me.

“No you’re not,” Jake said with surprising vehemence. “You don’t want to overstep your powers and that means a lot to me. It’s a power exchange, not a power grab, and you understand that. Maybe this horrible thing that happened to you as a child makes you more sensitive to it. But I love you and trust you just the way you are. Now be quiet and eat. Then we’ll go upstairs and have a nice bath, a massage, and if you’re still awake a few games of gin.”

“Yes, sir,” I said with a grin. Dan was right. Even in the last few hours, it had gotten easier. It would always be there but maybe I could look forward to a healed scar rather than a festering boil. All I knew was tonight I was going to love Jake.