Amorous Goods: The Priest's Agony

Amorous Goods: The Agony of Father Hernández

A lifelong collector of goods and objects from far and wide has passed and left the entire collection and the business built around them to the only remaining relative, a niece on a career path of her own. Vikki has taken on the task of administering the estate and liquidating the business and collection. However, she has come to find out that many of the goods have been cursed or enchanted with amorous powers that affect those who encounter them. These are the stories of some of those encounters with objects found at Amorous Goods.

~

The Priest wondered if he should pray for a miracle, concern growing inside him. Across the street, in front of that new & curiously named shop, angry shouts bloomed as two members of his flock began to fight. They heaved and grappled, one trying to wrest possession of something from the other, their bodies twisting, voices raised in anger.

Crossing the street at a run he planted his powerful frame between the two men, his thick arms easily prying them apart. They wilted under his stern gaze, red faced and eyes lowered, one still clutching an odd looking book to his chest protectively. Large and curiously bound in pink leather, its cover twelve people at dinner, smiling, cunningly detailed expressions that suggested...The Priest turned his eye to the title; "Pleasing Your Wife and Satisfying Your Guests: An Illustrated Guide to Good Manners".

He let the awkward silence hang between them, coolly appraising them, the book, the store. Apologies and vague explanations from the men, their mumbling halted at his upraised finger. He centered himself, of course it had to be Mr. Fairazee and Mr. Sadusi who tested him so often in confession.

"My Brothers this is," a broad gesture "unseemly."

"I'm sorry Father, I told them to hold the book for me and"

"I bought it first fair and square Mr Sadusi! I'm sorry Fath-"

"Enough! If you cannot share then make a copy? Otherwise I'd suggest you return this...book. Yes that's probably for the best" The Priest leaned in close, his tone harder "I could confiscate it, perhaps that would be easier for both of you, since you are unable to act in a godly manner right now?"

The notion of returning or confiscating the book united the men into a hasty apology and retreat, promising they would come to some suitable arrangement. The Priest, hardly believing he had diffused the situation so quickly, watched the two men, now quite agreeable, walk away almost arm in arm, the book close between them.

As he stood there in the hot sun watching the two departing figures, his attention was drawn to the store by a curious yet familiar smell that reminded him of...excitement, danger? He eyes crept over the flickering sign and the stores facade, and came to rest on a table placed outside with a most unusual pot, a hibiscus just beginning to bloom inside it.

He realized he was standing much closer, breathing hard, the fragrance now filling his head with a sense of unease despite it's beauty. Trying to slow his breath, he examined the pot. It appeared ancient, a remarkable reproduction really he thought, with a fascinating ancient Greek acrostic for the ICTHYS. Ancient Greece had always been his favorite subject, perhaps the store would...no, the Priest was not in a habit of walking strange paths, spending money of frivolities, and he was late as it was.

Deliberately turning away he took comfort in his faith, looking forward to his next task. As he crossed into the less fortunate part of town however, some faint too sweet stench lingered in his mind, a tiny seed of repressed memory and feelings had taken root, hidden under his current purposeful stride.

~

He arrived at his destination, a grim three story tenement over a dry cleaners who was kind enough to let The Priest run community programs out of their basement. As he entered, the reek of mold, a welcoming smell for once, greeted him along with a few hello's from the assembled teenagers.

He was proud of the kids and their efforts here. Focusing on volunteer clean up and beautification of their neighborhoods and local businesses, their efforts had brought in a lot of goodwill and a modest amount of donations he spent on essentials for the kids most in need. It was a modest and lonely struggle, but worth it. He tried to impart good religious values as well, as best one could with teenagers he thought wryly.

This evening's meeting went quickly, plans made for the next outing, a brief study session, refreshments served. The Priest always enjoyed the ending, the kids talking, a spirit of togetherness. He counted a dozen of them tonight, sipping orange drinks and laughing at a story one of them was telling.

The kid talking was his favorite, Harry. Just over 6', lanky and baby faced with the faintest hint of a moustache, dyed mohawk flopped to one side, trendy clothing choices from the thrift store. He was quite found of new fads and trying on new things, and the Priest reminded himself he now preferred to be called The Harold.

"Yeah Kevin that was pretty bussin right? Ok crazy bible fact time...for real check this out...so it's church canon, like actual pope law that Jesus went to this place, the garden of goth-semen or, no for real I swear that's the name!"

"Anyways Jesus went there and was tested. He saw every sin committed by every human being ever! Which means...I mean really think about that for a minute haha!"

"He must've seen all sorts of insane things for real for real! Like imagine all the sex stuff oh my god, he would have seen ALL of it, like you all been on the internet right, so you can imagine lol! And man...even after seeing what people can be like, he still decided to sacrifice himself for humanity. Absolute legend!"

The Priest wasn't amused at the hilarity the group shared. Silencing them with a look of reprimand, he thanked them for their good work and quoted what he thought was a relevant passage on righteous behavior. Looking at their faces, he knew he hadn't gotten through to them, had often felt he didn't connect with them like he could have, but they left happy and at least they would come back, continue to work together.

The Harold lingered behind, a solemn yet still somehow cheeky look in his eyes he drew himself erect and faced the Priest.

"You're a good man Father, but seriously it was just a meme....you need to lighten up a bit! Smile more, try new things! There's a really fun person inside you, you should let him out!"

"I appreciate your enthusiasm The Harold. That said, at my age you can't really change who you are, so I think I shall tread the path God has set before me, the one I have always walked." A rare smile on his face, touched as he was by the sentiment behind The Harold's words.

"Just as long as you remember that Father, if he chooses to set new paths at your feet"

A brilliant smile and a bow as The Harold left, his sudden and mysterious wisdom hanging in the air like something not quite real. The Priest locked up, walking into a humid evening he stepped quickly along his usual path home.

~

A mist congealed around the city giving an eerie sheen to everything. Nonetheless the Priest stepped lightly along, mind on autopilot as he contemplated The Harold's words, the earlier incident in front of the store, the flower in the unusual pot and...

The Priest was quite surprised when the white bird exploded up past his face, flitting across the street onto a lamp post, directly in front of a store, that store. He considered the bird with a creeping sense of unreality as he pondered if this was a dove and a sign of God's will, or an albino pigeon and he needed to go to bed early for once.

The store's lights beckoned, and he realized he was crossing the street, looking and sniffing the air with a kind of hunger. The table with the potted flower was gone. The Priest looked at the bird as he offered a prayer to St. Francis and entered the store.

The door's bell ringing in his ear, that smell again in the air, the Priest stood tall and scanned the store. He ignored the riotous display of strange items strewn about the shelves and tables, the elegant woman behind the counter and her greeting. Then he spotted it, the pot and its delicate flower, across the room at the rear of the store, where the counter ended and a back room began.

Drawn to it he moved closer without thinking, and as the flower's aroma filled his head he was overwhelmed with feelings, with long buried memories, and he knelt as if in prayer in front of the pot.

The memory was an old one long suppressed; Seamus and him were alone in the seminary dorm rooms, tasked with cleaning. Working together until they were soaked in sweat, the close laughter of friends, his soft brogue and softer lips. The look they shared, a hesitation, remembering promises not to sin again...the mad embrace that followed. That brief everlasting moment of joy. Then the head masters voice, hard words and harder consequences...

The Priest realized he had tears in his eyes even if there was no change in his expression, no sound, and alarmingly felt a long unaccustomed firmness growing in his pants, beginning to strain against the fabric. The store employee hovered a discrete distance away, arranging the haphazard displays convincingly. He could not remember the last time he had cried, let alone the last time he had...embarrassment warred with the strangely liberated feeling he had in his chest. Feeling as he wasn't quite on solid ground, he steadied himself, shyly accepting the tissue from the employee, he remained kneeling for a moment until his eyes were dry, his ardor cooled

"Yes, its fragrance is quite lovely." a warm smile "It is amazing isn't it, how such things can pull the strings of our...hearts...songs of people and times gone by" real kindness in her eyes, her voice "I'm Vikki, lovely of you to stop by Father."

"Thank you Vikki." A sense of disbelief spreading in him "I'm sorry to have disturb..."

"Nonsense, here," an elegant chair pulled from behind the counter and placed in front of the table with the flower "sit down, relax for a moment, please."

"You're very kind."

"Sybil! Can you bring us some tea please?" shouted at the back room, she excused herself when there was no answer.

The Priest looked at the flower, its petals just beginning to bloom, dark red on white. Memories crept in again tangled in the fragrance he fought for control. His sense of normalcy slipping, he examined the pot to distract himself, wondering at it, the ancient Greek acrostic, translating it in his head.

"What was that you said Father?" Vikki beside him again, laying out some sugar and milk in anticipation.

"Jesus Christ, Son of God, Savior. The inscription here, that's what it would be in English."

"I wasn't aware, fascinating"

"The pot is an amazing reproduction, truly remarkable."

"Is it?" a coy smile.

"Surely...I mean..." Helpless gestures, the feeling of unreality growing.

"Are you more interested in the container or what it holds Father?"

The question settled on him with unexpected weight, like it held some complexity just out of reach. "I, uhh..." She kindly interrupted him.

"My uncle did have quite the remarkable collection Father I assure you." An expression of surprise "Oh my, I forgot to put out the card, from the seeds I used for this. I wasn't sure what to expect when I planted it, let me get it"

Vikki returned from the counter placing a small and yellowed paper card folded in half, the typed words faded: "Flowers from the Garden of Gethsemane". The Priest felt as is a tree had fallen on him, stunned with that sense of ever growing unreality, a crushing tightness in his chest. His mind whirled, the story of The Harold and his words after, the dove, the flower, the pot...

"Ah lovely, the tea! Thank you Sybil"

A smell of marijuana preceded a frenzy of clattering cups. A woman, presumably Sybil, clad in long flowing white robes and some kind of flower headband, served the tea with a warm if rambling greeting.

"Yes...yes thank you. Sybil is it?" nervous laughter with a feeling as if he was in a waking dream "One of the Sybil's, or perhaps the Sybil? I suppose you'll have some kind of oracular vision for me?" a choking sound that was almost laughter.

Vikki had a curious if puzzled expression, as if waiting and wanting to laugh but not quite sure. Sybil's face changed instantly and she confronted the Priest with an indignant look.

"Hey my glasses are prescription ok, and yeah, they're thick like me so if you have a problem with that I sugg"

"Sybil I'm sorry" a gesture of supplication "That is no, not what I, I'm sorry"

Sybil maintained a skeptical look while Vikki had the grace to hide her amusement

"What I mean is, I thought in light of everything else tonight, that you, Sybil, would, its hard to explain" he trailed off, then with an encouraging nod from Vikki "It's just I half expected you'd have some kind of prophecy for me. I know that must sound crazy..." words falling off again looking into Vikki's bemused expression, and Sybil's uncomprehending one.

"Wait! Yes. YES!" Sybil had both hands extended index fingers pointed at the Priest

"Yes?"

"Yes! Ok first I need a hit then my cards and my..." Sybil whirled, her voice trailing off as she ran into the back room

The Priest looked at Vikki, and sipped then gulped some tea, unable to say anything coherent at the moment. Vikki grabbed the potted flower, taking it to the register.

"I'll make some room for your reading Father, and I'll have it over here for you when you're ready to go."

The Priest tried to pray then but he jumped in his seat as Cybil slapped a deck of cards on the table, spilling tea as she dragged another chair into place.

"OK! Let's get right to business Father, your hand please we'll start with the basics."

Grabbing his meaty hand her eyebrows raised in appreciation "Father! Most impressive" Her fingers grabbed his pinky and his thumb and spread them as far apart as possible "Oh my, ooohhh my look at that" she held up his huge hand spread out to Vikki proudly as if it was hers.

The Priest sat uncomprehending, Vikki now openly fighting the amusement clear on her face. Sybil flipped his hand, and after following some lines and patterns she saw snorted in disappointment and dropped his hand.

"Typical! Gods what a cliche well not to judge of course Father you do you. Well, I didn't see anything else, let's see what the cards have to say"

"I...what?" a pained expression, a confused look at his hand, now returned

Sybil begin to shuffle the deck, and then placed it ceremoniously in front of him.

"Pick three cards Father, one at a time, and place them face up in front on you. Do not move them once placed down." Her words a solemn incantation.

The Priest reached out, steadied his trembling hand and drew the first card, turning it over on the table. A horseman, a knight with a large club, its polished brown knob held proudly aloft.

"The Knight of Wands." Eyes glinting as she looked him up and very slowly down, a regretful sigh followed by a pensive look "I think...I feel that you're about to begin...that you've begun a journey of some kind. Please, draw another card."

The Priest said nothing, a primal fear rising in him in this strange place with this strange ritual, he again wanted to pray but could not find the words. He sighed almost as if in pain as he slid the card from the deck and placed it face up. Two figures, a man and woman, naked, an angel in the sky above, a burning bush beside the man, a fruit tree with a snake beside the woman, Adam and Eve he thought, surprised.

"The Lovers! Oh Father hmmm.." her eyes glazed over only to snap back onto his with a fervent glare "You will soon have...some new and exciting experiences Father," a sly smile "I think you should follow..." a quick glance downwards "...your heart.. A last card, please."

The Priest was telling himself now that this wasn't real, the events earlier that led him here, this...this prophecy, none of it was real. Opening his mouth to rebuke them, himself, for this superstitious nonsense he instead drew the last card as he held his breath, setting it in place in front of him. A skeletal rider on a pale horse, a bloody scythe, and a field of dead men from farmers to kings.

"Death." the flat intonation sounded final, stilling the three of them, their eyes locked on the grim figure. The Priest's fear threatened to turn into actual terror.

"Oh Father," a warm hand laid on his, a reassuring nod "This is an excellent development!" A bright smile

The Priest still rendered speechless, raised his eyebrows in disbelief and gestured at the card repeatedly, silently entreating Sybil and Vikki.

"It's not what you think! Death here rarely means death uhh physical death you understand? And you look mmm quite fit Father" she adopted a thoughtful tone "I feel for you this means an end to old things, and the start of something new. It will be hard I'm afraid, you'll need to be brave. Wellll good luck on your journey, it should be interesting at least!"

He nodded and mumbled his thanks though he wasn't entirely sure for what. Sybil stood and collected her cards and the tea, leaving them with a promise to see Vikki tomorrow and a last word for the Priest.

"I can tell you're a decent guy Father, just hold onto that and no matter what happens, you'll be good. Byyyyye!" She left shouting various encouraging remarks, her voice suddenly cut off by the slamming of the back door. The Priest jumped slightly startled by Vikki's hand on his shoulder.

"Do you need a moment or two Father? I'll ring up your purchase, whenever you're ready."

He watched her walking back to the counter, then glancing at the door and judging the distance, he tensed himself to run. Heaving himself out of his seat, he strode over to the register.

"How much do I owe you?"

~

The Priest left the store, crossing its threshold back into the night. The city seemed unreal, obscured by the thick mist, he stumbled along, his burden surprisingly heavy in his hands. Almost dizzy from the events of the day, he made his way home with a look of mild disbelief still on his face.

Entering his quarters off of the church, he placed the pot on the table sweeping it clear with his arm. Sinking into a chair he stared at it, inhaling deeply. He felt unsteady, afraid, feeling as if on the cusp of something momentous. He remembered The Harold's words about the visions in the garden, all of mans sins laid bare, his memory in the store, so vivid. He hesitated...used to giving help rather than asking...then despite the hour called his closest friends, Jean, James and Pete.

They arrived as quickly as they could, drawn by the roots of their friendship and the unusual request for aid from their normally steady friend. The Priest took them in his arms as they arrived, grateful for a sense of realness and comfort. They gathered around the table, staring at the flower; Pete his newest friend, muscular and charismatic still wearing his tie from the office, James his oldest friend a huge bear of a man clad in denim and leathers, and shy Jean the youngest and quite like the little brother of the group particularly to James, dressed in his usual understated street fit

As Pete wheeled his chair in closer to examine the pot, the Priest began to tell them of the events so far, but as much as he tried opening up, he left out many details, particularly of his memories of his time in seminary.

The Priest considered what to do, and decided he must face follow His example and spend the night in prayer, asking his friends join with him. His friends quickly agreed, hands clasped in fellowship, comforting their friend, themselves. Their vigil was prepared in the living room, the men quietly setting to their meditations and prayers.