FH: Just Found Heaven Ch. 04: Ben

Patrick's steadfast belief in God's saving grace, his warmth, his ease in the kitchen... all those were things that reminded me of my family before everything had gone sideways. Standing here, I realized that I'd missed that comfort from both my family, and from God.

"I'll go upstairs and see Charlie if you truthfully answer the question that I asked you earlier."

"Which one?"

I knew damn well which one, and Patrick knew I knew it, but he smiled anyway, not budging from his side of the counter.

"Are you ok?"

"I'm fine."

Patrick clucked his tongue lightly in gentle disapproval. "I asked for a truthful answer, Ben. From everything Charlie's told me about you, and what I know in general about people who are going through difficult times, especially the loss of a loved one, I doubt you're, 'fine.' Confused, terrified, and maybe a little lost. Definitely so angry you'd probably kick every can you found down the street one way and then back up the other if you weren't working so hard to exude detached reliability."

"I'm not detached, and I'm not in love with Charlie."

"I didn't say that you were in love with him. I said that you love him. He's your friend, and your family, and you're devoted to him. When he's called home by God, the loss will take a part of you with him because that's what happens to everyone who loses someone who matters to them, especially someone who offered them a sense of redemption when they needed it."

I was beginning to wonder if Patrick was actually a priest or a mind reader. "You think I needed redemption? Because I was a hooker?"

Patrick didn't blink at my deliberate choice of the more derogatory term for my previous career choice. "Nope," he said, not breaking eye contact. "I think you felt, and maybe still feel like you need redemption because you believe that you failed your family, and that's why they cut you out of their lives."

I couldn't keep the sudden heat out of my voice, lunch prep derailed for the moment.

"Charlie had no right to tell you any of that."

"He told me because he loves you, and he's worried that you'll try and cope in unhealthy ways when he dies."

"Like going back to hooking?"

"Nope," Patrick said again. "More like closing yourself off from trying for something more real with someone who you won't be afraid to open up to."

"I don't need anyone playing matchmaker for me."

"I actually agree with you, and I told him that."

I arched an eyebrow. I hadn't been expecting that. "You agree with me?"

Patrick nodded. "I don't think that anyone should rush into a romantic relationship while they're still trying to figure themselves out."

"I know who I am," I said, not able to keep the irritation out of my voice.

"You know some of who you are, but first you were an escort, and then you became Charlie's companion. Those were all roles that you sort of fell into, and while none of that's bad, especially not the obviously genuine affection between you and Charlie, you've still been making other people the focus of your world instead of giving yourself some grace and putting yourself first."

"I thought men of God were supposed to be non-judgmental."

"I'm not judging. I'm making an observation. I think you need to be able to work through and accept that Charlie dying isn't something you have any control over. His illness isn't your fault. Neither is your family being held captive by the religious tradition that led them astray, and made them treat you poorly for being who you are. Doing what you had to do in order to survive isn't your fault either. God doesn't care what we've done on our paths to find him. The journey itself doesn't matter. What matters is the destination."

"Is this where you tell me that Mary Magdalene is a good example of a redemption story; prostitute turned devout follower? Because I heard in a recent documentary that the prostitution angle was propaganda started by the Catholic church to discredit her role as an unofficial disciple of Jesus'."

"You're correct, which is exactly why I won't use it." He leaned down, propping his elbows on the island with his chin propped on his hands before looking up at me. "The problem with the bible is that people often interpret it in whatever way speaks to them. That's natural because we're human, and we'll always interpret any situation, news story, relationship, etc., through the lens of previous personal experience. There's no getting around that, and that's partly why there are so many Christian denomination. Catholic, Episcopal, Evangelical Christians, Jews... we all read the same book, so why can't we all agree that there is only one theme throughout the entire bible that is consistent, and cannot be warped by viewpoint?"

I arched my left eyebrow to indicate he could continue.

Patrick smiled. "At the core of every single bible-based religion is one fact; God is love. The rest is just filler that can twisted, and even perverted by people calling individual pieces 'facts.' Look at the news. Watch four or 5 different stations covering the same story, and you'll get that many versions of 'the truth.' Not because they're trying to lie to anyone, but because while facts are constant, people's opinions aren't. So, when watching the news, you have to focus on the pieces that can't be disputed. When you read the bible, you do the same thing and what can't ever, EVER be disputed, is that God sent his only son Jesus down here to save ALL SINNERS. We always have to live through love. Love to God above all, but also love your neighbor, and to yourself."

He paused to accept the glass of ice water that I handed him, having filled on for him and another for myself while he was talking.

"Thank you. Take Atheists for example. Atheists say that their belief system is simple. They say there is no God. However, when you think about it, it requires more faith to believe there's nothing, than to believe that there is something more than us out there. To say you don't believe in any higher power is to say that you know for certainty, despite all the infinite possibilities out there in this universe, that you somehow know for certain that there is no creator of anything. That's how ridiculous atheism is. Atheists are really just people that are anti-religion, which many people are for various reasons. But if you really get into deep conversation with an atheist, and press them on that point, you'll find that they can't argue against God or any higher power because something can never be created out of nothing, and there's so much that cannot be explained in this world. Their only real arguments are against religion and how it interprets and packages God into whatever best fits that religion."

He paused to take another sip of water. I sipped mine as well, but his fishing hook had caught me for now because I was listening attentively. The Catholic priests at my former church would have shit bricks by now.

" 'Religion' screws us up so colossally because they get so dogmatic and come up with these artificial systems, and rules. In some like Catholicism, you have very human, very powerful men as the face of a church that's telling people what's going to happen to them when they die, and what they've got to do to be saved. Part of that is to kind of worship them and pay your way into heaven in the form of required tithing. All that ridiculousness makes religion as easy target for atheists and for anyone whose fallen out of faith because of difficulties in their life, some of them completely out of their control. When you feel anger from shame, or self-loathing, it can make it difficult to believe that you deserve God's love or His grace. But the beautiful and most comforting part of GOD, not religion, is that He will never forsake us. He knows how fallible we are, yet we are still his children, and he sacrificed His holiest son for us. As long as we try our best to live our lives as well as we can, and in keeping with His rules of love, He won't let us fall. Religion isn't consistent. God always is."

I eyed him in silence for a moment. It was similar to what Charlie had said upstairs but like my former lover had said himself, Patrick had a way with words that made the theology easier to swallow.

"So, is there a cheat sheet? Cliff notes? I read quickly and I like colorful pot-its."

Patrick grinned because despite my sass, he knew that He had me, at least for now. "Bible study every other Wednesday night, and Sunday services weekly. His grin deepened when I took a sip of water to hide my smile.

"Ben, it's very rare when we can see what God has planned for us, and even more rare when we can see it while everything seems to be crumpling around us. It's sometimes so messy that being able to sift through the rubble feels impossible. It isn't. Those times just require a little more faith on our end. God is never trying to break us. He's just using all of that pain to show us how strong we actually are."

"I think I could handle feeling weak if it means less rubble."

Patrick chuckled. "I think we'd all prefer that, but unfortunately it isn't the way that it works. Which sucks, but we can make it through."

I made a noncommittal noise and he looked amused but still stayed on his end of the island. I sighed mentally because the man was a stubborn pain in the ass, and I could see why Charlie liked him. I was beginning to like him, despite my better judgement.

"All right, you win," I admitted, putting my hands up in the universal show of defeat. "I'm not fine. I'm pissed because I hate that I can't help Charlie after everything he's done for me. I hate that I feel helpless because 95 percent of the time I'm not. I hate that Charlie is so ready for the end, and I hate that he intends to leave everything he owns to me. I don't want the money. I'd give it all away to anyone who could make the cancer go away because he's one of only two people I can call family. And I wish I could understand why God would let all of this happen."

I turned away when Patrick's expression softened, taking the vegetables with me to the stove so that I could add them to the olive oil I poured in first to help the vegetables soften as they cooked. I hadn't intended to share that much but I was tired, and Charlie had poked holes in my emotional armor earlier.

"Thank you, Ben," Patrick said quietly, and I could hear the sincerity in his voice. "I'll go upstairs now because a deal is a deal. I intend to stay for lunch because I'm curious about that fancy grilled cheese, but we won't talk any more shop today. Just think about what we've talked about later whenever you feel like you can, and look up John 4: 4-19. The story of Jesus meeting the woman at the well," Patrick said to clarify when he apparently read the confusion on my face. "I won't quote it to you now but it's a scripture that I believe everyone can relate to because we're all sinners, and it's only through God's eternal grace that we find salvation. But I think it'll speak to you in a specific way. That's all I'll say about it because I want you to read it with an open mind. I'll put a post-it in Charlie's bible for you to make it easier to find. No pressure."

"That's funny, because pressured is exactly what I feel."

"Imagine how you'd feel if I was wearing the collar."

I glanced over in time to catch Patrick's grin, and the wink he offered my way before he took his bag and left the kitchen....

***

I chuckled as I turned away from the hotel mirror for the time being to spray on a quick burst of the cologne I knew that Sam liked best before I searched the top of the dresser for the box containing the cuff links that had belonged to Charlie; my something old. My something new was the pocket-sized bible in my inner suit jacket pocket that had been a pre-wedding gift from Patrick. The print was almost too small for me to see without my reading glasses but Patrick had highlighted every wedding appropriate scripture about love, including Corinthians 16:14: Do everything in love, 1 Peter 4:8: Above all, love each other deeply, because love covers over a multitude of sins and Mark 10:9: Therefore, what God has joined together, let no one separate. He'd also highlighted John 4: 4-19, the scripture he'd asked me to read that first day he'd met.

My lips curved into a slight smile. He'd been right. That passage about Jesus and the woman at the well had slammed its meaning into me so hard that I'd ended up on my knees in the study a week later when I'd finally won the battle against my defiance, and read through it twice; the first time my vision had blurred too much from tears halfway through.

The woman at the well had been searching for something that she hadn't even known she'd been looking for; something real, something larger and deeper than herself that would fulfil her in the ways that none of her five husbands before the man she'd been sleeping with at the time she'd encountered Jesus, could give to her. She'd been lost until He'd found her, and revealed Himself. By accepting him, she'd started fresh, free of her past.

I'd been daring God to try His best when I'd opened the bible, and He'd answered. Not through fire and brimstone, though I'd still felt like the world had narrowed down to a crushing weight on my shoulders, my head dipping in submission as my knees had sunk into the carpet. But suddenly, that weight lessened without any logical reason. Not completely gone, but a new lightness I hadn't felt in years, bloomed in my heart like I was being held up by an invisible support.

I'd been red eyed and broken into a new sense of humility by the time I'd gone to our bedroom, and crawled into bed beside Charlie. He'd woken up when he'd felt the bed shift beneath my weight but didn't say a word though he'd undoubtedly felt the lingering wetness on my cheeks dampen the fabric of his t-shirt when I'd laid my had against his shoulder. I didn't tell him that I'd seen the light because we both would've agreed that that was too Hollywood melodramatic. But the next morning after I made breakfast for us, and got dressed in khaki-colored slacks, and a lightweight, short sleeved, cream colored, linen shirt after showering, I'd gone went upstairs and asked Charlie if he felt well enough to accompany me to the morning mass at the Episcopal church with me.

I'd never seen his smile that radiant.

Patrick's smile had been almost as bright when we'd come in together. I'd wheeled Charlie's expensive, well-padded wheelchair down the outer length of the left aisle closest to the windows. After I'd set the brakes on the chair, and handed Charlie a bible and a hymnal, I'd sat down in the wooden pew that felt so familiar despite all the years that I'd avoided walking into any house of worship. I'd gone back the next Sunday with Charlie, and then the third, and every Sunday after that for the next 2 months. By then, Charlie hadn't been strong enough to go with me but he'd insisted that I attend anyway. I did, even after the third month when he'd finally died in the late afternoon after I'd come home, and told him about Patrick's sermon, and that it'd inspired me to apply to seminary school. His smile had glowed as much as it had that day that I'd asked him to come with me to service. He'd squeezed my hand, and had drifted off shortly after.

I'd kissed Charlie's forehead because his skin was still warm, and then went to the closet and gotten out the suit he'd wanted to be buried in, along with the CD of the music he'd chosen, and the envelope from his desk that contained instructions for how he wanted the funeral to be planned. Even in death Charlie had been particular but I'd smiled when I'd seen that he'd scrawled the names of the songs on the CD, and that Highway to Hell was there right between Mozart and Bach.

After calling the funeral director so that Charlie could be picked up, I'd called Patrick and had been waiting for him out on the steps of the house in jeans, and a lightweight long-sleeve t- shirt because the day was sunny but breezy for the time of year. His expression had softened in empathy not pity, and though he didn't hug me, he did sit on the step two above the one that I was sitting on so that I could subtly shift my weight until I leaned my head back against his knees. We'd sat that way until the funeral home's hearse had come to take Charlie. I'd had to get up to give them Charlie's things and the letter. After I'd agreed to come by the next afternoon, and accepted the funeral director's condolences, Patrick and I had gone into the kitchen to make the lavender and chamomile tea that had become one of Charlie's favorites. While we sipped it in the sunroom, I'd told him that I planned to apply to seminary, and then had to hold my tea cup out of the way to avoid spilling it when Patrick had hugged me almost hard enough to bruise.

He'd hugged me again when I'd graduated seminary, and because he was a natural hugger, he still did it on occasion, including this morning when he'd come to see me to congratulate me again, and to quickly run over the details of the wedding ceremony since he was going to be the one officiating it. That had been when he'd given me the bible, telling me that Charlie would be proud of me.

"I'm proud of you, Ben."

The voice was as familiar as Charlie's had been but feminine, and with the same Cuban accent that softened mine. I turned as my youngest sister Catherine, entered the room with her son Noah Alexander perched onto the generous curve of her left hip. Catherine's knee-length yellow dress looked like silk but neither she nor Noah looked concerned that he was drooling liberally around the little fist he'd shoved into his mouth that was full of goldfish crackers based on the heavy scattering of crumbs on both his shirtsleeve and her dress.

Unlike the other members of my family, Catherine had tracked me down when she'd turned 18, and was heading off to college wanting to reconnect. I hadn't seen her since she was a little girl but it was like no time had passed, and we'd become close over the years, staying in contact even when she and her husband moved to Havana because his company had transferred him. I was glad to see them both so that I'd be represented by at least one biological family member.

"Oh?"

"Uh huh because you managed to completely take over the beach which is impressive. There are so many people down there. People are even standing up in the back behind the last row of chairs. I thought you said this was going to be a small wedding."

I grinned. "We opened the ceremony to my parishioners, and the local police department since there were so many people who wanted to wish us well. The room we're having the reception in isn't large enough to accommodate more than the guests we formally invited so the hotel allowed us to make the beach ceremony open to extra people."

Noah gurgled happily, kicking his sneakered feet as he shifted in his mother's hold before leaning toward me when I held my arms out in invitation. At a year a half, he was still all chubby arms, and thick little legs that normally propelled him around a room like a small heat-seeking missile at impressive speeds, but Catherine had been gently holding him hostage until she handed him to me, all while protesting, "You're going to ruin your suit Ben."

"Totally worth it," I said and Catherine grinned, relinquishing her hold so that I could pull Noah into my own arms. His dark silky curls smelled like apples when I pressed a kiss to the top of his head. I knew the scent was from his baby shampoo because ever since Catherine and her husband Raul had moved out of Cuba eight months ago, and back to Florida just 10 minutes away from Sam and I, we'd been spending a lot of time being doting uncles--otherwise known as free babysitting services which included a lot of baby feedings, baby chasings, and of course, many of the ever awkward for most men, baby baths.