Ego Te Absolvo

I love him.
I love Him.
They spar for my heart, unable to live there in harmony.
Or am I the pseudo-God making them spar?
Standing behind him during Mass is pure agony though I cannot tear myself away; I know that every time I catch a whiff of his cologne and every time I think of how beautiful his large, brown, doe-like eyes are, I\'m going against what He tells me to do. Aren\'t I?
That\'s what they tell me, after all. That\'s what the priest says during his twenty-minute drones that he calls sermons. Do I really have to sit here and deal with this hour of hate advocated in His name? Would He appreciate this? Something in the back of my head told me that he wouldn\'t, but everyone else tells me otherwise. They say it\'s a sin to love him, and I cannot love him and Him at the same time.
\"I believe in God,\" I murmured, \"the Father Almighty, the Creator of heaven and earth, and in Jesus Christ, His only Son, our Lord, who was conceived of the Holy Spirit, born of the Virgin Mary, suffered under Pontius Pilate, was crucified, died, and was buried. He descended into hell. The third day He arose again from the dead. He ascended into heaven and sits at the right hand of God the Father Almighty, whence He shall come to judge the living and the dead. I believe in the Holy Spirit, the holy Catholic church, the communion of saints, the forgiveness of sins, the resurrection of the body, and the life everlasting. Amen.\"
Not a word from my mouth was a lie, but every word was wracked with the knowledge of what I was. I was an abomination. I was gay.
The word was spoken by my family like a swear word. It was always whispered behind hands, kept a shameful secret within the walls of our house, and, once a week, a confessional. Everyone who knew shushed me, telling me to resist the call of temptation. Telling me I was strong enough to withstand the forces of Satan, arch-nemesis of God, the most feared being on earth and in the heavens.
I never believed anyone who told me that.
I still don\'t.
I can\'t understand how what I feel for him- this tender yet passionate myriad of emotions, this unspeakably deep affection- can possibly be wrong, let alone Satanic. Staring at the back of his head, I had the sudden urge to reach forward and touch his honey-colored hair, kiss the back of his neck, to wrap my arms around him and kiss his eais cis cheek, his lips...
He rose. Shaken from my reverie, I got to my feet. I hesitantly raise my voice to sing.
\"And He walks with me, and He talks with me, and He tells me I am His own...\" The only real music comes from the choir; everyone else sounds like they\'d rather be sleeping. I don\'t quite blame them.
I lean forward and sing directly in his ear. He glances back at me briefly, a quirky smile on his face. He raises an eyebrow, and I could\'ve kissed him.
I could\'ve kissed him, right in front of Him. The thought shames me so much, I stop singing altogether for a moment. He must have noticed the look on my face, because he stopped too. Our eyes met, and I received a poke in the ribs from my little sister.
Giving her a dirty look, I returned to the song, trying to focus.
I was met with scant success.
At long last, the sermon was over. He nudges me as we file out of the pews, and we both head for the boys\' room.
Once inside, we grab each other and kiss like it was Judgment Day. I can feel his lips upon me as I can feel His eyes upon me. Both ignite a burning love inside me, splitting me in half.
\"Stop!\" I sputter suddenly, pushing him away by the shoulders. Looking up, I can see the wounded look in his eyes. Guiltily, I reach out to touch his face. He turns his head and presses a kiss to my palm, and I smile.
I pull him into my arms, burying my face in his hair. \"I don\'t understand,\" I whispered, \"how God can turn away from us if we love the wrong person.\" I kiss his cheek, and he kisses my nose. I run my fingers along his face, and he closes his eyes.
\"He doesn\'t,\" he whispers. I blink at him, then squeeze him to my chest.
\"He can\'t,\" I say softly. \"He loves both of us too much.\"
\"Exactly.\" He gently bites my ear. \"Let\'s go somewhere.\"
\"Like?\"
\"My house.\" He slides an arm around my waist.
\"Won\'t your parents-\"
\"They\'re out today,\" he says with a suggestive wink. I shake my head, grinning. He takes my hand, I clutch it to my own; He is contemplating our situation, I send a quick prayer up His way and tell Him I love him, and I can almost feel His smile upon me.
We reach his house and we stumble inside the doorway, kissing madly and barely pausing long enough to close the door. We collapse on the couch, our hands exploring each other tenderly, the crucifix hanging over our heads. He glances up at it and pauses for a moment.
\"Shouldn\'t we get married first?\"
\"Can we?\"
\"We\'re legal adults,\" he replies, kissing my neck and brushing his fingers over my shoulder.
\"We\'re both guys,\" I said flatly, wrapping my arms around him.
\"So the law won\'t recognize our union as a legal marriage. Aren\'t we already married, in the eyes of God? After all, we love each other, don\'t we? We\'ll always be together, faithful to one another, all that stuff that a marriage is meant to be?\"
\"Of course,\" I say, running my thumb over his eyebrow. \"But does that really make us married? It seems sort of-\"
\"Far-fetched.\" He snuggles into my chest, and I wrap my arms around him protectively. \"But suppose we sit here and exchange our vows under the crucifix?\"
\"Will it work?\"
\"Sure it will.\" He sits up. Instead of reciting the formal vows, he begins, \"Though others won\'t admit it, we\'re married. I take you to be my not-quite-lawful wedded husband.\"
\"I take you to be my husband,\" I say, laughing.
He leans in and kisses me gently. For the first time in my life, I don\'t close my eyes, and I realize that I love that look in his eyes. Or eye, as it appeared to me.
\"I love you,\" he whispers.
\"Love you more,\" I say, pressing my lips to his jaw.
I feel his fingers on my chest. He pushes me down onto the couch, slowly unbuttoning my shirt, and I slide my hand up his back. Kissing his ear, I realize that this is just too right to be wrong.
I have to have him.
With only the barest hint of hesitation, I reach up and rip his shirt off.

Two hours later, we lay lazing on the carpet, catching our breath, exchanging kisses and soft touches, our bodies gleaming with an ethereal, sweaty sheen. The crucifix is neatly in position, with His painstakingly carved cherry wood face shining with sorrow, betrayal, agony, and resignation. A shiver passes through me as I press a kiss to his shoulder.
\"I really love you, you know,\" I say.
\"Yeah,\" he said. \"I know.\" He props himself up on his elbow. \"I say next year, we run off together to the Vatican.\"
A shadow passes over my mind. It must have shown in my face, because he says quickly, \"If anyone asks, we\'re cousins. Did you know Michelangelo Buonarotti was bisexual?\"
\"Are you serious?\"
\"Absolutely.\" He slips his arm around my waist and rests his lips against my damp forehead. \"If we don\'t go to the Vatican, let\'s still run away together. Let\'s go somewhere away from this town. We\'ll go to college together, and go to church together, we can live together, and get old together.\" He looks at me with his big, soulful eyes. How could I resist those?

That night, we stayed together. As far as our parents were concerned, we were both at our girlfriend\'s house. It wasn\'t a lie. What we left out was that we were sharing her guest bed.
At exactly twelve midnight, my eyes snap open.
He is asleep, snuggled against my side. He looks like an angel, with his skin that coue cae carved out of marble and his long, dark lashes.
I feel like my heart is ready to burst.
Not just because I love him so much, but because I can finally reconcile my love for him and my love for Him.
I love them both.
We are not sinners, we are lovers.
We are innocent.
I lean forward and gently kiss his forehead. \"Ego te absolvo,\" I whisper. \'I pronounce you clean.\'
We were never unclean.
We are in love.