Story Ninteen.            A LIFE IN THE CLOSET  by  AARON THE AUSSIE.

 

If you are under 18 you should NOT be here, so DO NOT read on.  Just EXIT NOW.

 

"A Life in the Closet" is total fiction, but it is very largely based on my life experiences, so quite a lot of it is an attempt at recording in a slightly changed way, some of the significant events in my life.  And of course, names etc have been changed.

 

All the Stories that I have submitted to Nifty until now have been complete, stand-alone stories, some longer than others and each with varying levels of sexual activity. But, they have all revolved around the Gay / Boy Lover basic theme. This Story is no exception.

 

The Stories are all written from my point of view and I have tried to keep them basically in an order of chronology.  So, they can be read in number order giving, an overview and flow to a significant number of the things that have happened to me over the years. There is an exception here, as the main thrust of this Story is told from the point of view of a friend.

 

I have touched briefly in a prior story on the issue of paedophilia in the church. The story which follows largely concerns the life experiences of that friend, as regards the priesthood and his relationship with his best friend and his Church

     

I have tried to make each story interesting and as sexy as possible, whilst keeping them all as REAL as I could, particularly as regards things like; the language used, the ages of those involved, the time period relevant to that particular story and the prevailing attitudes of the community at the time.  

 

All of my Stories are completed and I don't plan to make any changes to them, but I would still be very interested in your feedback. I'm sure most Nifty Authors really like to feel appreciated for their efforts and we all love positive feedback. So, please email me at: aarontheaussie@bigpond.com

 

Just a reminder too, that Nifty needs our financial support.  Please help with what you can, if you can.  Every bit helps, no matter how small.

 

So... Here goes I hope you find this story OK.    

 

Aaron.

 

 

ABOUT TRISTAN – AND THE PRIESTHOOD.

 

It was a quiet evening at my apartment in the year 2000 and my very best friend Tristan was with me, as he often was these days. We had been just chatting and enjoying each other's company over a cup of tea, pending his departure. Normally when he is with us, he set off for home at about 10pm and it was almost that time.

 

I was really amazed at just how very close he and I had become. We are just so compatible and similar in so many ways, yet very much individuals. That seemed to be what was needed to make our relationship work as well as it did and still does. Tristan is a Teacher, a Brother at the local Marist Catholic Boys School. Like me he is Gay, which he does not hide, but since he comes across as very together and in control, he never seems to want to flaunt his sexual orientation, without need and certainly not at the school where he works.

 

We are much the same age, as he has very recently turned 50 and I was just about to do so too. But, we do not have a sexual relationship with each other as such. Although I have good memories of the sexual exploits I have enjoyed over the years, for a Boy Lover like me, they have never been very extensive, because few opportunities arise, particularly at my age now and I am very definitely not a predatory paedophile type person.  Although I don't actually know, I suspect that Tristan's sexual interests are likely to be much the same as mine.

 

We were just finishing our cup of tea when suddenly a phone rang and Tristan reached for his bag and took out his mobile.

 

I busied myself with collecting up the tea things and taking them to the kitchen, a little worried as it was a bit late in the evening for phone calls and while I tried not to overhear, it didn't sound like good news.

 

Eventually Tristan came into the kitchen looking pale and upset and he indicated that he needed to leave urgently as a bit of an emergency had arisen. He made no attempt to explain further and I didn't press him to do so.

 

The following day he phoned me and said that he would be fairly busy for a few days and probably wouldn't see me for a while.  I asked if he was alright and whether there was anything I could do?  He just said that there was no help he needed and that he was sure he would be OK and get through the drama he faced. Once again, he didn't explain, so as was the case the night before, I didn't press him any further.

 

It was a week later mid Saturday afternoon when he next appeared at our door.  He looked drawn and subdued, but gave me a wan smile and I invited him in, moving to the kitchen to put on the kettle.

 

As it happened I was at home alone and we were able to sit quietly together with cups of tea and some cake.

 

"I'm not going to stay for long" he said, "but I just wanted to fill you in on what's happened. It's a bit personal and I don't want to go into details, but you need to know why I'm so upset because I'm probably not going to be exactly fun to be with for a while"

 

"if its personal" I said, "I understand and you don't need to explain anything to me"

 

"I want to at least tell you the basics right now" he said, "there's no one else I would want to tell, but I always feel very comfortable talking with you. So much so" he added "that at some time in the future, assuming I decide that I really want to unburden myself and get it all off my chest, if it's OK with you, I'll probably tell you the whole story in gruesome detail, but I'm not ready for that yet".

 

"If that's what you want" I said, "I'm a good listener, but if it never happens, it's still your business and I'm not going to hold you to saying anything".

 

"Thanks" he said. "The thing is, I've just buried the best friend I ever had. As far as I was concerned, Mark and I were still best friends and we had been since we were little kids together, so long in fact that I can't remember him not being a part of my life and he was always a huge influence on me. Yet during just the last few years he seems to have isolated himself from everything and everyone, including me and now he's no longer around..." And Tristan took a big breath and then sobbed out... "Because, for some reason he chose to take his own life!!"

 

I moved quickly to sit beside him and I drew him to me and held him while he got himself back under control.  It didn't take long and as soon as he seemed to be OK I drew back and returned to where I had been sitting.

 

"Sorry about that" he said taking up his tea, "On Monday I return to school and hopefully, getting back to normal will help, because life must go on".

 

"Do you want to spend some time here with us or even the rest of the weekend if you like?" I said, "It may help you take your mind off it a bit"

 

"Thanks, but no" he replied, "I have some lesson preparation to do and for now I'd rather be alone"

 

He didn't stay much longer and I really felt for him as I saw him out and watched him heading off home.

 

During the next few weeks things got back to normal, although Tristan remained quite subdued. However, as further time passed his more normal personality re-emerged and he eventually again became his pleasant self. Someone I always enjoyed being with.

 

My Birthday came and went and although I enjoyed the quiet little gathering which had been arranged to commemorate it, I was myself a bit depressed at being 50 and at the great difficulty I was still having with my umpteenth and as it turned out, final and at last successful attempt to give up smoking permanently by that birthday.

 

As a result, I was a bit hard to live with myself for a while there and very much regretted snapping back at Tristan at one stage when he told me in some gest, what a grouch I was.  My response was to the effect that he hadn't been a real delight to be around himself for some time and it came right out before I could bite my tongue.  He didn't say anything, but he was suddenly a lot quieter for the rest of that particular day.

 

Nonetheless as the weeks passed, I had just about concluded that he was quite OK and that it was unlikely he would now feel the need to get his story off his chest, when he suddenly announced out of the blue one day, that if it was OK with me, this was the time for doing just that!!

 

It was obvious that he had chosen his time with some care, as it was again one of those very rare weekends when I had the apartment entirely to myself and for that reason I had invited him to stay over to keep me company.

 

"This is going to virtually be the story of my life and Marks life too for that matter" he said, "and it's long and complicated, are you sure you don't mind?"

 

"Let's get comfortable and do it" I said, leading the way into the lounge where we both took a recliner each. "In my experience" I added, "Unburdening yourself can be great therapy, if you feel comfortable doing it and I'm very happy to be your sounding board.

 

"That's how I feel" he said, "and you know that with you I feel comfortable"  

 

"So how to begin..." he said, "Very few people know, believe it or not, that I have not always been a Catholic and my whole life has been extremely turbulent where religion has been concerned"

 

And..., I have attempted to relate Tristans Story below, as he told it to me, giving the narration to him, so that it is told from his point of view:

 

0o0o0o0o0

Tristans Own Story.

 

I was an only child born of fairly typical middle class Parents of the time.

 

Unfortunately, I was not very old before things at home started to sour and I blame most of it on my Dads drinking and because of it, my Mums inability to deal with him.

 

As a result there were epic arguments and fights and sometimes the foul language was unbelievable. There were even times when things got physical and violent and I was really scared for them both and for myself.

 

Yet as was normal in those days, they both simply endured those turbulent years, which continued until I was well into my teens. This meant that their suffering ( and mine as the innocent third party ) went on year after year, but ultimately the marriage, if you could call it that, survived and for the rest of their lives my parents remained together, but pretty much just tolerated each other.

 

Nominally my parents considered themselves Anglican, but in reality there was no religion in my home at all.

 

I found myself concluding very early on, that my home life was not typical or normal, even though I've since realised that it was probably a lot more typical than it should have been, and my proof that it was not normal was right next door, where my little friend Mark lived in what seemed to be an open, happy and loving atmosphere, where there was never any conflict. Of course I was drawn to this and as we grew up together, the friendship between Mark and I developed and blossomed.

 

The thing that I observed and grew to envy most about Mark and his family was their religious faith and their involvement in the church. They were staunch Catholics and this seemed integral to their family life.

 

While I went to the local Public School, Mark was enrolled in the Catholic education system, but we were such good friends that attendance at different schools made no difference and as time passed I became more and more obsessed with the things Mark constantly talked about when we were together. Things like attending Mass, the Nuns and then the Brothers at school, the Priests, becoming an Altar Boy, etc. etc.

 

Then one day Mark and I became intimate.  I guess we were about 10 or 11 and it was Mark who initiated it. He explained that he had been wanked by a couple of boys at school, who had promised to show him what sex was all about.  I was shocked, because to me Mark was such a goody, goody type kid, but I was also excited by what we did together and I immediately wanted to do more.

 

And we did!!  By the time we were 13 going on 14, we were doing everything together. Although it was mainly me who took all the fucking from him, he did allow me to fuck him once or twice, he said, so that I could learn. However, according to Mark it was still all basically just to ensure we learned about sex properly. He said that we must never think about what we were doing as homosexual, because the church saw that as an extreme and unacceptable sin.

 

I didn't argue with him, but by that age I was sure that I was Gay, mainly because I had no interest in girls, but I adored him.

 

`During the early stages for both of us, I don't think our intimacy had been much more than a bit of fairly standard "Boy Fun", but with its growing intensity I felt that it had become serious sex. As a result, it seemed to me that Marks attitude about homosexuality and sin, which at first was just an excuse, gradually became an obsession and once this attitude on his part started to harden, our sex sessions together became less frequent until eventually, they just stopped altogether. I think the last time anything ever happened between us, was on Marks 15^th Birthday when he just couldn't resist giving me a really good fucking.

 

Meanwhile, my early years at High School were a bit of a disaster and I continued to be resentful / jealous / inspired when I could see how well Mark was doing at what to me was, his fabulous Catholic High School. In reality the differences were more superficial than I realised. There was an emphasis on religion that didn't exist at my school and the standard of dress and presentation demanded at his was quite a bit higher.

 

This all came to a head, after a particularly bad incident for me at my school, when a kid was brutally bashed for being a "Poofta" and for no reason apparent to me, I nearly got drawn in and tarred with the same brush. So I decided to take the biggest stand of my life and thus began the Mother of all family brawls at home. It was a "Barny" that went on for weeks and nearly saw me disowned by my own Parents.

 

Essentially with Marks total support, I went home and declared that I was going to convert and become a Catholic and that I demanded to be allowed to transfer and complete my education at the Catholic High School.

 

I proceeded to talk to the Priest at the Church and received encouragement and by the time my conversion was complete, I had become totally involved as a member of the Church. I loved it from the start and knew that my Parents couldn't stop me.

 

But, they had to pay my school fees and I didn't get my way on my transfer demand immediately. In fact it was not until Year 10 that they finally relented and reluctantly permitted the transfer to occur. By then I was a seriously committed Catholic and it was clear to even them that they were not likely to be able to change that.

 

So for three years, years 10, 11 and 12, Mark and I became totally inseparable. I was able to immerse myself totally in my new religion and I believe that I got a much better quality education than I otherwise might have.

 

The difficulty that I had however, was that I discovered from the inside over time, first that my new religion was not quite as absolutely perfect as I had thought it was, back when I was looking in from the outside. Secondly, that I didn't necessarily agree with a number of its unyielding attitudes on some contemporary issues.

 

Mark and I spent many hours during those years, hotly debating many such issues and it was all exciting and intellectually stimulating.  Mark always tended to take the conservative line and ardently supported the official position of the Church on most issues, whereas I was inclined to take the role of the Devil's Advocate. Nonetheless, our friendship endured and by the end of year 12 we were as close as we had ever been, despite no sex!!

 

We both did well in our final year 12 exams at school and with strong support from our Priest, we decided together to seek entrance to the Catholic University Institute to study Church History and Theology and we both got in.

 

The live-in, on-campus, single study-units we each occupied were not far apart from each other and as a result we still spent a huge amount time together whilst completing that course of study, which was Marks single minded objective.

 

Personally, I saw that period as one during which I could try to assess my future direction in life. The course was totally relevant to my interest in religion, assuming I ultimately chose what I saw as the probable path I would pursue to the Priesthood and it provided me with an excellent qualification. But it was not a required essential for achieving that end.  As a result I also managed without Marks involvement for the first time, to develop some new casual friendships of my own and to take a bit of a broader interest in life both on and off campus.     

 

Given all this, it was during that period that my religious ardour cooled even further and I felt some real uncertainty for the first time ever about the enthusiasm I had built over time concerning my Priesthood aspirations. At the same time, it was very clear that if anything Marks enthusiasm grew and he had no aspiration other than to become a Parish Priest.

 

Amongst quite a few other issues, my big one was my sexuality, the attitude of the church to homosexuality and its expectation that a Priest must remain celibate. 

 

Despite my love for and absolute devotion to Mark, unknown to him I tested my sexuality on a number of occasions whilst at University and felt entirely satisfied that I was Gay and that remaining celibate was not going to be easy. At the same time on each occasion, although I enjoyed the sex and the company of the young men involved, afterwards I felt extreme guilt and self-loathing for my weakness, in having indulged so readily in matters of the flesh and I felt that I was cheating on the Church.

 

Once we had each successfully completed that Course, having just about lived in each other's pockets for virtually all of our lives, Mark and I faced a real and actual separation for the first time.  Mark was headed for a Seminary to formally study and prepare for the Priesthood and of course he wanted me to come with him. However, I had firmly decided to defer any decision concerning the Priesthood and I chose instead to remain at University and complete a teaching qualification.

 

I really enjoyed the Teaching course I did. To be honest, much more so than the prior religious qualification I had achieved with Mark. But I was torn by my feelings for Mark. On the one hand I really missed him. ( Probably  much more than he was missing me ) On the other hand, without him there was an undefinable sense of freedom I had never actually felt before.  Whilst doing the Teaching course I had no option but to use on-campus share type accommodation and actually sharing and living with a stranger was an interesting new experience.

 

Then during the final year of my Teaching course, disaster struck. It was kind of a wonderful and exciting disaster, but for me a disaster nonetheless.

 

I was really getting on well with Ryan my on campus dorm roommate at the University. He was a country boy in the city to study and he seriously applied himself.  We had hit it off really well and had become good friends and I enjoyed his company immensely. There was nothing more to it, no intimacy or anything like that. But, towards the end of the first half semester that year he became really excited about the forthcoming semester break, during which he and his younger brother Darren had planned a coach trip together. It was a safari, camping type coach tour to Central Australia and was all booked and arranged and Ryan couldn't stop talking about it.

 

He explained that the tour began on the third day of the semester break and that they had to be at the coach terminal for departure that morning. He then said somewhat conspiratorially, that Darren was expected to arrive down from home on the first day of the break and with my agreement, unofficially and off the record of course, he planned to allow him to sleep on the floor in our dorm room on campus on the night of his arrival and the next night.

 

I couldn't very well say no, but when Ryan got back from picking Darren up at the train that first day and he introduced Darren to me, I was a bit shocked at his age, which could not have been more than about 13. Still, like I had with Ryan, I seemed to hit it off with Darren straight away and I must admit that my first reaction was to think quietly and privately to myself, just what an absolutely gorgeous kid he was.

 

When we settled down in the dorm room that night, with Darren in his sleeping bag on the floor between us, Ryan took some time to explain to Darren about his plans for the single free day they had following, during which they would look around the campus and do a few other things.

 

However, it all came apart when Ryan took sick during the night and it became clear that he was in enough trouble to need an ambulance.

 

Darren and I spent what remained of that night anxiously hanging around at the hospital and early the next morning we were advised that Ryan had been into surgery for the removal of a burst appendix with septicaemia.

 

Later the Dr advised us that the crisis had passed and that Ryan was quite Ok and resting comfortably. "But" he said, "He will be in hospital for at least a week and then he will need to take it easy for a while".

 

When we explained about the planned trip, the Dr said, "Absolutely no way. Sorry, but not a chance in the world".

 

"What do I do now?" Darren asked turning to me and all I could say was that I would help him sort out the cancellation, suggesting that we would go into the Coach terminal the next morning together, to do it face to face.

 

Ryan awoke briefly when we saw him that afternoon, but he was still pretty groggy. However, when we returned that evening he was more fully awake and he was adamant that unless I was not able to do so for some quite specific and legitimate reason, I should take his place on the big adventure and that I should take Darren. "Please don't cancel it" he said, "and disappoint Darren when there is no need" He also said that I would basically only need a simple personal kit, as he had everything else ready to go that we would need, back at the dorm. "I'm disappointed" he said, "but there is no one I would trust more than you with my little brother, so please do it"

 

Darren planned to again call and report to their parents once we left the hospital that night and having asked him what he thought and gotten an enthusiastic and positive response from him about me taking Ryan's place, I suggested that I would agree, but only if their parents supported the idea.  As it turned out, they were pushed pretty hard by Darren and finally agreed on the basis that it was what Ryan wanted.

 

And so, my big adventure with Darren began. We were up very late that night getting re-organised and up early enough the next morning to stop by very briefly and see Ryan once more whilst on our way to the Coach Terminal.

 

It was July ( Mid-Winter down here in Australia – but that is relatively mild compared to Winters elsewhere ) so it was very, very cold at night, but although cool, the days were generally clear, crisp and sunny, particularly once we were away from the coast. We struck a couple of overcast, wet days early in the trip, but that all cleared as we headed inland and towards the Centre, where despite the cold, we couldn't get enough of the unbelievable and magical expanse of the heavens at night, every night.

 

Because it was a camping type trip, we were all issued with and had to erect quite small 2 man hike tents each night and as Darren and I were together we needed to and did share such a tent.

 

The coach was by no means full and we got to know all the others on board quickly and formed some really nice friendships, particularly as everyone pitched in and helped around the chuck-wagon at meal times. Generally, the warm and friendly atmosphere ensured good spirits and we felt very comfortable with everyone almost immediately   The other good thing about the numbers was that all of the airbeds fitted into the storage on board without needing deflation, meaning we didn't have to go to the trouble of re-inflating them every night.

 

From the very first night, Darren and I were comfortable and happy together in our little tent, although I have to admit that I was having feelings that worried me a little, particularly as I watched him undress for bed and my first thoughts about him returned to haunt me when I again thought how really gorgeous he was. He had confirmed that he was only 13 and seeing him strip down to the briefs only, that he slept in, it was clear that he was just now at the cusp of puberty. He was slim and small for his age, pale without a hint yet of body hair and his skin was flawless, as was his beautiful face, framed as it was by his thick shoulder length light brown hair which was flecked with what seemed like golden highlights which sparkled in a certain type of light.

 

The third and fourth days were the wet ones. But, it cleared away during the afternoon of the fourth day, which meant we only had to endure one wet night in our little tent.  Ryan had organised a double airbed and we put all our personal gear up off the floor, down one side of it. This reduced the space we had on the rest of the airbed to share together for sleeping. We were still comfortable, even though it was cramped, but I found myself even more stimulated than ever, just because we were so close that we touched a lot. Darren was between me and our gear and he moved about a good bit in his sleeping bag during the night. As a result he tended to sprawl over the top of me quite a bit. By then I was getting much more concerned as I became fully erect a couple of times during that night and I'm sure I had never been effected before like this by a youngster.

 

After that, whilst we left the wet weather behind, the serious coldness at night set in and it was only a night or 2 later that Darren wanted to know if we could join the two sleeping bags together and share our body heat, which he said would also mean more blankets to share together rather than less for each to use individually. It made sense, but I was reluctant because I was becoming scared that I might lose control and do something we would both regret.  However, that very night I froze. I don't think I had ever been that cold in my life and I thought, I've got a lot more body mass than Darren so he has to be freezing too.

 

We survived, but the next day in the comfort of the coach, I relented and agreed to try what Darren wanted that night.

 

As I say, that night I was so scared of what I had agreed to, that I was sure something would happen, so I was in a real state.

 

Something did happen and to this day I'm not even sure who started it or how. But, it definitely didn't involve what I dreaded, which was that I would force myself on Darren and do things to him I would regret for ever.

 

What in fact happened was that whoever started it got a very willing and positive response from the other. After that, we just couldn't get enough of each other and it was blissful surprise after surprise, with the intensity increasing as each night passed.

 

At first we had just come together as intended for greater warmth and it worked. Gradually however, we hugged more and more and I tended to pull Darren more fully into me. As a result our hugs turned into serious embrace and Darren started entwining himself with me. Then we were kissing and our passion became totally apparent, as somewhere along the line our kissing had become open mouthed and seriously erotic.  By then we could feel each other's hardness and both members were solid as rocks. When Darren's briefs came off I discovered his secret magnificence and I had to worship it. He soon had my pyjama shorts off too and he seemed to marvel at its size and apparent power.

 

We progressed from humping to sucking, which he seemed to love to the extent that we even successfully tried a few sixty nine's despite our size difference. Then Darren wanted me to make the final move and take his cherry.  I was absolutely torn between reluctance and desire, but in the end I had such uncontrollable passion that I had to do it. At the same time, I was so worried about hurting him that I went to extreme lengths with our preparation.  But, it was worth it because it wasn't long before he became insatiable and I was fucking him each night like there was no tomorrow.

 

On quite a few nights, it was so cold that the fabric of the tent itself became totally solid with ice, yet once we had first joined our sleeping bags together, we never really noticed the cold again!!

 

My passion seemed to know no bounds and Darren seemed equally out of control, yet I remained full of self-loathing. Darren was just a child, a minor and I was absolutely convinced that I had become a serious paedophile type predator and I didn't know what to do.

 

We lived in 2 worlds; the day time one, where we participated with our new friends to the full in the Tour, loved it all and the places we visited, including Ayres Rock ( Uluru ) The Olgas, Simpsons Gap, Alice Springs, etc. etc. And then there was our private night time world of depraved orgy.

 

As the Tour inevitably drew towards its conclusion, I became more and more concerned. How would I live without Darren once we had to part? How would what had happened and its aftermath affect him? Would it all come out and if so, how would I face Darren's family including Ryan and would I have to face the law? Even if it didn't come out, how would I face Ryan and spend another semester with him as my roommate?  One thing I felt the strongest possible urge to do, but knew absolutely that I never, ever could, was attend a Confessional.

 

The sex we had together on the final night of the Tour was gentler and less frenetic. We talked a lot and we both cried a bit.  Darren said that it was the greatest experience of his entire life and that he would never forget it. But, once it was over, somehow he was sure we would both move on.

 

And we did. If anything I got the impression that Darren was able to take returning to normal, much more readily than me. Ryan, who seemed fine now after his operation, met us at the Coach Terminal and I got through a whole night in the dorm room with them both, without even touching Darren.  I accompanied them both to the Train to see Darren off home the next day and that was the hardest part. But we got through it without Ryan appearing to have any suspicions, even when Darren and I hugged perhaps more than we should have and showed quite a bit of emotion.

 

Then the final semester was upon us and despite my unrelenting internal conflicts, I got through it and qualified as a Teacher.  Throughout that time Ryan remained my best friend and I even had little snippets he had received from home, from time to time about Darren and how he was going.

 

A short time before the end of the semester I had one very private and confidential letter from Darren in which he again stated that he would never forget me. But he said that as a direct result of his experiences with me, he had come to grips with his homosexuality and he had now found a boyfriend his own age. They were still a bit young he said, but if they stayed together a while, they wanted to "come out" together as soon as they felt they could.

 

I never saw Darren again and I don't know what happened to him, but I still have that letter and I look at it from time to time.

 

My internal conflict was such that I still felt that someone capable of such very depraved and despicable acts against a mere child, could not possibly justify or contemplate a life either as a "Man of God" in any capacity or as a Teacher, both of which would again bring me into direct contact with children and young people. On the other hand, these were the only 2 pursuits in which I had a qualification.

 

When I attended Marks Ordination at St Michaels where he would become the Priest, the ceremony was wonderful, as was he of course. He fitted in every way, what I saw as everything I had ever wanted to be and he resumed his old role as my shining light in life.

 

However for me, the whole thing further emphasised the depth of my failures and made me even more despondent.

 

I stayed involved in the church, just as a parishioner and through that involvement, Father Mark ( as I called him ) and I remained good friends. However, the rest of my life had side-tracked and despite the years that passed, I was at a dead end.

 

I had recently turned 35 and I had been totally celibate for perhaps 10 years. In fact I had not had sex at all since I last did with Darren.  I was working as a Forman in a factory when I was asked one day by Father Mark if I could help out at all with some short term accommodation for a Priest visiting the Parish.  My place was tidy, but not what I thought suitable. Still Mark pushed and I agreed.

 

Father Vincent was a member of an Order known as the "Brothers of the Blessed St Judas" and whilst staying with me he re-ignited my interest in the Priesthood.  Vincent and I and on occasions Mark too, had some in- depth discussions about Religion and associated issues. These were very reminiscent of the fabulous days I still recalled with Mark at school and rightly, or wrongly, I eventually made a decision to join Vincent's Order and undertake the training needed for Priesthood in the Order.

 

Another advantage I felt that the Order offered was that, unlike the normal Parish system, the Orders Ministry involved preaching and teaching but at some arm's length, with a cross section of the community. In other words, unlike a Parish involvement, from within the Order, I would have less direct contact and no longer term relationships with ordinary people and virtually none with children or young people.

 

So I quit my job with a view to starting out all over again, thinking once more that I could still achieve that original ambition to become a Priest.

 

But, again it didn't work. The training was not what I expected and with much greater maturity and life experiences behind me, I soon found myself questioning even more than I ever did before, the teachings of the Church and the Order I had joined and soon I also found myself in conflict with those in authority.

 

The other thing that concerned me was the number of older members of the Order, who I felt were isolated from real life. In fact, these were men who seemed very lonely and to have problems with things one wouldn't normally expect of a Priest, like alcohol for example.        

 

Just to further complicate things, When I finally made it clear that I would not complete the training, Both my friend Father Vincent and one of the other Priests commented to the effect that I seemed to have a natural ability as a Teacher and that I should consider still completing my "Novitiate Training" but, with a view to qualifying as a Brother rather than as a Priest and then pursuing my vocation in the Catholic School System, given my existing teaching and religious qualifications and background.

 

It was just what I had been most trying to avoid for years, yet given what I had just been through with the Order and the fact that I had successfully remained celibate for so long, I decided to do as they suggested.

 

I remained with the Order for a short period once becoming a Brother, but then applied for and got a job, first as a Teaching Assistant, but then as a fully-fledged Marist Brother. I have been with them at my current School ever since.

 

I loved teaching immediately I started and I went back and fully updated my prior teaching qualifications.  Having been a teacher ever since, I still love it and I have never had a problem at any time with any student as regards his sexuality or mine. In fact, since entering the teaching profession there has been a big change for the better in my life and I have never been happier.

 

I continued to have a lot of help and support from Mark and Vincent and during the years that have passed since I took up teaching, because of our ongoing closeness, I had continued to rate them both as my best friends, despite for the first time really enjoying the companionship of many other good friends and associates, ...most recently including you.

 

Then about four years ago, there was a major upheaval of some kind at Marks church St Michaels and suddenly, he wasn't there anymore.  As a mere parishioner I was not privy to what was happening, but to have my best friend just disappear without word was alarming.  At the church a different Priest was appointed and life went on as though Mark had never existed, which seemed to be as the church wanted it.

 

I eventually learned that Mark had left the church under quite a big shadow and through Vincent I discovered that he had joined the Order. However, all of my efforts to contact Mark were thwarted and eventually Vincent made it clear that Mark now wanted to live a life which would remain largely quiet and meditative and that he didn't want contact with anyone from his past life.

 

Given my life long relationship with Mark, I was worried for him. Would he become one of the Orders isolated and lonely old Priests with a drinking problem?  At the same time I was hurt and bitter at his total rejection of me and I told Vincent to let him know just how I felt.

 

But, time passed and there was no contact, no word at all from Mark and I had no choice but to learn to live my life entirely without him. As it turned out, I never saw him again.

 

It was Vincent who phoned me late that night when I was at your place to say that Marks body had been found hanging from a beam at St Michaels.

 

It wasn't until after the funeral that Vincent handed me a sealed envelope containing both a letter from Mark, addressed to me personally and a key to his private room.  I was advised that it was Marks wish that I alone enter the room and deal with his personal possessions.

 

Basically, in the letter Mark stated that he still held to the view that homosexuality was an extreme and unacceptable sin, but that he had been unable to resist its evil.  For this reason he felt that he had failed his God and his Church. But more importantly he had failed me, the first person he had loved and abused despicably when we were just kids and the several Alter Boys and Choir Boys he had loved while the Priest at St Michaels. He did not seek forgiveness, but stated his hope that ending his life would be seen as an act of atonement.

 

The letter directed me to a draw in his room where I found an assortment of photographs of boys. Some were just photos of nice looking boys, but a number were incriminating. I have destroyed them all.

 

0o0o0o0o0

 

"And that's about it" said Tristan, "Given my own background and experiences, I can't bring myself to hate Mark. He was always my idol and best friend, but there is little doubt that he will now go down in the records as `just another Paedophile Priest' and that makes me quite sad, because no matter what he may have done, the real Mark was a better person than that."

 

I turned my head to Tristan and spoke for the first time since his story began. "Do you still consider yourself a Paedophile or that you have failed your God?" I asked.

 

"I really don't know" he said, "I'm totally lost on the whole question of my faith and religion generally. I've grappled with it my whole life and I'm no longer sure that I even have a faith or a belief in God any longer at all. But, what I do know" he added, "Is that I was a willing participant in the sex I had with Mark and then there was what I did to Darren!!"

 

"Well, I am not even a Catholic and I have never been particularly religious at all" I said, "So I don't have the issues you do, but" I added, "For what it's worth, during my life, both as a youngster and an adult, I've had quite a number of sexual relationships, mainly with young boys, minors like Darren, but I still don't consider myself a Paedophile. Why? Because I have never forced myself on a boy or made a boy have sex with me against his will, so I don't see myself as a sexual predator.  What's more, I don't see you as one either.  In my view, you can have all the technical debate and discussion you like about what the Bible might say and its interpretation or about what the official view of your Church may be, but some people are Homosexual because that's the way they were born and some of those will respond positively without being forced in any way, even whilst they are still quite young".

 

Then I added, "On the other hand for what it's worth, let me just also say, I assume that we don't really know just how many boys were involved with Mark and whether or not they were forced and abused or they responded positively themselves. But, if they were abused then Mark was a Paedophile and my first concern must always be for the victims".

 

"OK" Tristan said, "but assuming Mark was one, are you saying that a paedophile, a sexual predator is a person without redeeming features?"

 

"Certainly not" I said, "The only difference in my view, between an abuser and us 2 for example, is that we have had a greater capacity to control ourselves and perhaps less opportunity to be tempted, letting go only where there has been a clear mutual desire. If Mark did abuse, he simply didn't have that control capacity and I can feel for such people, but they must still be responsible for what they have done. Beyond that failing, I think that in remembering your friend, you should hold onto your positive views concerning everything that was strong and good about him"

 

"Well" said Tristan, "...

 

And so it went on. We talked and talked and talked, and by the end of that weekend I was sure that Tristan had really benefitted from opening up as he had and that our friendship was just about as strong as a friendship could possibly be.  To me it was the best outcome that was possible and I was really pleased that I had encouraged Tristan to open up.