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The following Sunday, after the sermon, Paul stood to the side at coffee hour, as he usually did. Socializing after the service had never been his favorite part of the job. Although he felt great compassion for people and was fascinated by their personalities and idiosyncrasies, he was much better in front of an entire group, speaking about life in general, than he was chatting with people one on one. He loved the philosophical side of the ministry, studying theology, motivating people collectively with sermons. Sara had been the outgoing one. She had made it possible for him to hide in a corner with a cup of coffee because she took up the social slack. Parishioners would have a short conversation with Paul and a long one with Sara and then remember their positive experience with the minister and his wife as a unit. After she died, Paul’s solitary nature was more noticeable.
Paul watched Ian from across the room. He was not like any custodian the church had had. He attended services every Sunday. He greeted the church members and guests as they came through the door. (A couple of grouches in the church wondered if it was appropriate for “the janitor” to greet guests, but almost everyone else enjoyed it.) He knew everyone by name and could remember the names of their kids and grandkids. Ian was hard not to like. As he folded chairs and wiped up coffee spills, everyone he passed smiled and said hello. When he lifted the trash bag out of the bin, two church members stepped over to help.
Paul flashed back to a moment years ago when Sara had stood in the exact same spot, wearing a sleeveless yellow dress with flowers. Paul’s favorite. It was a potluck supper. Sara talked to each guest and gave them specific compliments on their dishes. She made a point, of course, to try them all. She asked for recipes and remembered exactly what the people brought the year before, even if they could not remember themselves. Sara was a perfect complement to Paul, both in his life and in his ministry. They were a powerful pair.
Paul returned to the present and saw Ian joking with the third-graders over the little cups of apple juice. Paul felt lucky and proud. Of all the people in the room who cared for Ian in some small fashion, only Paul knew him as well as he did. They had glimpses of Ian’s beauty, but only Paul had the full picture.
Ian complemented Paul just as Sara had. He was outgoing and personable. He drew people to him. Paul pictured Ian at a similar potluck, greeting each guest on their collective behalf, remembering their best recipes and the personal stories behind them. He imagined Ian teaching a religious education class, as Sara sometimes had, entertaining the kids with puppets. He pictured Ian shaking hands with the visitors on Christmas Eve and co-hosting a holiday dinner at their home for the staff. Ian would remember the names of spouses and cousins and grandkids, and Paul would give the perfect speech thanking them for their work over the course of the year. They would be the perfect team. Ian could be the one to bring Paul closer to his community.
Paul followed Ian with his eyes as he walked to the front of the social hall. As he turned, he noticed Julie in the far corner talking with Mike and Janice Davis. He couldn’t hear what they were saying, but as they spoke, they glanced at Ian and then at Paul. There was something about their posture that told Paul that he was the topic of their gossip. He could not pinpoint exactly what gave them away, but even from a distance he knew they were talking about what they had seen the other night at the Chinese buffet. His dream of the church welcoming Ian as his equal partner vanished in the harsh light of day. Paul left the social hall and retreated to his office. He shut the door and sat gazing at the Botticelli portrait tacked to his wall.
Fifteen minutes later, there was a knock on the office door. It was Julie. She stood in the door frame, massaging the joints of her right hand with her left.
“Can I talk to you for a minute?”
Paul didn’t remember any good conversations that started that way, but he gave an open smile and waved her in. “Sure, what’s on your mind?”
Julie sat down in one of the chairs in front of Paul’s desk. She picked up a paperweight and looked at it. She was having trouble making eye contact. “Well, I’m sure no one really takes any of this seriously, but you know people talk.”
“About what?”
“Well….” She set the paperweight back on the desk. “You know that everyone knows about Ian… that he’s gay.”
“Okay.”
“Mike was talking about it just now. It’s not just Mike. It’s obvious you two are close, and so there are rumors… because he’s gay.”
“Rumors?”
Julie brushed an invisible strand of hair away from her forehead. “He obviously has a crush on you.”
“Obviously?”
“You haven’t noticed.”
“No.”
“It’s obvious to everyone else.”
“It is?”
“Yeah. And it makes sense that he’d feel that way. It’s like when people fall in love with their therapists. What is that?”
“Transference?”
“Yeah. That’s it. You’ve helped him a lot.”
Paul took a pen out of the pencil holder on his desk and tapped it on the day planner. “What did Mike say exactly?”
“Oh,” Julie said, blushing. “He said he ran into you at a restaurant. He said…. He thought…. He said it looked like you were on a date.”
“What did you say?”
“I said that I thought he was kind of like a son to you. I mean, that’s right, isn’t it? But you should be careful, you know?”
“Careful of what?”
“I don’t mean that anyone really believes anything is happening between the two of you. But I’m wondering what Ian thinks is going on. I mean, he might be getting attached in a way you’re not comfortable with. You don’t want to lead him on. It’s not fair to him.”
