The minister (standard:Psychological fiction, 1424 words)
Author: jopoguerrero	Added: Sep 20 2008	Views/Reads: 3642/2279	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
Guilt

Click here to read the first 75 lines of the story

is an expert in rudely avoiding throngs of suitors. 

He is an alumnus of UP – bachelor, graduate and post graduate degrees.
He teaches at a local catholic college. Besides math, he loves poetry 
and short fiction. He is married, but not blessed with children. 

“So, where's madam? Can't attend the mass today?” Donna playfully asked.


Gloom suddenly crept upon Paolo's face. He carefully studied Donna's
questioning eyes; then forced a smile, a very sad smile. “Yap, she 
can't make it today. She can't also make it tomorrow, or the day 
after.” 

Tears swelled in his eyes. “Well, since we have already opened the
topic, I think I should tell you – my wife, my poor wife, is dying due 
to brain cancer. She is bedridden. Five months at most, that's what the 
doctor said. And yes, one of the reasons I serve in the mass everyday 
is to gather God's mercy for my dear wife, my poor wife.” 

Donna was tongue-tied, but she grappled for some words. “I'm sorry.” 

As she gently rubbed Paolo's hands, she felt an uncertain feeling, like
a cross of relief and sympathy – but mostly, relief. 

Since then, their after-mass meetings became regular – in restaurants,
coffee shops, burger stands and pizza parlors. For Donna, they were 
short yet sweet meetings. 

A week before Donna went back to Diliman for her final year in college,
she invited Paolo for a sunset picnic at the beach. At first, Paolo 
hesitated. Yet due to her tearful pleas, he gave in. 

They went to the beach in Donna's van. They arrived before the sunset,
just in time for the final show of the day star. With reclined car 
seats, they enjoyed the daring fusion of fiery orange and ruby red – 
the beauty embraced their bodies, their minds and their spirits. 

Then unexpectedly, Donna caressed Paolo's face.  She lovingly touched
his eyes, his nose, his lips. 

Before Paolo could say a word, Donna pulled him to a deep, passionate
kiss – wild, wet, wanton. Their eyes met as they roughly undressed each 
other. The space in the van was limited, yet when their lips locked 
again, it seemed like a wide, heavenly room that facilitated their 
daring fusion – not just once, but twice under the setting sun. 

Minutes after their simoon cooled down, Paolo apologetically held
Donna's hands. “I'm sorry, I should not have let it happen....I'm 
married and I'm old enough to be your father.” 

She responded by giving him another kiss. 

Donna went back to Diliman the following week. But almost every weekend,
she went home to Laoag to fall into Paolo's arms. 

When Paolo's wife died, they temporarily stopped their meetings – out of
respect for the dead. They agreed to meet at a coffee shop near the 
bell tower two weeks after the burial. A painful interregnum for Donna; 
Paolo's absence worsened her longing for his touch and kisses. 

Two weeks passed like a seething hell. And when they finally met again,
Donna could hardly control her craving for Paolo – she wanted to hold 
him tight and drink his lips for eternity. But such yearnings were not 
quenched. 

She was met by a different Paolo.  The sparkling eyes, the warm smile,
the tender touch – all gone, even his presence has turned cold. 

“Donna, I know this is hard for you,” Paolo started. “But if you really
love me, you will let me fulfill my promise.” 

“What do you mean?” Donna felt the rush of blood to her head. 

Paolo held her quaking hands. “In her deathbed, I promised my wife not
to be with another woman, even after she is gone.” 

The words rammed at Donna's heart. “But you've been breaking your
promises to her even when she was still dying. Can't you break your 
last promise to her, now that she's gone? For me? Please 
Paolo....Please?” 

Paolo gently kissed her hands, then he walked away. 

That was almost a month ago. 

Now – while Paolo was distributing the Bodies of Christ, Donna pulled
Paolo to her deep, passionate kiss. He let go of the ciborium – it 
clanked loudly on the marble floor – as he gave in to the ravenous lips 
and searching tongue of Donna. All of a sudden, she bit his trembling 
lips. 

It was mean, deep and painful. Paolo struggled for release and gave a
long, frightful howl. 

Paolo was still struggling when he felt a slap from a fellow lay
minister. He was stunned, confused. He looked around – they were in the 
sacristy. Some lay ministers and altar boys surrounded him. 

“Sorry, I had to slap you,” a minister explained. “You suddenly went
berserk while distributing hosts. We had to drag you here because the 
people started to panic.” 

“Donna, she was here, she bit me!” Paolo searched the room. 

“Donna?” an elderly lay minister said. “The kid you tried to save? My
God, it was not your fault, Paolo. She killed herself. She jumped from 
the top of the bell tower. We all saw it. We even saw how you put 
yourself at risk while convincing her not to jump. It was not your 
fault. Get over it, for God's sake, Paolo!” 

Paolo fell silent. Tears dropped from his eyes as blood trickled from
his trembling lips. 


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