The Permissive Purity of Father Fontane

Part 1

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The older priest shuffled his feet as he strode the avenue. “Didn’t use to be like this,” he said to his new acquaintance. “Before I got here, we’d be stirring up used condoms right now instead of them pretty leaves. And on up a couple of blocks, there was pimps and pushers and prostitutes and porn shops. All gone to the wretched city where they belong.”

“Hard to believe. But, how did you do it?” asked the younger man.

“Long story. I was a priest for a long time at the diocese before we all had a falling out. Not a sin thing. They just didn’t like what I was saying. Then, I started gettin’ some followers and the Cardinal wanted me gone but had no cause. So, they offer the deed here to their failing church and a steepleful of cash and only a fool woulda said ‘no’. This parish was dieing. Hell, the clergy couldn’t relate to the people. Couldn’t keep the city clean. I come along and do both. Got influence with the town council. Got downtown spruced up. Got the name changed to Pristine Valley.”

“Yeah, it does seem pretty pristine, Father Fontane.”

“Everett. Call me Everett. Do you mind if I call you Simon or would you prefer Father Dott?

“Well, I’m not a priest anymore, which leads me to the question of why you called me here.”

“Opportunity Simon. Opportunity.” He brushed back some of his white, cotton candy hair. “We’ll get to that. For now, let’s walk and be glad our eyes ain’t torched by perversions like in the city. Won’t see a lick of that here. Check the newspaper. Clean as a whistle.”

They walked for several blocks amid storefronts that glistened with newness and people who greeted with smiles while children roamed freely without harm.

“Here … church property. We’ll go to my office. Talk a bit til my counseling appointment.” He motioned for his visitor to have a seat and he continued. “You see Simon, I can’t handle all of this. You’re what—43? I need help, especially with counseling.”

“Father—I mean Everett, you know no diocese will take me back or let me counsel anyone.”

“Ah, but if we can redeem Pristine Valley, then we can redeem your history. Besides, we ain’t part of the diocese. Independent. Do as we see fit.”

Eventually the box on the desk squawked, “Father, your 4:30 is here.”

A short, blond mother entered with a her son who was just as blond.

“Father, I am so glad you take time for us. I know you’re busy and we’re one of the lucky ones.”

“Indeed Miss Kaski. But, ours is a mission of good deeds.”

He invited Dott and the woman to get to know one another in the waiting room while he met with the boy in his office, but before they parted, he asked, “Miss Kaski, have you thought more about selling your home? The city is no place for a boy like yours.”

“It’s difficult Father. Maybe after the divorce.”

As Dott began conversing with the woman, he felt warmed by her smile and easy manner which made him feel comfortable, as did the older building that creaked with tradition and reminded him of better times.

Yes—comfortable.

For awhile.

Until the woman leaned to him and in a hushed tone said, “I don’t know what I would have done if not for Father Fontane. How lucky for us that he is willing to find time in his schedule. I mean, where else could I go and find such a decent man to help me with my son? He’s a cocksucker you know.”

Dott’s insides gasped. Who was a cocksucker? Is that what they were doing? No! Couldn’t be! Fontane had converted a decadent valley into one of wholesomeness. He was a man of the cloth, a man devoted to good deeds, and a man who had left his former diocese in good standing.

But then, Simon Dott hadn’t known Father Everett Fontane very long.

In time, the Father’s office door opened. Fontane and the boy were smiling and after hugs all around the mother and son departed and Fontane fell back to his office chair.

“Such a good boy. Nice family, don’t you think?”

“I suppose. I mean, yes. Yes.”

“’You don’t sound sure.”

“No, no I’m sure. But, she said something that was…unexpected.”

“And what was that?”

Dott stalled, wondering if he should continue. “She said…She said that her boy is…well, that her boy is a cocksucker. Just came right out and said it.”

“Ah. Well. Yes. Simon, we accept all kinds. And we don’t judge. The Kaski’s come all the way from the city so I figure least I can do is take time for them.”

“And taking time means counseling.”

“Of course. What else do you want to call it?”

“I don’t know. Just the way she said it. Made me wonder…”

“Wonder? You mean wonder if he’s blowing me?” Fontane laughed and adjusted his collar. With his eyes down and in almost a whisper he said, “Of course he’s blowing me.” Then, he looked up and added, “And pretty damned well I might add.”

The younger man nearly fell off of his chair. How could Fontane admit to it and how could he do it so freely? Was it all a dream or was this some kind of Twilight Zone?