The Other Priest
What is Your Reflection Thinking?
A flutter on my forehead interrupts my evening ablutions as I remove my tab collar and set it on the counter. I lean into the mirror and stare at the lone hair, a graying sentinel defending the forgotten frontline of a hair battle I lost long ago.
I discharge the holdout with a pinch and tug, then grab my toothbrush from its cup next to the mirror. Instead of my reflection grabbing the copy of my toothbrush on his side of the glass, however, he reaches through the surface and grips my hand in his.
“You should have kept that, Todd,” he says, caressing the back of my hand with his thumb. “Three or four more and you’d have a fine combover.”
“WhooaaaAAHHH!!!” I shriek and yank my hand away.
“You have a point. It’d be a mediocre combover at best. Still—”
“You—” I say, rubbing my hand.
“—I’d find it adorable.”
“You . . . you shouldn’t be here.”
“Of course, I should,” he said, pushing his other hand through the mirror and leaning on the sink. “How else could I ask you out?”
“Ask me . . . what?”
“Out. I mean, how long are we going to moon over each other through the glass without making a move?”
“A move? No! I’m not—”
I grab him around the wrists and try to push his hands back into the mirror, but my fists hit the surface and refuse to go through, leaving his hands flapping on my side of the glass.
“You’re not what?” he asks.
Before I can answer, he leaps to sit on his side of the counter and then spins his legs and scoots his bum around until he’s perched on my edge of the vanity.
“I can’t go out with—” I say, retreating and cornering myself against the back wall of the bathroom. “—I’m a priest. My congregation would apostatize if they saw me on a date with . . . well, with me.”
My reflection springs off the counter, steps towards me, and places his hands on my shoulders.
“We’re lonely, Todd,” he says, his gaze penetrating mine. “Let me stay.”
I meet his gaze for a moment and then drop my eyes.
“I admit,” I say with a sigh, “this is the best conversation I’ve had in these quarters—”
“It’s the only conversation you’ve had here, Todd. It’s a suite of seclusion.”
I look into his eyes again. My palm moves to caress his face.
“—but, the risk to my career,” I say, staying my hand.
“We’ll pretend we’re twins,” he says, leaning in, mouth parting. “Nobody will suspect.”
I close my eyes and hold my hands up in defense. He pushes through and kisses me, holds me.
“No!” I say, eyes still shut. I shove him away, breaking the kiss. “I’ll know.”
I open my eyes. My palms are pressed against the mirror. My reflection is staring back, mimicking my every move. The taste of Windex fills my mouth.
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