Pretty Darn Hot

  Most days she was just Cathy, her one close friend called her Cat. But on Sundays, she always loved to hear Fr. Emery’s reassuring voice say the word, “Catherine”.

 

   Mass was hot, not that Catherine minded the heat that much, she was use to it. Catherine enjoyed her afternoon walks, usually in the nearby cemetery, no matter how hot it got. The heat, in a way, made her feel more alive.

 

  Those attending mass crammed in around would beg to differ. Why in hell the air conditioner in the church would go out on one of the hottest Sunday’s of the year was tortuous. “A taste of hell”, cooed one old bitty to no one in particular. Catherine glistened stoically in her pew, oblivious to the stench of sweat air. She had more important things on her mind - six foot two, eyes of blue and no ring around this man’s collar.

 

  There was little Fr. Emery could do to cool the situation. Bratty children only became brattier the longer they were held hostage in this stained glass oven of God. While overweight, drenched men couldn’t help but ask themselves if this was only a taste of what would be coming them. And then there were the women, those with their make-up beginning to run hideously in between their wrinkles, feeling a sense a shame unlike one they’d felt in years.

 

   Catherine’s lips rose up ever slightly. She was hoping God wouldn’t notice her taking pleasure from the plight of others.  Catherine was raised a good Christian, she would never wish harm or discomfort on anymore. Well, except maybe Rachel, the childhood friend now turned b***h.  Surely God would make an exception and never forgive Rachel, not after the lies ‘little miss big mouth’ had spread about Catherine and her fantasies.

 

   When mass was finished she nervously stood to leave. Fr Emery smiled her way, making her even more nervous. Was he smiling at her? Possibly, maybe, oh, of course not! She had helped out at the latest church rummage sale and Fr.Emery was good at remembering such things. Well maybe, he was smiling at her.

 

  Catherine lingered in her pew waiting for the crowd to thin before getting up to leave. When she got to the entrance, Fr. Emery was looking very priestly and gorgeous saying his hellos to those filing past. “Well, Catherine! How nice it is to see you glistening on this fine sunny day!” Catherine could have just melted right there and then but managed a thin smile around her blushing face. She then proceeded to lay it on thick about what a wonderful eulogy Fr. Emery had given.

 

  On her drive home she stopped for groceries. The twelve-pack was icy cold as she placed it in her cart. She picked out a few more staples to make it appear she had not come in just for beer. She rarely shopped for groceries after mass but her beer supply was dangerously low and it was, pretty damn hot.

 

  When she got home she was feeling almost giddy for reasons that eluded her. She decided that the beer could wait until after she had watered her flowers. Most of her flowers were in pots but there was one that grew out back that she was especially fond of.

. She even named it, only to herself, “Fr. Emery”. A rather peculiar name for a yucca plant or any plant for that matter but Catherine felt it appropriate.  She looked forward each year to the impressive stalk growing longer by the day until it finally blossomed beautifully just for her.

 

  With her chores done it was now time to reward herself with a cold beer. As she sipped her beer and watched the neighbor play fetch with his dog she was soon cracking the tab back on another, and yet another. But who’s keeping tabs, besides it was, pretty damn hot.

 

  She decided to go back out and check on “Fr Emery”. He was drooping just a bit, maybe from the heat. She gently reached out and put her hand around the semi-limp stalk, and gripped it tightly.

 

  It too, felt pretty damn hot. As Catherine’s sweat began to tickle throughout, the pleasure was hers. But she never forgot, “There are some things, you just don’t confess.”