13
I went into the sacristy and came out with a small rectangle of white cloth, a purificator. It was normally used to wipe the communion chalice after every sip of wine.
Tonight, I used it to clean Poppy.
You might think that having s*x on my altar, using sacred things normally meant for rituals of the highest order, meant that I wasn’t taking my faith seriously, that I had slid straight past sin and into sacrilege, but that wasn’t the truth. Or it wasn’t the whole truth, at least. I couldn’t explain it, but it was like somehow it was all holy, the altar and the relic within and us on top of it. I knew that outside of this moment there would be guilt. There would be consequences. There would be the memory of Lizzy and all the things I had wanted to fight for.
But right now, with Poppy
