The return

I heard the bells before I saw him. The Angelus, echoing through Trastevere, sharp and insistent, like it had something to tell me, something I wasn’t ready to hear.

I paused on the balcony, the morning sun drying my face, but all I could feel was the fluttering in my chest, an eagerness to be in church.

Father Matteo Romano had returned. From Paris, where he was ordained a priest , from a life I only imagined. And now, he was here, in my parish, in the very church where I had spent so many hours kneeling, praying, obeying, pretending I was always in control.

The news is already everywhere, and people are eager to attend mass because they'll be having a "new" priest, at least someone younger than the over aged one we've been coping with.

Still standing on the balcony, I watched people hurry through the streets and blocks, getting ready for mass like it's Christmas or something.

I’d walked these streets a thousand times. Every alley, every church doorway was familiar. Yet today, Trastevere felt charged, like the air itself was rushing.

“The new priest has arrived!!" young, promising and eligible.” My father’s voice echoed from downstairs.

“Blessed, perhaps. The parish will be renewed.” My mother added.

I swallowed hard. Priests came and went, parishes renewed and reformed. I’d heard it all before. But this… this felt different.

At the parish, the pews filled quickly. My family sat in our usual spot, front row, center aisle, perfect statues of propriety. I folded my hands in my lap, but my mind wandered.

And then he appeared.

Father Matteo Romano, Tall, dark, very masculine, Composed. And yet… something about him made the air around him triggering. He didn’t sweep the room with grand gestures. He simply smiled a bit.

“Peace be with you,” he said, calm, steady.

“And with your spirit,” the congregation replied.

He preached carefully. Words of devotion, patience, obedience. Simple. Measured. But I felt them personally, like he was speaking straight to me, I mean whatever he was saying because the truth is I had drifted into thoughts that I couldn't quantify, my body was present as the paraded the alter in confidence. I could hear his voice but I couldn’t hold on to any word he was saying.

"He's handsome" I thought to myself,

For the first time, I didn't want mass to end, I just wanted to keep feeding my eyes as my curiosity grew wilder.

"What could really be under those layers of garments?"

"Why has he changed so much? I used to know Matteo before he became a priest, he grew up here in Rome, but he was way older than I was then, so we never engaged in any form of familiarity.

I wondered how much of unease I'll have to be dealing with now that he be our priest and I have to sit in front row with my parents. It's more like facing your demons, but this one is clothed in white and cream.

I tried not to stare too hard or too focused on him but the more I look, the more I want to see.

My palm became sweaty, and I could feel a growing moisture between my tights.

A loud clapping shrugged me back to reality, I was obviously confused, but I clapped too.

I could see the happiness on my dad's face, my mum's wasn't less.

If others are perceiving the priest as a "next after God kind of being" What is wrong with my nose?

The choristers sang like it was their last day in church, they gave their all impress or rather welcome Fr.Matteo.

My prayer after communion was really struggling. I couldn't make a complete sentence I as prayed, it was just in pieces of distraction and uncontrollable thought that made me feel guilty.

After the long mass, everyone was rushing to have a word or handshake with Fr.Matteo, he blessed some rosaries as gift which a man server gave to every one that came to say hello to him, including kids.

It was time for my family to go meet and greet. I purposely delayed by arranging the hymnals that was on the counter where we sat.

"Come on honey" my mum ordered me to follow them.

We got to where he was and my parents were so glad, the handshake lingering a little longer.

"Good morning Fr.Matteo" my voice pretended like it's not about to betray me.

"Bless you Elena" he said without blinking, looking deep into my soul, I'd say he could see I was uneasy but he smiled and offered me a rosary.

"He remembers my name!" The reality of him calling my name felt weird, but who wouldn't know me?

I am Elena Moretti, the only daughter of Mr and Mrs Moretti, my father is one of the most dedicated philanthropists and benefactors of the church and the town.

My mother urged me to collect the rosary from him.

As we were leaving, I was tempted to look back, but what if he caught me? I wasn't ready for the embarrassment, so I kept my neck stiff straight till we got to the car.

My parents won't stop chatting about how nice the priest is, they adored the gift and told me to be more dedicated with the little work I did for God in the church. I usually take out a couple of days to go arrange the hymnals and clean the chapel with the help of few other youths in the church.

Will I still be going? This is a question I can't answer yet untill I find out why I'm having this strange feeling around this "new but not so new priest"

At night I kept picturing him in my mind, I shamelessly smiled to myself as my imaginations grew crazy. I don't know what I'm feeling but it felt like something I'll be struggling to suppress but we'll see how hard it can get. I mean it's never going to be that deep because he's a priest in God's church.