I hear the sound of sheets rustling, then a low moan, followed by a deep voice muttering, “Who’s that, babe?”
Oh shit.
Ivan.
“Don’t tell him!” I whisper urgently into the phone.
“Why? He’s So—”
“Oh my God! Don’t say his name!”
She huffs, and murmurs, “It’s no one. Go back to sleep, babe.”
Ivan groans and mutters something unintelligible, and seconds later, the sound of snoring fills the line.
“Where are you right now?” she asks in a low voice.
“On my way home. Just an hour away.”
“I’ll be waiting at Fisher’s Gold. I need details,” she grumbles, then adds, “and coffee.”
She disconnects the call before I can respond.
I stare at the phone in the docking station for a few seconds before returning my attention to the road.
MJ is sitting at the table near the window at Fisher’s Gold, holding a large mug to her mouth as she takes a big sip. The chair next to hers is empty. I glance around the little shop to make sure Ivan didn’t tag along, then sigh in relief when I don’t see him anywhere.
As I make my way to where she’s sitting, the scent of coffee and pastries slams into me, reminding me I skipped breakfast in my haste to get back to Portland.
“Hey,” I greet her, pulling a chair out and sitting down.
Her head snaps up in my direction and she grins. “You naughty girl! Tell me everything.”
Apparently, coffee makes MJ more agreeable and fun.
After ordering a breakfast fit for a king, I sit back and tell MJ everything. I’m grateful for her friendship because talking to someone about it all is exactly what I needed.
She eyes me and purses her lips thoughtfully. “He might be expelled if they know he’s been fooling around.”
I nod. “That’s why I decided to end whatever it is that we were doing.”
“So”—she licks her lips—“you’ve found the closure you were looking for?”
No. “Yes.”
“Good. I know you miss him, and it will probably take a while for the pain to go away, but he’s chosen his path. It’s time to choose yours, too.” Her voice is soft, her expression softer.
I really admire her no-nonsense approach to things. MJ is so grounded. I wish I were more like her and not the flighty, indecisive person I’ve been lately.
She cups her mug and brings it to her lips, taking a large sip of coffee, then sets it back on the table, keeping her hands around it.
She’s right. I need to get my shit together. “Ivan and I are heading back to school tomorrow. He only drove me here to visit Grandma.”
I nod again, trying hard not to feel like a failure.
Breathe.
I’ll get through it somehow. I need to look for something to do before next year’s fall semester.
MJ attends James Fredricks, as well, for the sports and recreational management program. Mom and I will be driving to visit Fredricks in two weeks, which I’m really looking forward to, especially now. I need to focus on my future.
For the first time in a very long time, a small spark of hope blooms inside my chest.
There are angels and demons at war inside my head, and the demons are winning.
I’m sitting across the table from Grace, the only person who has the power to silence the chaos in my head, and at the same time cause mayhem in my heart. I can’t stop staring at her. Her lips highlighted in deep red lipstick, the way her rich brown skin glows when the soft lighting from the lamp above us hits at the right angle, her curly hair banded at the nape of her neck, displaying a heart-shaped face that makes me question my calling.
I should be heeding the advice of my spiritual director to remove myself from temptation. Instead, I’m wondering if she still tastes and smells like vanilla waffles.
I wonder if this is God’s test of my loyalty to him. How long will my resolve hold before everything falls apart?
I’m home from seminary for Thanksgiving. Grace’s mother, Debra, invited my uncle and me for dinner.
I should have politely refused the invitation and avoided placing myself directly in the path of wickedness, so close to the one person who makes me want to sin ten ways from Sunday. Instead, I accepted, then spent the next few hours alternating between meditation and praying feverishly to God for strength. Then I threw on a pair of running shorts and a T-shirt and went for a run, hoping the chilly November weather would help me focus.
By the time we left the rectory, I had steeled myself with resolve and patience and strength. That is, until Debra opened the door and stepped aside, inviting us into her home, and my eyes landed on Grace, standing beside the table with her hands clasped primly in front of her.
She smiled sweetly my way, and it hit me—coming here was a big mistake.
As we eat, conversation flows easily, but in my mind the same words keep playing, crowding my thoughts. I hope my hard-on is not that obvious. God, give me strength to get through this dinner without embarrassing myself.
It’s hard to function when your mind is in turmoil. Hard to breathe when your heart is in your throat.
I’m not sure whether I love her or hate her. I don’t know if it’s myself I should hate for allowing her to occupy my mind, or if I should thank God for giving me the ability to love her so much that I’ve made an altar in my head of the memories we shared.
My gaze strays every so often to Grace. Hers briefly meets mine, sending a jolt of heat—again—straight to my groin before she looks away. Her eyes stay firmly on her plate as she lifts the fork to her mouth.
Oh, God.
Her sin-worthy lips part and close around the forkful of mashed potatoes, and I groan inwardly, picturing that mouth on me.
I quickly drop my gaze to my own plate and subtly shift in my seat, desperate for relief. I tug down my napkin on my lap, hiding the visible bulge in my pants. Squeezing my eyes shut briefly, I mutter, “Forgive me, Father. Forgive me, Father. Forgive me, F—”
“You okay?” Luke asks in a low voice.
My eyes fly open and my head makes an awkward jerk meant as a nod. From the corner of my eye, I see him assess me with those knowing eyes of his. Judging by the look he’s giving me, the answers to his curious thoughts are written all over my face for the world to see. He turns away, frowning, and continues chatting with Debra.
The heart is weak, greedy, and reckless. Selfish, my spiritual director advised while staring intently into my eyes during our last session together before I left St. Bernard Seminary for Thanksgiving break. Stay away from temptation. If something or someone leads you to consider sinning or to have impure thoughts, then it is wise to remove yourself from that situation.
The words are clear in my head now, yet, here I am. Unable to remove myself from this situation without looking obvious.
I could drag her to her room.
I could kiss her.
I could—
Stop.
Guilt cuts through my conscience, causing my stomach to twist painfully. I shut my eyes tight again, trying to rid myself of those thoughts.
I don’t even care at this point if I look like the veins in my forehead are about to burst with effort. If I don’t block her out, if I don’t block Grace out, my restraint will snap. When I close my eyes, it’s easier to see the face of my spiritual director staring down at me with such disappointment at my thoughts. It helps. A little bit.