Panic strikes through me at her words. I was so caught up in my own despair I didn’t even think about what this means for Sol, for his future as a seminarian.
Will he confess what happened between us? I know how much Sol wants to be a priest. He’s wanted this since he was a young boy, and his commitment has not wavered . . . well until recently. Until me.
Mom gives my hands a squeeze, then says, “You’re strong, sweetheart. You’ll get through this.”
I nod, despite the doubts plaguing me.
How do you get over loving someone whose pieces are woven with yours so intricately he’s a part of you? How do you pretend that an earthquake didn’t split you in two?
My mom pats my hand before standing up. “Waffles?”
I shake my head, feeling nauseous at the mere thought of eating.
Her brow wrinkles in concern. “You have to eat something.”
“I will,” I say hurriedly, then swallow the bile rising up my throat. “I just need a few minutes.” She eyes me doubtfully, then reaches for my face and wipes the tears there. “I’m heading out to the diner in an hour. Will you be okay?”
I nod, giving her a shaky smile. The thought of being without Sol makes me feel physically ill. Maybe for some people first loves are nothing more than a milestone, a stepping stone until you find your forever person. But that’s not me.
My love for Sol is more than just a phase; I don’t know if I’ll ever get over him. But I need to be. I need to move on.
By the time Mom leaves for the diner, it’s almost nine o’clock in the morning. I retrieve my phone from under my pillow and switch it on. It buzzes with message alerts—two missed calls and five texts from MJ asking me to call her ASAP. I’m relieved, for my sanity’s sake, to see there are no text messages or calls from Sol.
Crawling onto the bed, I pull the blanket up to my chest and and stare at the screen while gathering the courage to call my best friend. Before I can chicken out, I tap her name, and hold my breath. She answers on the second ring.
“Oh my God, Grace,” she exclaims, bypassing any greetings. “What the hell’s going on? I called your mom last night when I couldn’t get you on the phone, and she sounded super worried.”
“That’s why I’m calling you actually,” I say. “First, I just want to apologize for not being honest with you.”
“What are you talking about?”
My throat tightens at her words. “Sol and I, um, we’ve been seeing each other.”
She’s quiet for several seconds, then says in a low voice. “So, you lied when you said you’d ended things.”
“I didn’t lie,” I blurt out. “I did end things, but then he and his uncle came to my house for Thanksgiving and one thing led to another . . .” Tears burn my eyes and I cover them to stop them from falling. “I’m so sorry, MJ.”
She sighs. “So, what? You feel guilty. That’s why you’re telling me this now?”
“Sol and I broke up. And—”
“You broke up.” She sighs. “Grace, how could you do this to yourself? Remember last time when you told me the same words? You were a complete mess!” She yells the last word. “And now, Christ, Grace. Why?”
“It was stupid of me, okay?” I yell back, sobbing. “And I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I was scared. So scared you’d think I was an idiot and you’d tell me to stop when I couldn’t. . . I just wanted him so badly.”
“Hey, hey, babe,” MJ soothes then adds, “Shh. I didn’t mean to yell. I’m just. . . it’s just—” She sucks in a deep breath—“I hated seeing you hurting. I still do. And I don’t know what to do. I feel helpless because you’re way over there and I’m here and I can’t punch you for being a love-struck idiot and then hug you.”
I laugh-cry and wipe my cheeks. “Just tell me everything is going to be okay.” I can’t remember ever crying as much as I have over the past twenty hours. I focus on a spot on the ceiling and push back the stupid tears.
“Of course, everything’s going to be okay,” she reassures me, then clicks her tongue. “I want to knock that boy on his ass for this.”
I laugh again because MJ is the most non-violent person I’ve ever come across. Pulling the blanket tighter around me, I mumble, “I miss him.”
“It’s okay to miss him,” she says. “You and Sol were so—” She cuts herself off and clears her throat, then asks, “What changed your mind?”
I want to ask her to finish the sentence, but I have a feeling her words might end up feeding the ache in my chest.
“I didn’t like the person I’d become. I couldn’t stand sneaking around with Sol anymore.” I take a long shuddering breath. “I want to be able to go out on dates to restaurants or walk in the park holding hands in daylight, you know?”
“Yeah, I know what you mean. And you deserve that kind of guy.”
We fall silent for several seconds, and then I say, “MJ?”
“Still here.”
“You’re a great friend.”
“I know.” She chuckles, then asks, “Wanna come and stay with me for a few days?”
“I’d love to, but I kind of need to stay here and help Mom with the diner. Rain check?”
“Sure. Just let me know.”
We chat for a few more minutes, then hang up.
I toss the phone on the pillow, then roll out of bed, taking the covers with me to the living room. I reach for the remote control and turn on the TV, before curling on the couch for some mindless TV watching. Sol still manages to sneak into my thoughts every few seconds, but I push him away, push the tears away.
Still, I can’t help but wonder what he’s doing and if he’s hurting as much as I am.
My alarm goes off at exactly five thirty in the morning. Rolling onto my back, I stare into the dark, straining my gaze until white spots fill my vision. Pain explodes inside my head and, I wince, squeezing my eyes shut.
Big mistake.
Yesterday’s events replay in my head. I bolt upright in bed, my pulse thudding in my ears. My stomach twists with nerves at the thought of what I need to do today.
Dropping my head in my hands, I squeeze my eyes shut again and clear my head of all chaotic thoughts.
For just a split second, I allow myself to imagine . . . what if things stay the way they are? Grace doesn’t want anything to do with me anymore. Luke is disappointed in me, obviously. I heard it in his voice on the phone last night. I’m directionless. Lost.
I shake my head, disgusted with myself.
What the heck, Solomon?
Would I go as far as lying just to get what I want? Haven’t I done that already?
I shudder at the thought.
How did this happen? When did I become this person? Selfish and blinded by my own needs? I’ve strayed so far off the path it’s appalling. Admittedly, I may not be ordained as a priest yet, but it all boils down to one thing: the vows are the same.
Retrieving my phone from under my pillow, I tap the screen, but it remains blank. The battery must have died sometime during the night.
I woke up last night to the sound of my phone buzzing with a text from Grace. She’d arrived home safely. After grappling with the need to call her, desperate to hear her voice, I ended up typing the words, “Thank God. I was worried.” She never texted back.