He continues watching me with stern eyes. “Your relationship with this girl, the sex . . . was it consensual?” he asks.
Memories of the first time Grace kissed me and the way I kissed her back explode inside my head. “Yes.”
He nods absently. “With the recent allegations of priests’ sexual misconduct concerning priests, their actions have caused grave scandal in the Catholic church. Before being admitted to seminary, we make sure the candidates undergo a rigorous psychological examinations. You passed every single one of them.
“You were one of Saint Bernard’s most promising seminarians, given the work you’ve done at your church and having Father Luke Foster as your mentor.”
I don’t know what to say, so I wait for him to continue.
“You understand we can’t allow you to remain in the program.”
I swallow hard and meet his gaze, his words buzzing in my head.
“This matter will be brought to the attention of the disciplinary board. We’ll get in touch with you as soon as Monsignor Martinez flies back from Quebec in a few days. In the meantime, I’d advise against interacting with any students and to leave the premises as soon as possible.”
I nod and lick my dry lips, my body numb. Adam must have felt like this after being banished from the Garden of Eden. Hopeless desperation claws inside my chest.
I’ve only ever met the rector—Monsignor Martinez—once. He’s famous for his stern countenance and no-nonsense attitude. The thought of seeing him under these circumstances shoots trepidation down my spine.
When Father McLean stands up and rounds his desk, I rise to my feet as well, just as he stops in front of me. “Good bye, son.”
I nod and say “Goodbye, Father McLean,” before spinning around and heading for the door. I’m in a daze as I head to my room.
Twenty minutes later, I’m in my truck driving around Boston with no destination in mind. One hour later, I end up in Roslindale and park my Chevy outside the cemetery. I haven’t been here in a while.
My phone starts to ring as I zip up my coat, but I ignore it and weave my way through the trees. The snow crunches beneath my booted feet as I make my way toward my parents’ tombstones. I stop in front of the two marble stones with the names ‘Mary Callan’ and ‘James Callan’ imprinted on them.
Shoving my hands inside my pockets, I just stand there staring at the names, attempting to rearrange my thoughts. Eventually, I crouch down and brace my elbows on my knees with my head bowed.
“Hey, Mom, Dad,” I say. “I need you. I’ve made a complete mess of my life, and I’m not proud of it. I wish you were here.” Suddenly, I’m overwhelmed by emotion as everything that has happened since summer flashes inside my head. Tears blur my vision, and I inhale shakily. “I know you encouraged me to make my own decisions and learn from my mistakes. You know how I’ve always aspired to be a priest like Uncle Luke? I thought—no, I believed that was what God had planned for me. Well, I met a girl . . . Grace. I hurt her so badly, and I don’t know how to make it better. I’ve disappointed so many people, people I love and respect. Please, please tell me everything’s going to be okay.”
I wipe my cheeks and straighten. “I miss you so much. I’ve been suspended from the seminary.” My cheeks heat with embarrassment at my admission. “I don’t think I can face Luke or the people from the church right now, so I’m gonna spend a few days at the house and lie low.”
I linger for several more seconds before going back to my truck.
My life is one big mess at the moment. I need space to think and regroup. I need to find a way to crawl out of this hole I dug myself into.
After visiting my parents’ graves on Monday, I drove back to my house because I wanted to be alone. I wanted to feel safe after everything that had happened, and my childhood home offered me the safety I needed. That evening, after talking to Luke I collapsed in bed and slept until midday the following day.
I finally leave the house on Wednesday afternoon to drive to Portland to wait for the phone call that will determine if I’m able to continue with theseminary or not. Right now, I wish the apartment Ivan and I had rented was still available. After school started, we gave it up because we didn’t need it anymore. I need a place to unpack my thoughts and think about my next step forward. I love my uncle, but I have to do this on my own.
Dark clouds hover with the promise of a winter storm. A few minutes into my drive, large snowflakes begin to fall from the sky, covering the roads, making it almost impossible to see five feet in front of me. Carefully, I navigate the truck to the highway, making sure to maintain a safe space between my Chevrolet and the car ahead of me.
I’m not sure what to expect, and that terrifies me. Not that Luke has said anything to make me feel like this. It’s just that, looking into the eyes of the one person who has had my back since my parents died and seeing disappointment instead of pride, well, that kind of sucks.
Still, I can’t avoid him forever. He’s the only family I have, and I’ll do anything and everything in my power to make things work between us.
Almost two and a half hours later, I park my truck in a familiar parking lot. I glance out the window and my heart speeds up when I realize where I am.
I blink at the ‘Deb’s Diner’ sign and groan. What are you doing, Sol?
During my drive, my mind wandered so many times to Grace, my subconscious must have taken over and steered me here. I duck my head and squint, trying to get a glimpse of her. Maybe once I do, my restless heart will find peace.
My phone starts ringing, startling me. I fish it out of my pocket and answer the call without checking the caller ID.
“What the fuck, Sol? Why haven’t you answered my calls and texts?” Ivan asks.
I wince, his words like bullets to my chest. I didn’t call him back after the meeting with Father McLean. I couldn’t bring myself to tell my best friend that I’d been lying to him and everyone else.
“You still there?” he barks.
“I’m here. Sorry.”
“Yeah? Sorry for ignoring me or for whatever you and Grace have been up to? Jesus, Sol. You gave that girl hope for nothing. You should have let her go and cut your losses.”
I’m a selfish prick. That’s what I want to tell him, but instead I ask, “How do you know about Grace and me?” Then it hits me. Grace must have told MJ, and MJ told Ivan. “Let me guess, MJ told you, right?”
He huffs. “I shouldn’t have to hear something like this from someone else, man.”
I lean my head back on the headrest and stare at the roof of my truck. “You’re right. I should have told you. I’m sorry.”
“Damn right,” he says, his tone losing some of the heat. “You okay?”
I sigh. “Not really. I met with my spiritual director—”
“Wait, why? Did he know about you and Grace? Or did someone report you?”
“I told him,” I admit. “I just . . . it was the right thing to do.”
He whistles under his breath. “So, you really love Grace?”
“I wouldn’t have risked everything if I didn’t.”
“Wow. Well, that’s, wow. How did the meeting go?”