Atheists Who Kneel and Pray

by Tarryn Fisher

  “I have caused you so much hurt, for years,” I say. “Please forgive me for leaving. I don’t know how to be what you need and I’m afraid you won’t let me try.”

  “I’m here, Yara. I don’t need anything from you,” David says. “You put those expectations on yourself. I’ve loved you for five years and out of those five years we’ve had maybe six months of uninterrupted happiness. The rest has been me loving you from a distance. I can and will keep doing that if you don’t give me a choice. I am committed to loving you. I’m just a simple man who fell in love with a complex woman.”

  I laugh, I can’t help myself. “You’re not even a little bit simple,” I say.

  “When it comes to love I am.”

  I lean back in my chair, pressing the heels of my hands to my eye sockets.

  “How?” I ask, straightening up. “Tell me how and maybe I can be that too.”

  “You can’t,” he says. “For years I wanted what my parents and siblings had. The spouse, the house, the stability, the kids, and the plastic tires rolling over asphalt. The pure love, you know? But love has made me unstable for five years. I’ve written my best music in this unstable state.”

  We both laugh even though it’s not funny.

  “We don’t always get what we think we want. Actually, we very rarely do.” He smiles.

  That was true. That was so true.

  “I got you. And you are the opposite of stability, yes?”

  “Yes,” I agree.

  I don’t know where he’s going with this. I’m nervous.

  “If I can’t have you I don’t want nobody, baby,” he sings and I laugh. “I don’t want a divorce,” he says. “And there’s no one else for me. I’ve had so many years to think about this, Yara. To deal with all of it.”

  He smiles absently and runs a hand over his face. He’s tired. I’ve made him so tired. I want to be the peace in his life, not the conflict.

  “I can’t promise perfection, David, but I won’t be like I was, and I won’t do what I did. I won’t run again.”

  “Even to your old age and grey hairs I am he, I am he who will sustain you. I have loved you and I will carry you; I will sustain you and I will rescue you,” he says.

  I sling my arms around his neck and he bends down till our noses are touching.

  “I’m your style, English,” he says, kissing the corner of my mouth and then my lips. His kiss lingers for too long and I hit him on the chest with my fist.

  “Oh my God, David. Now’s not the time to write a bloody song!”

  He laughs against my mouth and then we’re both laughing, holding onto each other so we don’t fall.

  Later that day, I open the car door, walk up the narrow sidewalk, and slip the key into the lock of my mother’s house. That’s where I stop, my hands frozen on the doorknob, panicking. I don’t know how long I’m there, but suddenly David is behind me. He stands so close, my back is pressed against his chest. I lean into him, my eyes wide and unfocused. The blue of the door blurs in front of me. David reaches around my shoulder and puts his hand over mine where it rests on the doorknob. I turn it and step inside.

  Ellie who worked tirelessly to create the cover I imagined. And who broke her own rules to prove friendship.

  Lori Sabin, best friend and best eyes. Thank you for always putting everything aside to clean up my manuscripts. Erica Russikoff for proof reading, your attention to detail is amazing. Jaime, Tasara and Kirsty. Ally Hyne, for your most excellent spreadsheet abilities. Jovana Shirley, Christine Estevez, Stephanie Alcala, the PLNs and the many bloggers who take beautiful photos and give heartfelt reviews, thank you so very much. Colleen Hoover, the best example of class, kindness and support in this industry.

  Amy Holloway who I cannot live without. Your rare enthusiasm helped me finish this book. Also your wine.

  Serena, my God. Where do I even start? Of all the great blessings that I have been given since the beginning of this journey, you are by far the greatest. I wanted to give you something special. So here is the book of my heart.

  Kayla, thank you for your Cheeeto’s and your wit, and your beauty. You were the perfect muse.

  Joshua Ryan Norman, you’re fucking dreamy you know that? Thank you for showing me what love looks like and for restoring my heart. I can’t believe we got married. The fuck?

  Abba. Most High. The Beginning and the End. Jehovah. The Lion and the Lamb. Elohim. Adonai. Yahweh. Yeshua. Yahweh Rapha. Yahweh Shammah. El Elyon. El Roi. Ancient of Days. Jehovah Jireh. I Am, that I Am, that I Am. Father, my Father.

  I am

  I am

  I am

  yours

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