by Skyla Madi
Cassia spots me coming and sidesteps toward the confession booths. Jeremy cuts her off and their fucking parents keep walking without a glance. She glances at me as Jeremy brushes his hand along her shoulder in a faux display of comfort. I will punch this guy right in his mouse-like face.
A few feet away, I hear her tell him she’s fine and that she doesn’t need fresh air. Where the hell did this guy come from anyway? He hasn’t approached her before so why is he touching her now? Whatever the reason, it needs to stop.
Cassia doesn’t look at me as I saunter up to her and stand close, but Jeremy does. He quirks a dark eyebrow and drops his hand back to his side.
“Chase a different skirt, Jeremy.” I tell him. “This one is mine.”
His black eyes widen, his eyebrows curving into soft arches. “Oh. You two are—”
“—not dating.” Cassia chips in, pinning me with an annoyed glare.
Not technically. I smile at her and my stomach flips, filling me with untapped excitement. You beautiful bitch.
“We’re totally dating.”
Jeremy runs the palm of his hand over the back of his head. “This isn’t confusing at all…”
She laughs, awkwardly, and sways hard enough to elbow me in the ribs. Hissing, I clench my side. She’s out of her fucking mind if she thinks I’m going to walk away. I like her.
I really like her.
What I don’t like are dicks like Jeremy who think talking to her is…okay. Yes, I’m aware that sounds ridiculous, but the thought of him doing something as harmless as talking to her rubs me the wrong way. Maybe I’ve finally fallen off the deep end.
“Let me clarify it for you.”
“Caleb.” Cassia warns, wrapping her hand, her skin as soft as silk, around my wrist and squeezes.
“I don’t mean any disrespect, Jer, but I fuck her incredibly well. Incredibly well.”
“Caleb.” She hisses, dropping my wrist.
“There’s absolutely no way your teeny tiny little dick could ever please her the way she so desperately needs to be pleased.”
Cursing, Cassia storms off and hides inside a confession booth. Was it something I said?
“That’s a whole lot of information I could have done without.” Jeremy says, narrowing his eyes.
I shrug. “The more you know.”
He shifts uncomfortably, his shoulders sagged. “So...you two...you’re really...?”
And his hopes and dreams shattered before his eyes, the possibility of sinking his micro-peen into the sweetest pussy I’ve ever had the pleasure of sticking disintegrates into thin air.
“Fucking? Oh yeah.”
“And she likes—”
Tsking, I clench my fists. “Think about your question and then ask yourself if it’s worth getting your ass kicked for.”
He glances around. “We’re in church...”
Slow clap. I should slow clap. “Not much gets by you, does it?”
Jeremy scowls and straightens his jacket and I’m bored already. I step around him and head for the confession box.
“For the record, I wasn’t trying to sleep with her.”
I laugh, peering over my shoulder. “Lying is a sin, Jeremy, and so is snorting cocaine. You know, since we’re already listing your fuckups.”
Worry etches over his young features for the briefest moment before he pinches his face into a scowl. Of all the parties I’ve seen him at, he hasn’t noticed me once so he has nothing to throw back on me.
“You’re an asshole.”
I simper. “So I’ve been told.”
Jeremy walks away, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his jacket. He’s not the worst guy, but he sure as shit ain’t good enough for Cassia.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Cassia sighs as I slip into the confession booth beside her. Her sweet perfume—vanilla today—swirls around me, lulling me into a sense of security.
It’s quiet in here and warm, its close walls providing a feeling of comfort.
“I’m mad at you.” Cassia growls from the other side over the divider. I slide open the small, wooden door and peer through the dark, cane grating. I can barely see her which is fucking depressing.
“You’re mad? I was doing you a favor.”
“Doing me a favor?” She hits the wall and it vibrates up my arm. “I was having a casual conversation.”
“With Jeremy Minesota.”
“So? You don’t get to decide who I can and can’t talk to.” She leans in close and in the dim light, I see the hollow of her throat and the gloss on her lips. “And even if I decided to bang Jeremy Minesota—which I wouldn’t—that’s none of your business. Your cock isn’t the be-all end-all of cocks, Caleb.”
Jesus. I’m so fucking hard. “Say that again.”
“What?”
I stroke the lattice with my index finger. I want to touch her mouth. “I love the shape of your lips when you say that word.”
Her lips part as she lets out a shaky exhale. “You have to go. I don’t want to be seen with you.”
Impatience dances with frustration inside me and I clench my jaw. Oh, this girl is driving me insane.
“I want to be with you, Cassia. Who the fuck cares what anyone else thinks?”
“You want to be with me? For real?” She snorts. “Are you feeling okay?”
“No. No I’m not feeling okay.” I rake my fingers through my hair. “There’s a swirling in my stomach that won’t stop and a thumping in my chest that prevents me from sleeping. I don’t know what it is, but I know it’s linked directly to you. When you’re not with me, my palms sweat and my brain scrambles. I feel needy and tired, and…I just want you.”
Who would have thought I’d be the one begging her for a relationship? That’s not how this usually goes.
“I sent you a text yesterday.”
“Fuck your text. I deleted it. What are you so afraid of? Hm? Failing your parents? Here’s a newsflash for you, Cass, they’re the ones who failed you. I mean, look at you. Look at your life. What nineteen year old lives in a cage?”
Her slender fingers grip the lattice and she pulls herself closer until her face is an inch from mine. “Oh, I’m the weird one? You are so worried about hurting your father you completely hide yourself, molding into the good boy he wants you to be. You’re not good. You’re depraved, you’re sadistic, and you’re unstable.”
Ha!
“You don’t think I fucking know that? But since we’re rubbing salt in each other’s wounds here’s a few more traits you can use against me. I’m selfish, spoiled, angry, and unreliable. I’m arrogant, stubborn, and masochistic too, but unfortunately for you, you are the one I want.”
The burning anger in my chest fades away. Is this all a waste of time? She truly doesn’t want to be with me? Is the connection I thought we built only one-sided? Maybe I misinterpreted her…this whole time I thought she’d helplessly fall for me, but as it turns out, I’m the idiot who has fallen for her.
“I thought that maybe you like me enough to take a risk and do something for yourself for a change. Your parents are sucking the life out of you. If that’s worth more than what I’m offering you, fine, but don’t come crying to me when you realize what they want is unachievable and you’ve wasted a good portion of your life chasing an invisible accolade. You want to live like a nun, be my guest, but I’m done trying to convince you that what we’re doing is normal.”
Letting go of the lattice, she settles back into the seat, disappearing into the dark. I wait for a response or a curse word—something, ANYTHING—that clues me in on what she’s thinking. All I get in return is a muffled sob and it punches me in the gut.
“You’re crying?”
I don’t want to make her cry, I just want her to understand that I’m willing to toss it all up in the air for her and wait for the dust to settle.
I’m in panic mode. Why? Because I haven’t cut myself in a while and now the only thing I have that stops me from doing that doesn’t wa
nt to see me anymore. My ribcage vibrates in my chest and threatens to tear it open.
I can’t be here.
I can’t be in here with her—with her crying and her sweet scent. It’s driving me mad.
I kick open the door and step out into the bright light. Everyone is settled in their seats, none of them aware that my feelings are being crushed underneath the heel of a dainty foot. To go from feeling nothing…to feeling everything...and then have someone try and stuff it all back into a suitcase that’s much too small is agony. Eleven years of torment unleashed with no one to keep it in check.
“Fuck!” I shout at the top of my lungs, raking my fingers through my hair.
Everyone whips around and gapes at me in horror. Screw all of them! What have they done for me? My sanity unravels rapidly and my blood rushes, filling me with misplaced adrenaline. I spot Marcus and Linda and their shocked expressions in the middle of the room. I clench my fists and storm across the floor to the door. To attack them in front of everyone else will only make things worse.
I slip outside in need of fresh air, but it doesn’t help. I pace back and forth while Dad addresses the church, palming my outcry off as an ‘overwhelming time of the year’ due to the deaths of Penelope and Mom. Maybe it is. Maybe it’s the reason I’m feeling so erratic. Hell, maybe it’s the reason I’m clinging so desperately to Cassia.
I don’t know, but what I do know is, it fucking sucks. I’d take feeling numb over this any day. At least when I was numb, I had control over my own body.
I stroll away from the door as my father begins his sermon and drop my ass against a wooden bench. Funny enough, it’s the same wooden bench Cassia was sitting on when I first spoke to her. She was absolutely killing it in that blue dress.
I rest my elbows on my thighs and lean forward, dropping my face into my hands. Today is not a good day.
“You have some nerve, young man.”
I whip my head up only to meet Agnus in a salmon maxi dress and matching coat. She clenches her cane and hobbles over to me.
“Swearing in the Lord’s house like that—and on a Sunday no less.”
As she nears, I stand up and offer my hand. She takes it and I ease her onto the bench. I should have known she’d come after me.
I exhale and sit down beside her. I don’t know what to say. Talking is the last thing I want to do.
I roll my shoulders. “Sorry.”
“Your father said—”
“I heard what he said.” I cut in, earning a tight pout from Agnus. “He has no idea what he’s talking about.”
She makes a tight, thoughtful noise in her throat, planting a second hand on the curve of her walking cane. “Girl trouble?”
I shrug. “Of a different kind.”
“Finally got bitten by the love bug, eh?”
I flinch and push myself to my feet. The love bug? Let’s not make mountains out of molehills. I bend low and scoop up a flat stone. I turn it in my hands, rubbing the smooth edges along my index finger. I’m not in love…I’ve fallen, but I haven’t hit anything yet. If anything, I’m still in freefall mode, waiting for Cassia to meet me at the bottom at least.
“I’m not in love.” I cock my arm back and toss the rock over the parking lot and into the trees. “We’ve been fooling around less than a month.”
“It’s not impossible…my late husband and I fell in love in the span of one dinner and we were married within two weeks.”
I face her. “And how long did that last?”
Her thin, textured lips tug at the corners. “Almost sixty years.”
“Not too shabby.” I say, smiling.
A sixty year marriage. Fancy that…
Agnus chuckles. “No, it’s not. These days, they say love knows no bounds, but then criticize those who dive in too early. The stigma surrounding love in today’s society takes the fun out of the experience and that’s all it is, Caleb. An experience. It’s okay to be in love for a minute, an hour, a day, and even a year because being in love isn’t the point. The point is the happenstance of it happening in the first place. Love is timeless and it can be as short lived as it is everlasting. You can fall in love once, or a million times and each time is just as elating and as beautiful as the previous. I’ve loved three men in my life and I had wonderful experiences with all of them, no matter how brief. You’d be a fool to let it go.”
I rake my teeth against my bottom lip and kiss my teeth. “She doesn’t feel the same as me. She’s held back by family judgement.”
“Ack.” Agnus spits, flicking her hand at me. “Family judgement? There’s no such thing. My parents hated my husband and you know what he said? He said; if they judge you, they’re not your family. She should know that.”
I sigh and inhale. Inch by inch, the frustration I felt drains out through my feet. I wish Agnus could go in and talk to Cassia. Agnus makes sense. She’s old and wise as hell, there’s no way Cassia wouldn’t take anything she says to heart.
Agnus coughs, pulling me from my thoughts. My lungs burn with the air I didn’t exhale and I rush it out quickly as Agnus pushes on her cane and lifts herself to her feet.
“Come on.” She says, holding out her hand.
I bend my arm at the elbow and she wraps her fingers around it, shuffling uncomfortably.
“I’m not going back in there.”
“They understand, Caleb.” She clears her throat. “You’re not missing Sunday Mass over a girl. God deserves your undivided attention.”
Uncertainty twists my stomach, but I walk her back inside anyway. If I don’t, I’ll never hear the end of it. No one notices us slip into the church and take our seat on the very back pew. My father does, but he barely makes eye contact. A white movement to my left pulls my attention and I turn my head to see Cassia slipping down the side of the church, moving toward her parents. She keeps her head ducked, her face shielded by her hair.
My heart does that stupid fluttery thing and I cringe. What am I going to do?
“I take it that’s the girl?” Agnus asks, leaning in.
I pat her hand, the one that’s still around my elbow and nod.
“That’s the one.”
Agnus and I watch Cassia as she perches on the end of a bench. Tucking her hair behind her ear, Cassia flicks her sights over her shoulder and locks me in her stare. I’ve never been good at reading expressions so Cassia either feels sorry for me or she’s still pissed I destroyed the budding conversation between her and Jeremy. Admittedly, I did make a dick of myself, but that’s how it is. It’s who I am.
“She’s beautiful.” Agnus whispers, nudging me in the ribs.
That’s the fucking understatement of the century. Bile rises and burns at my throat. Agnus is right. She is beautiful, but she’s also funny and smart. She has a big heart too.
“Yeah. She is.”
* * * *
Agnus dozes off during the sermon and her head end up against my shoulder. I can’t help, but chuckle every time she snores. I’ve witnessed her pass out a few times, not that she’ll ever admit it, and it never gets old. She’s a sweet old lady…
When the time for the closing prayers comes, I expect Dad to call on me. Thankfully, he saves me the humiliation by selecting someone else—someone I never expected.
Cassia.
I glance up at the ceiling. How convenient. It’s not enough that she doesn’t want me in return, but now I gotta look at her too?
Swallowing her obvious discomfort, she reads the prayer flawlessly, but she doesn’t look happy. This isn’t the life she wants—the parents, the church—but she puts up with it anyway. I peer over at Marcus and even though I can only the see the side of his face, his pride and his happiness is obvious. Beside him, Linda clasps her hands at her chest, ever the proud mother. It’s almost sickening to watch them beam at her.
“Amen.” Cassia says, closing her Bible.
“Amen.” We say, our voices a deep murmur.
Agnus jolts awake and I roll my eyes as she
straightens her posture and makes a comment on the way Cassia delivered the prayer.
“She’s did wonderfully.”
I chuckle. “Yeah.”
Clenching her Bible, the one with the black leather and gold pages, Cassia steps down. Her big, blue gaze flickers to me and sympathy flashes across her features. Painful tendrils of anxiety burrow through my chest.
Sympathy.
I drop my stare to my shoes.
Yep.
Being numb is definitely better than this.
I am in love.
Maybe.
At least, I’m pretty sure I am. I mean, I googled it and it told me that when you feel it, you really feel it. I don’t know what that means, but if it’s talking about a heavy punch to the gut that doesn’t go away then…yeah. I’m in love.
But I’m also in fear. If that makes any sense.
Since the morning I was humiliated by my parents in Bismarck, I’ve spent a good portion of my time building walls and protecting myself from further embarrassment. It’s no secret that Mom and Dad go out of their way to hurt my feelings and put me down constantly, but I’ve somewhat built up a tolerance to it. Their disdain is something I expect now. A normality I’ve grown accustom to.
They’re the reason I’ve distanced myself from a relationship with Caleb. I came up with excuses instead of facing the reality. I don’t want to date Caleb because I’m jealous of him—jealous of the way he lives his life. No one is watching him like a hawk, waiting for him to screw up. He drives his own car, has his own phone, and socializes at parties. I can’t date him because my parents hold him above me. They’ve put him on the very same pretty pedestal I fell from. He is the good, incorruptible Caleb and I’m the slut daughter who apparently stuffs cock into every hole the second she gets the chance.
It’s bad.
It’s so bad Mom doesn’t let me help her peel the penis shaped vegetables. I offer to peel the zucchini and she hands me a round potato with a suspicious glint in her eye. Messed up, right?
You know the saying no man is good enough for your daughter? Well, according to my parents, I’m not good enough for Caleb. He is the son of Father Andrews and will go on to be an important figure of the faith. Meanwhile, it’s assumed I’ll be whoring it out in a dirty back alley somewhere, spreading nothing but herpes.
