Lust Is the Thorn

by Jen McLaughlin

  “No. I mean…get out. Leave.”

  “I”—he froze, spatula in his hand. “What?”

  “I need you to go.” I hugged myself with my good arm. “Please.”

  He set the spatula down slowly, his gaze locked on me. “Why? What did I do wrong?”

  “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

  Tipping his head to the side, he shrugged and picked the spatula back up, flipping a pancake. “Then I fail to see the issue.”

  I let out a small laugh, even though I didn’t feel like laughing at all. “You never do anything wrong, so that’s the problem. You’re just there, being nice and making me need you, and I don’t want that. Don’t want to need you.”

  “But”—he gawked at me as if I had sprouted a second head. “I’m just trying to be nice. To take care of you.”

  “Until you take your vows, and maybe leave.”

  He rubbed his jaw. “We don’t even know that I’ll be sent to that parish. It was just a possibility that Father John mentioned. And if I am, then part of being a priest is traveling to parishes in need. If they send me away, then I’ll go. I won’t want to go. But I’ll have to go. It’ll be my job.”

  “I know that.” I gripped my arm tighter. “You don’t get it. I’m not complaining that you’re leaving. I’m not mad at you. I’m thrilled.”

  Blinking, he scratched the back of his neck, looking faintly annoyed. “Then what’s the issue? Clearly, you won’t miss me if I go.”

  “I never said I wouldn’t miss you. I just said I was happy you were fulfilling your dreams.” I lowered my lids, shutting him out. “But if you leave, I’ll miss you almost as much as I miss Mikey. Maybe more.”

  I heard the spatula hit the countertop. “I can still come back to visit. And we can text. It’s not like I’ll be dead. I’ll just be an hour or two away.”

  “I know. And I want to keep in touch. I do.” I bit my lip, pressing my tongue against my piercing. “But for that to be enough for me, you need to stop. Stop being here. Stop worrying. Stop holding me. Stop looking at me like I’m your world, even though I’m not, because you’re promising yourself to a life I can’t be in. So just…stop.”

  He staggered backward a step like I was ripping his heart out, and maybe I was. But he was destroying mine, too. “I can’t stop caring about you, Rose. You’re the only family I have left.”

  “Then care like you used to. From a distance. Like it’ll be once you take your vows—which you need to do, like, yesterday, by the way.” I took a step closer, but kept a few feet between us. “I can’t be around you like this constantly, and not miss you when you leave. I can’t sleep next to you, and not want to touch you. I can’t have you here, fixing everything, and not need you. I can’t hold you closer, and let you go once you take your vows, and not have it rip me apart. So…you have to go. For me. Please.”

  He picked up the spatula again, clinging to it as if it would stop this conversation, or even the fact that I had to let him go. Finally, he set it down and came up to me, stopping once our toes touched. When he reached out and cupped my face, I flinched as if he’d struck me. It felt like he had. “But I don’t want to go. I don’t want to leave you.”

  The emotion in his voice, the pain, shredded me into a million tiny, sharp, jagged pieces. I gripped his wrists. “I don’t want you to go, either.”

  “Then don’t make me,” he said, locking eyes with me.

  He was looking at me like if I sent him away, he’d die. And I almost agreed with him, to spare him that pain. But he wouldn’t die. He’d be fine. We both would. No one dies from a broken heart—just their actions afterward. “Remember that time I fell off my bike and got my ankle stuck in the wheel spokes?”

  At his curt nod, I continued.

  “I was scared to pull it out because it hurt so much, but Mikey told me if I pulled it out, the worst of the pain would be over, and I could heal.”

  His nostrils flared. “I’m the spokes?”

  “Yeah.” I swallowed past my aching throat. “You’re the spokes.”

  Nodding, he flexed his fingers on me, almost letting go, but not quite. “I’m sorry. I never wanted…I didn’t want to hurt you. Never that.”

  “I know.” I leaned up on tiptoe and kissed his jaw, keeping it short and sweet. Or that was my intention, anyway. But of their own accord, my lips lingered, and he gripped my shirt at the small of my back, pulling me closer. “But you didn’t hurt me. You made me happy. So fucking happy. The thing about happiness, though, is that it’s a fleeting bastard. It never stays in one place for long, especially not in people like us. We both know that firsthand.”

  He curled his fingers behind my neck and hauled me against his chest, hugging me close. “Yeah. We do, don’t we?” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “So you want me to go, and stop showing up at all, right?”

  “Y-yes.” I breathed in his scent one last time, clasping his shirt. “Go take your vows. You’ve worked for this for almost eight years. It’s time to reap the rewards. Go to your parish, and wear your vestments with pride. It’s what you were made to do. What you want, more than anything else in the world.”

  He didn’t respond to that, but let me go. Heading for the door, he picked up his black jacket and shrugged into it. Foot on the first step, he paused and studied the living room one last time. “You’re going to do great things here, Rose. I still believe that, and always will.”

  “Yeah.” I forced a smile and nodded, pressing a hand to my chest where I had a hollow ache that I suspected might never go away. “Sure.”

  He hesitated. “Promise me something?”

  “Anything,” I said quickly.

  “Don’t miss me. Don’t think about me fondly. Don’t even dream about me. Instead? Smile. Laugh. Live. Fall in love. Be happy.” He held on to the banister tightly, white knuckles showing. “Get married to an amazing guy. Have kids. Grab that fickle bitch that’s called happiness, and never let her go. You deserve that. I need you to have that.”

  “But—” I want you, not some other guy. I pressed my balled fist against my chest even harder, but it didn’t take away the pain. Blinking away the stinging blurriness, I bit my lip and nodded. “Yeah. Okay. I promise all those things, as long as you promise to take your vows and be happy with your life you’ve chosen.”

  Nodding, he started down the stairs, but stopped again.

  Cursing under his breath, he walked back up the stairs and stalked across the room toward me. Face torn with emotion, he wrapped his hand behind my neck and hauled me into his arms, closing his mouth over mine in a perfect kiss that would never stop haunting my dreams, no matter what I’d promised him. Whimpering, I clung to him, holding on to him as if I were never letting him go, even though I already had.

  His lips moved over mine, and his tongue slid inside, tasting every inch of my mouth he could. Knowing this was our last kiss, and that he was going to walk away from me after this, as I’d requested, made it even more bittersweet. Even more agonizing.

  Images played out in front of me. The way he’d always smiled at me as he climbed through my window, his expression shining with mischief. Him watching over me protectively as I went out with boys who were nothing but trouble, and holding me after they inevitably hurt me. The nights he’d sat on the couch reading a book, with me sitting next to him doing the same. Him washing me in the bath, trying his best to act as if he didn’t want me, when we’d both known he did. The way he’d laughed by the fire before immediately turning the conversation serious, like he wasn’t allowed to be happy anymore. The look he’d given me as he told me he didn’t regret me, and never would.

  I didn’t know how to go from being around someone my whole life and knowing I could count on him, to just saying goodbye. To giving the man I loved his last kiss and knowing that once it was over…that I was over, too.

  That it was all over.

  He broke off the kiss, but kept his lips pressed to mine for another second. “Goodbye, Rose.�
��

  I nodded, tightening my grip on him reflexively before letting go. “Goodbye, Thorn.”

  He let go of me. Dragging his hands down his face, he spun on his heel and descended the stairs without another word. The second the door closed behind him, I sagged against the wall and banged my head on it.

  Once. Twice. Three times for good measure.

  It hurt, but not enough to distract me from the pain radiating from my chest to my whole body. It was the pain of losing Thorn. Covering my face, I shook my head and took a deep breath, trying to steady my nerves and emotions, but they were all over the damn place. Losing Thorn wasn’t something I could just shake off or ignore. He’d been the man I loved for years, and nothing would ever change that, or make it stop.

  Something sizzled in the pan, reminding me that he’d been cooking, so I hurried over and shut it off, taking out the pancakes. They were perfectly round, of course.

  Everything Thorn did was perfect.

  I wished it could irritate me, or make me hate him even a little bit. But I didn’t hate him. I loved him. And that made everything soooooo much worse. I blinked down at the perfect pancakes, reliving how happy he’d been when I’d come out of my bedroom. He’d smiled at me, eyes bright, and seemed so proud of himself for all he’d done. He was so kind, so generous, so loving. In another life, or another world, or if we were different people, maybe we could have been happy together.

  My throat thickened and my eyes burned, and for the first time in forever, I didn’t fight it. Sinking to the floor, I wrapped my arms around my legs and buried my face in my knees, choking on a sob. For the first time in forever, I didn’t hold it back, or distract myself from the pain that was ripping through my heart and lungs and head.

  For the first time in forever…

  I let myself cry.

  Chapter 15

  Thorn

  It had been three weeks since I’d walked out of Rose’s apartment, out of her life, and we hadn’t spoken since. Even though she’d made it quite clear that she needed me to go away, to take my vows and live my life, I hadn’t done so yet. When I’d gone to Father John and confessed to kissing her again, he’d made me take a month to think about whether or not I truly wanted to become a priest. Part of me had expected him to kick me out of the program, to point out I clearly wasn’t made for this life.

  Instead, he’d told me to think about it.

  And then he’d removed me from Saint Paul’s.

  So, literally, all I’d been doing for three weeks was thinking. And thinking. And thinking some more. And yet? I’d gotten no answers. No burst of insight that told me I was ready to take those vows. I wanted to be a priest. I did. But something was holding me back.

  And that something was Rose.

  When she’d asked me to leave, I’d felt pain the likes which I hadn’t felt since I’d lost Mikey. But at the same time, I knew she was right. The way we’d been leaning on each other, and the time we’d spent together, had been inappropriate for my lifestyle.

  Hence my time-out from Father John.

  Once I’d gone to confession and cleared my conscience, I was even able to admit that leaving her was for the better, like she’d said, and I fully expected distance to help me forget about her, and what we’d done, and what I wanted. Like she said.

  But I’d been wrong.

  Nothing made me forget, and nothing made this easier, and that’s what made the fact that she was moving on without me even harder. The few times I’d seen her had been at a distance, but she seemed happy. Light. Free. As if she had already moved on without me and was fulfilling her promises to be happy. Which was good. Great. Fantastic.

  Because I wanted her to be happy.

  I did.

  But I wanted me to be happy, too. And it wasn’t working. Nothing was. I was starting to think nothing ever would. Even if I became a priest, and fulfilled my dreams, and took care of Rose from a distance, like Mikey would have wanted, I would still feel a void inside of me where Rose should have been. Where she was still supposed to be. And I didn’t know what to do with that.

  Organ music played, and I shook myself out of my thoughts. I’d attended the late-afternoon mass, hoping it would clear my head of thoughts of Rose, and instead it had implanted them even more firmly. Instead of focusing on the Holy Spirit and God, I’d focused on what I couldn’t have. What I shouldn’t want.

  Rose Gallagher.

  Lines formed for the procession out of the church and I stood solemnly, nodding to a classmate who sat across from me in the wooden pews. He was as pale as I was tan, and his blondness was in stark contrast to my almost black hair. But even so, he looked just as lost as I was. We were the last two men in our class. The only ones who hadn’t taken our vows yet. It made me wonder if he’d been put in a time-out for the same reason I had. And if he regretted being put there, because I didn’t.

  I couldn’t regret Rose.

  He walked up to me, shrugging into his jacket as he approached. “Hey. How’s it going, Thorn?”

  “Great.” I tugged on my clerical collar and smiled. “Looks like you had the same idea as me. Looking for guidance in the place where it’s supposed to be easiest to find it.”

  “Yeah, pretty much.” Robert rubbed his jaw and eyed me over his fingers. “Did it work for you?”

  Well, if God was trying to tell me I belonged with Rose, then yeah, it worked. But if the message was supposed to be to stay the course and not give up…“Nope. You?”

  “Yeah. I think I know my choice now.” He let out a sigh of relief, and it was like the weight of the world came off him right in front of me. “I’m ready.”

  “That’s great,” I said with forced cheerfulness, clapping him on the back. “Drinks later in McGarrey’s to celebrate?”

  “Sure,” Robert said, grinning even wider. “I’d love that.”

  He walked off, his steps lighter.

  Despite my happiness for him, I envied him. He was so sure, and he’d gotten the answer he sought, while all I got was more uncertainty. Checking the time, I headed outside and made my way over to the admissions office, stopping far enough away that I wouldn’t be seen. I wanted to see for myself how she was doing. From a distance, of course.

  Without her knowing.

  I just needed to see her for a second, even if she’d never know. Watch her smile light up her face. Maybe hear her voice as she spoke to someone she hadn’t asked to leave her alone. If I really lucked out, she’d bless me with her musical laughter. As if on cue, she walked out of her office with a coworker at her side—a male one.

  She wore a gray wool coat, a knit gray hat, and a pair of black slacks. She laughed at something he said, loud and clear, and he puffed out his chest with pride in response. As she tucked her hair behind her ear, she peeked up at him through her lashes. I was close enough to hear her say, “You’re too much.”

  “It’s true.” The man rested a hand on her shoulder, squeezing. She glanced down at it, but didn’t pull free. “You’re performing wonderfully.”

  “Thanks. It means a lot to hear that.”

  “Good,” the man said, letting her go. He stepped back and smoothed his hand over his slim stomach, clearing his throat. He was clearly gathering up the nerve to say something, and I was 99 percent certain I wasn’t going to like whatever it was. “Can I ask you a question?”

  “Sure,” she said, shoving her purse strap past her shoulder more firmly as she smiled fleetingly at him. “What’s up?”

  “Do you like music?” the man blurted out.

  She laughed a little. “Well, yeah. Of course. Do you?”

  “I mean, like, musicals? Because I have tickets to see a show tonight, and my friend canceled last minute, and I was hoping…”

  He didn’t finish, so Rose took pity on him. “I’d go?”

  “Y-yes,” the man said, his cheeks red. “Would you like to? Go? With me?”

  “Uhh…” It was almost painful to watch. This guy wasn’t her type, and we
both knew it. She went for tattooed men who broke hearts left and right and would never want to settle down. But she smiled and I froze, unable to believe what I was seeing. “What time?”

  Wait. What?

  “I could pick you up at six-thirty,” the man said in a rush.

  “That sounds like fun.” She patted his arm. “I can’t wait.”

  The man brightened. “Great! See you then! Want me to walk you to the L? Or give you a ride home?”

  She smiled again. “No, I’m good on my own, thanks.” The man left, and she watched him go, still smiling. She seemed…happy. It wasn’t fair. Smile fading, she turned my way—and, of course, saw me immediately. “Thorn?”

  I stiffened, wishing I hadn’t come by after all, and stepped forward, shoving my hands into my pockets. I’d let myself become so distracted by her reaction to the man that I’d forgotten to actually, you know, leave. So I blurted out the first thing that came to mind. “You took your lip ring out.”

  She touched her mouth. “Yeah. It seemed a little too risqué for a seminary office, you know? Besides, that was from the old me. I didn’t want it anymore. I’m trying to fit in with the rest of the office. Be a little more boring, and all that.”

  She could never be boring. I frowned at the spot where it had been, missing it already. “Are you keeping the nose stud?” Say yes. Please say yes.

  “For now.” She shrugged. “We’ll see how it goes.”

  “You don’t have to change for them, they like you the way you are.” So do I.

  “I’ve heard great things about you.”

  “Really?”

  Nodding, I glared at her date as he walked away. “He seems…nice.”

  “Yeah. That’s because he is.” She hugged herself and came closer to me, her hair blowing into her face. “He’s a perfect gentleman. Brings me Starbucks every day even though I never ask for it.”

  I choked on words that wanted to escape but weren’t allowed, and forced a grin. “That’s great. I’m happy to hear that. So happy.”

  “Yeah…” She tossed her hair over her shoulder with a flick of her neck. “What are you doing here?”