Lust Is the Thorn

by Jen McLaughlin

  He rolled over again, covering my body with his, not commenting on my silence. “You have no idea how freeing it is to say that out loud. To admit it to myself, and you, and anyone else who cares. I love you, and nothing will make me stop. Ever. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Cherishing you. Holding you. Protecting you”—he let out a small laugh—“even though you don’t need it. I know you don’t. Don’t kill me for saying this, but that doesn’t stop me from wanting to do it anyway. You make me happy, Rose. I never thought I’d be happy again. Not after Mikey. But I am. Because of you.”

  “But—?” My throat swelled, choking off my words. My heart sped up, because if he was saying what I thought he was saying…I’d done it. I’d taken him away from the life he’d worked so hard for. I’d ripped it out of his hands. “You have to take your vows. Be a priest. Save souls.”

  “Ha-ha.” He nuzzled my neck. “You’re so funny.”

  I pressed my lips together, the cracks of my heart piercing my chest and lungs till it was almost impossible to breathe. I pressed my tongue against my lip, where my lip ring had been. “Who said I was kidding?”

  “Me.” He kissed me again, his lips lingering. “You love me, and I love you, and I’m not going anywhere. We’re going to grow old together. Make babies. Get married. Honor and cherish each other till the day we die. That’s what I want—not the church. I’ll find another way to save people who are like I used to be. As long as I have you.”

  The reality of what we’d done, of what it had meant to him, hit me like a bucket of ice water over the head. This wasn’t what he was supposed to do. It wasn’t what he’d been made for. Wasn’t who he was.

  He wanted to spend the rest of his life loving me?

  That wasn’t big enough.

  I was nothing. No one. I was a hood rat, and always would be. But him…he was more. Always had been. He needed to fulfill all those dreams he’d told me about. See Rome. Meet the pope. Shake hands with the president. All those wondrous things he’d planned on doing…

  He just wanted to forget about them.

  For me.

  Chapter 17

  Thorn

  When her body stiffened under mine, I knew I’d said something wrong. Most of the time, I did. I’m a guy, and we are genetically inclined to be idiots. It’s in our DNA. But this time, I wasn’t sure what I’d done. I’d told her I loved her. I’d never once uttered those three little words in my life. They’d felt stilted on my tongue, almost as if they were sticking. I’d realized why I’d never taken my vows. As much as I loved Mikey, and as much as I had thought joining the priesthood was the right path for me…

  I loved her more.

  And I wanted to spend the rest of my life loving her. Cherishing her. Holding her. And now she was acting like I’d told her something horrible and ugly, instead of something that I’d hoped would make her even a small fraction of how happy she made me. Pulling back, I frowned down at her. “What’s wrong? Why are you so tense?”

  She pushed my shoulders and slipped out from underneath me. I let her. She stumbled to her feet, still wearing the red dress she’d put on for her date. The dress I’d told her to wear. “You want to be a priest. You want to save people. All this time—”

  I sat up and ran my hands down my face. “But I don’t. Not anymore.”

  “Because of me. Because of what I did.” She tucked her hair behind her ears, her fingers shaking so badly she almost missed. “No. I won’t allow it. You need to take your vows. You can’t just stay here, with me. You deserve more. You deserve better.”

  “There is nothing better than this.” I stood up and clasped her hand, pressing it to my chest, right over my heart. “Than us. I need to be with you. I can’t be a priest. Not when you own my heart and soul. It wouldn’t be fair.”

  She shook her head. “No. You’ve worked too hard for this to give up now. I refuse to sit by when you walk away from a life you’ve fought to have for eight years. Eight. Fucking. Years.”

  “You mean the life I’ve tried to fit into for eight years?” I snapped, dragging a hand through my hair.

  She growled low in her throat and shoved my shoulders, her cheeks flushed and her eyes glinting. I fell back onto the mattress because she’d caught me off-guard. “Stop it. Stop it right now. Get out. Take your vows. Forget about me. If I ever see you hanging around here again, I’ll punch you in the nuts. I mean it.”

  “Why aren’t you listening to me?” I stood and tried to take a deep, calming breath, but it didn’t work. Nothing would. “I don’t want to take my damn vows.”

  Her face was pale, and she was probably two seconds from running for the door. All because I had said I loved her. I tried not to let that hurt, but it did. “Yes. You do want to take your vows. You have to.”

  “No. I don’t.” I reached for her, but she leapt out of the way. That angered me more than her refusal to listen to me. I’d just told her I loved her and wanted to be with her, and she acted like I had the plague. “I don’t even want to be a priest. I only wanted to be one because I killed Mikey.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Oh, here we go again with the trip down martyr lane. Tell me. Does this ever get old for you?”

  A hard laugh escaped me. “No. Not when I was the one who was driving the car.” I fisted my hands, the words flying out of me before I even had a chance to realize what I was doing. “I drove the car that night. Me. Not him. Me.” I froze the second I fully realized what I’d said, and how I’d said it. “Shit.”

  She backed up a step, eyes wide, and face pale. “Wh-what?”

  “Rose…” My heart halted along with every other muscle in my body, and I just stared at her. Panic rose in my chest and I swallowed hard, trying to make the words come out. When they did come out, it wasn’t what I’d planned to say—but it was the God’s honest truth. And she deserved that. “I killed Mikey.”

  “What?” Slowly her angry expression changed to confusion, followed by fear, followed by the beginnings of pain. Pain I’d caused her. “Thorn? Why are you…? Are you saying…? What are you saying?”

  I swallowed again, digging my nails into my palms. “I was the one driving that night when we crashed.”

  She staggered backward, looking at me with wide, tear-filled eyes. “What? Why?”

  “We were drunk. So drunk. And high. We got in the car, because we were young and stupid, and he was behind the wheel. When we got to the light at Jasper and Birch, he fell asleep. Literally. Passed out. So I helped him get in the passenger seat and told him to buckle up. I didn’t hear the click, but I checked and it looked like—” I broke off, digging my fingers into my palms. “I thought he buckled up. I thought it latched.”

  Shaking her head, she raised a trembling hand to her mouth, covering it. “It was you? You…you…why?”

  “Yes.” I dropped my hands to my sides, my heart falling to my stomach because she was looking at me with a mixture of fear, anger, and betrayal. “I was driving to the parking lot at Food Lion to let both of us sleep it off. It was only two blocks away.”

  A tear escaped her eye and rolled down her hand, falling to the floor. “And then?”

  “It all happened so fast. I hit a patch of ice, and I spun out of control. There was screeching tires, blood, pain, and broken glass….” I gritted my teeth together. “But there was no Mikey. I called his name, and he barely answered.”

  “Oh my God,” she whispered, shaking her head.

  “I’m sorry,” I whispered. “So sorry.”

  She shook her head again, backing away from me another step. “Why didn’t you tell the cops?”

  “I tried,” I whispered, staring down at my feet. The room blurred, my chest ached, and my throat throbbed. “I went to the station. I found the first cop in the South Side precinct I could and told him the truth. He knew me from dealing with my mom, and he’d grown up down the street from my dad, so he knew what kind of family I came from. Knew my fucked-up past. As I was telling him the truth, they
got a call about a man holding a family of four hostage. He cut me off angrily, told me to stop wasting his time and that it was over. That Chicago had enough people in prison who actually deserved to be there, not people with just a guilty conscience who’d made a bad judgment call, and that I needed to go home. Needed to shut up and move on with my life. To do better.”

  “So you went home,” she said, her voice empty. “You tried to do better.”

  “No.” I hesitated, because I didn’t want to admit this part. Not out loud. But she needed the truth—all of it. Even if it made her hate me like I’d hated myself. “I got high, took Mikey’s gun, and wrote a goodbye letter to you. Then I went to the church to pray for forgiveness and the strength to put a bullet in my head. To end it. To join Mikey.”

  Her cheeks flushed red, and she hauled back her fist and punched me in the chest, right over my heart. I staggered back, but didn’t lift a hand to defend myself. “Fuck you, asshole.” She pushed me again. “How dare you?” Another punch. “How dare—” Breaking off, she shook her head and sobbed, covering her mouth. “I hate you.”

  Those words shattered my heart, but in the end, they were exactly what I’d expected her to say. It was why I’d been so scared to tell her the truth. “I’m sorry—”

  “Get out.” She backed up, shaking her head, eyes full of pain. “Just get out.”

  And that, right there? That was exactly what I deserved. After years of trying to forgive myself for what I’d done, after years of spiritual counseling and hard work to get past the mistakes I’d made, and of trying to do right, I was back in that dark place.

  Where I belonged.

  “I’m sorry, Rose. So sorry.”

  She wrapped her arms around her stomach, tears rolling down her cheeks. “Yeah. I know. You said that. Tell me, were you sorry as you planned to leave me alone in this world? As you planned to break the one promise you’d made to your dying best friend? As you prepared to kill yourself like a coward?”

  I swallowed hard, trying to hold back the pain her words caused. She spoke the truth. But man, the truth hurt. “Yes. I was sorry. I still am. After I came out of the depressed abyss I was stuck in, Father John helped me realize something. The only thing that held me back, that stopped me from pulling that trigger, was knowing you’d be alone. So I chose life over death. I chose you. And I’ve been trying to make it up to you ever since. Trying to take care of you.”

  “I—” She broke off, pressing her lips together. “Go. Just go.”

  I swallowed. “I love you with all my heart and soul, body and mind. It’s all yours, and if I could go back in time and change everything—if I could make a better choice—I would. I’d pull over sooner, or check his seatbelt. I’d save Mikey in an instant, and—”

  “Can you?” she asked, her tone hard. “Can you go back in time?”

  I gritted my teeth. “No.”

  “Exactly.” She lifted her chin. “So stop trying.”

  “I don’t expect you to forgive me, or to ever care about me again.” I swallowed hard. “And I’m sorry I didn’t save him. So fucking sorry.”

  She didn’t say anything.

  Just covered her face and let out a sob.

  I wanted nothing more than to cross that room, pull her into my arms, and hug the pain away. Tell her it was going to be okay, and that the pain would fade, but it wouldn’t. It never had for me. And now that she knew I was a killer…she hated me.

  She had to.

  “Rose—” My voice cracked and I cut off. “I love you.”

  She didn’t say anything. Just turned her back and continued to sob. Swallowing hard, I gave her what she wanted. I walked out of the bedroom, through the living room, down the stairs, and out the door, closing it behind me. The second I walked outside, I doubled over from the pain in my chest and sucked in a deep breath. The world spun around me, becoming a haze, and I gripped my chest, breathing raggedly. Loving Rose, losing Rose, ripped me in half and tore me to shreds until there was nothing left but a million little pieces.

  Until I drowned in my guilt.

  “Son of a fucking bitch whore cocksucker.”

  “Thorn?” a familiar voice said from behind me. “Are you okay?”

  I froze, and carefully smoothed my face into an unfeeling mask before turning around. “Father John. What are you doing here?”

  “I came to visit an old friend, like I do every third Thursday of the month.” He smiled gently. “Are you all right? I heard you hit the campus pub pretty hard tonight.”

  I grabbed for my collar, only then realizing I’d left it behind in Rose’s apartment. How fitting. “Yeah, but that’s not why I came here. I’m not drunk anymore.”

  “I know.” Father John glanced up at the building. “You came here because you love her. Because you chose her.”

  I hesitated, but finally admitted what I known all along, deep down. “Yeah, that’s why I came here. To tell her that.”

  Father John nodded. “So you’ve made your choice?”

  “I made mine, yes.” I laughed maniacally and held my hands out to my sides as I stared up at the sky. Stars twinkled down on me, mocking me with their cheerfulness. “But she made hers, too. I finally told her the truth about that night.”

  Father John eyed me. “I take it that it didn’t go well?”

  “It went exactly how I’d figured it would. I knew she’d never forgive me. Knew she’d hate me. It’s why I vowed to be a priest, to absolve the guilt inside of me that eats me alive every day, as a way to atone for that guilt. To appease the pain of the knowledge that Mikey is dead because of me. Because of something I did.” I pounded my chest. “But I told her the truth anyway, because it was the right thing to do. And now she’s gone. We’re…it’s done. She hates me. I love her. She hates me.”

  “Oh, my son.” A sad smile slipped into place on Father John’s face, and he clapped me on the back. “Did you lose your hope, your faith, so quickly? She just found out something huge. Something horrible. But that doesn’t mean she can’t—won’t—forgive you. Or that she hates you.”

  “I don’t deserve forgiveness.” I clenched my jaw tight. “What I did isn’t forgivable.”

  “I don’t believe that.” He pulled his keys from his pocket. “People forgive. God forgives. It’s how he made us. The mind is a tricky thing, and things happen that are out of our control sometimes, and it’s human nature to understand that. To forgive.”

  “Not this time.” I shook my head. “I can’t move on, so why should she?”

  “Come on,” he said, tipping his head toward his car. “I’ll give you a ride back to campus, and we can talk this out. Figure out where to go next.”

  “I can’t be a priest.” I fell into step behind him. “I’ve been trying to be this person I’m not, for Mikey, but it’s not going to work. I can’t be something I’m not. I love her. She owns my heart, so I can’t give it to the church. I can’t give it to him.”

  “I would never force you to. You’ve made your choice, and I respect that.” He unlocked his car remotely and headed for the driver’s side. I got into the passenger seat. “We never encourage people to take vows if they don’t feel the calling. It’s not doing anyone any favors. Why do you think I kept telling you to think about it? To take time?”

  I stiffened. “You don’t think I could be a priest? That I’ve got what it takes?”

  “I think you’d be a fine priest.” He started the car and backed out of the spot. “I just don’t think it’s what you’re being called to do. I think your first calling is to Rose Gallagher. You love her. You’ve loved her for years.”

  I clicked my seatbelt into place. “Love is fleeting. It destroys people.”

  “That’s not true, and you know it.”

  I didn’t say anything to that as Father John pulled out of the parking lot and toward the road. “It doesn’t matter. It’s over.”

  “Would God want that for you? For her?” He glanced at me before turning his attention ba
ck to the road. “It would be sacrilegious to walk away from what is bonding the two of you together. Give her time to think. To accept your role in that night, and to come to terms with that.” He smiled. “But if you ask me, you’re meant to be in a different union than the priesthood. The kind that bonds a man and a wom—”

  Tires screeched, headlights shone in my face, blinding me, and the sound of metal hitting metal filled the air, tossing me into a black abyss. One that mixed the present and the past that had never stopped haunting me. Our car flew through the air as if it weighed nothing at all, rolling onto its side and screeching across the gravel with a sickening loudness. It settled in the grass as the other car rolled into oncoming traffic and collided with a truck.

  Pain exploded in my skull, blurring my vision, and I tried to blink away the haziness. Nothing happened. It wasn’t until I shook my head once that I realized I could still see Rose’s apartment. We hadn’t even made it out to the road before we’d been hit.

  Father John moaned beside me, rubbing his forehead. He was still in his seat. We were both alive. Thank God. “Father?” I glanced at him, trying to focus on his blurry face. “Are you alive?”

  “Yes,” he said, wincing. “I…I think so.”

  A laugh escaped me. I couldn’t help it.

  This whole situation, this whole déjà vu thing, was just too much.

  The irony was too much. Turning my head to the side, the laugh stalled in my throat when I saw someone approaching. A familiar form came toward me from the direction of Rose’s building, a form I hadn’t seen in almost eight years.

  One I couldn’t be seeing now.

  Licking my lips, I squinted. “Mikey?” I whispered.

  “What?” Father John asked, his tone faint. I could feel him watching me, and my pulse pounded harder. Faster. “Are you okay?”

  “You’re not here. You can’t be,” I whispered. “You’re dead.”

  “Thorn?” Father John said again, this time louder.

  I ignored him.