Possession

by Johnson, A. M.

  This door was just as heavy but made little noise, unaffected by the weather, it opened smoothly. The weight of it caused my arm to ache and, as the chapel was revealed to me, the honeyed scent of incense filled my nose. Each breath was difficult to take as my eyes searched the huge room. Pew after pew, my gaze lifted until it reached the altar. It was a massive sculpture of white marble, and just above it was a gruesome crucifix with a life-like version of Christ, blood spilling from his head, hands, feet, and side. I swallowed deeply at the mournful piece of art, and I was so transfixed by it I hadn’t noticed the man kneeling at the left side of the altar until he spoke.

  “Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name; thy kingdom come, thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven. Give us this day, our daily bread, and forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us; and lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil. Amen.”

  Declan’s voice was thick, as if he’d been crying, it seemed unsteady, and he kept his head down as he made the sign of the cross. He was kneeling in front of a table of candles, all lit and sparkling in the still air as if Declan’s breath brought the flames to life. He hadn’t heard me enter and he continued his penance as he began whispering again in prayer. This time, he prayed to the Virgin. He was wearing a black t-shirt and, as I inched closer, I could tell it stretched against his broad shoulders. I could see ink peeking up around the base of his neck just below his hairline. I wondered about what lay beneath the surface of the black cotton, what else he’d permanently inked into his flesh. I should have announced my presence, but as I grew closer, close enough I could smell his familiar scent of soap and citrus, my pulse thrummed so loudly I was sure it would be warning enough.

  Instead, I quietly moved next to him and kneeled down onto the cushioned support. He didn’t jump, but exhaled sharply as his head lifted just enough that he’d be able to see who was bold enough to kneel next to a man in an empty church while he prayed. Maybe he’d caught my scent too and had been prepared, either way we didn’t speak. Both of our heads were bowed in respect. Respect for our loss, our love, and our God, the one thing that could possibly save us.

  I licked my overly dry lips, my mouth was desiccated with nerves as I, too, began to pray. At first, I kept the comforting silence, but old habits die hard, and my words slipped easily from my lips in a beseeching whisper.

  “Heavenly Father, I am wounded, and saddened. I am weak and miserable. Without thee, I am lost. I have sinned, dear Lord, and I do not deserve thy grace, but I seek it…” Tears spilled from my eyes and dripped past my moving lips. “I seek it.” I was desperate. “Heavenly Father, I seek thy forgiveness, I seek the forgiveness of thee, and of the one I love, the one I have wronged,” I mumbled the words over and over, and I didn’t even realize it, but I’d begun to gently sway back and forth.

  I kept my eyes clamped shut. I let the smoky scent of the candles, the incense… Declan… fill my lungs with each insecure breath. I prayed and prayed, this time in my head, the words repeated until I felt numb, until the sensation in my legs vanished and it was only when I dropped my hands to my sides, my head still down, that I felt him. His hand was at his side too, and my fingers brushed his as I’d lowered mine. Heat billowed up my arm when he didn’t pull away. I felt his thumb trace along mine, and my heart pumped furiously and disjointedly as I wagered in my head if I should take his hand in mine. I didn’t need to make the choice and, as Declan laced his fingers through my own, I exhaled a shuddered sob.

  This was what home felt like, and a blanket of peace, weighted with his touch, covered me. There were no more prayers, just a mute calm. He squeezed my hand gently and I raised my head, our eyes searching each other’s. His crystal blue irises were rimmed in red, and his cheeks were stained with earlier shed tears. His full lips parted as if he were about to speak, but instead, he raised his free hand and cupped my wet cheek. I didn’t dare close my eyes and miss a second of this. I kept them wide open as I leaned into the heat of his palm. I wanted to tell him I was sorry. He needed to know that I’d left it all behind, left the life I thought I needed to live to be saved. To save him.

  I wanted to tell him I wished we would’ve kept the baby, gotten married, and lived in his tiny room with its shabby walls and brown carpet. At least it would’ve been love, at least I would’ve had the one person who always loved me for me. But, there was no reason to wish for a time that could never be, and the way he watched me now, with a tinge of terror, I had no idea where we could even begin.

  He leaned in and my heart fell into my stomach. The room around me ceased to exist as the warmth of his breath played at my lips. He watched me as he slowly inched forward and, when I didn’t move, his eyes closed. He kissed me so lightly, like I was made up of the fine marble of the altar. I was eighteen again and he was slipping through my fingertips. Our lips moved together in a last dance, a last chance at remembering before his mouth dusted a whisper of promise and he pulled away. I was dazed, and the vertigo of his kiss lingered over me keeping me captive. The blue in his eyes flickered as he dropped my hand and stood.

  His other hand still held my cheek as he said, “You’re poison, Paige. But, I’m tired of hating you. My father was a drunk, and I love you. It’s my affliction, and I’ll never be cured of it, never be rid of how I feel about you.” His voice was hoarse as if he was holding back his emotion.

  I swallowed deeply, the pain of his words seeped from my eyes. He dropped his palm from my face and his chest heaved with each breath as he stepped away. Was there any worse punishment then seeing the damage you’d created and there wasn’t a thing you could do to change it, or make it better?

  “Declan.” I breathed his name, said the word as if it had to be spoken, as if I had to utter it to prove to myself this moment had really happened.

  When I stood, he shook his head and turned. I watched his strong posture fall as he continued to the front doors of the church. He’d kissed me, he’d told me he loved me, but I was his sickness, and it would be selfish of me to feed his addiction.

  Selfish.

  The word throbbed behind my temples, and the panic rose and squeezed my chest with each foot of distance that fell between us. Selfish. I’d given up everything for Clark. Everything for my parents. I’d given up on Declan, I’d lost faith in the love we had. Selfish. I’d sacrificed our child, so we could be together. He would never forgive me.

  After everything was said and done so many years ago, I’d thought we’d be able to make it. But he’d hated me for the choice I’d made. And, in some ways, he’d been right. I’d chosen to run. I’d run to the shelter of a church that offered absolution, to my parents who offered me up like a lamb to the man who was supposed to give me back my soul. I hadn’t known Declan would come back to me a week later, a week too late. He’d despised me and I’d thought I’d given him his escape.

  But, as the church door opened and Declan dissolved between the past and present, I was forced to make another choice.

  And I was going to be selfish this time.

  “He kissed you? In a church?” Lana’s smile was ridiculous.

  “He also said I was poison, remember?” I carelessly shoved the lettuce around my plate.

  “He said he loved you.” She quirked her eyebrow and popped a piece of grilled chicken in her mouth.

  I nodded and the lump in my throat grew. Once I had gotten home from the church, all I’d wanted to do was to hide in my room, make a plan, figure out how I was going to try and repair the relationship I had destroyed. I wasn’t so self-assured that I didn’t realize it might be a battle I’d never win, but I had to try. Because if I didn’t, if I didn’t at least try to explain everything to him, explain why I wouldn’t see him the day he came to my house after we’d split, then he’d always think himself worthless, and I couldn’t let him believe that anymore. I’d hoped to fall into my dirty sheets and the despair of an impossible task. But Lana had made dinner, stripped my linens, and opened
my blinds.

  Lana poured us both a glass of red wine, and I eyed her as she sipped deeply from the glass. “Take a fucking sip, it’ll relax you.”

  Lana had poured me a glass every night that we’d eaten together and I would leave it untouched. I lifted the glass to my nose and the aroma of wood, apples, and berries puckered my lips, and my mouth watered. I exhaled in defeat and took a small sip. The room temperature wine was bitter, and the urge to spit it out almost overwhelmed me.

  “This is gross.” I winced as I gulped my water and Lana laughed.

  “Maybe you’ll like white wine better. I’ll get some for tomorrow.” She gave me a coy grin and I shook my head.

  “I work tomorrow.”

  “That’s right… and you’re hoping Declan will be there?”

  I nodded once and bit my lip. “I need to talk to him.”

  “You could go to his brother’s tattoo shop that he works at. Confront him on his own turf. Force him to listen. He might not show up at The Gallery, and could you blame him if he didn’t?”

  She was probably right. The way I’d let everything go to pieces… I was surprised he could even look at me.

  “I would’ve married you, I want to marry you.”

  “I couldn’t have married you, Declan. We’d end up just like your mom and dad. You would’ve had to get a job working minimum wage. There would be bills, and mouths to feed. You would’ve thrown away everything that is beautiful about who you are until you drowned your regrets in a bottle and ended up hating me for trapping you into a marriage that was doomed from the start.”

  His eyes turned cold and he gripped my arm.

  “You’re hurting me, Declan.”

  His lips moved but no words came out as he increased his grip. I whimpered and he released me abruptly, and I tripped backward nearly losing my balance.

  “Declan?” I was breathless as he raised his hands to his temples trying to quiet the chatter in his head. He mumbled incoherently and when he finally met my gaze, Declan’s blue eyes were blank.

  “I hate you for this. I hate that you would rather kill our child than be poor, than marry me. Than live a life with me.” He was yelling and he never yelled.

  “No, no, Declan that’s—"

  “You’re right. I’m sick and our baby could’ve been sick, and why would you waste your fucking life on me.” He raised his voice and he gripped my arm again and led me to his bedroom door. He had to know I did it for him, for us. He was sick, but I loved him. His beautiful mind. Having a child, this young, it would ruin him. “I’ll never for-forgive you for this.” He croaked and stuttered as his emotions overcame him. My whole body felt empty as I looked up into his eyes. They were filled with tears and he clenched his jaw as he released me from his hold… from his life.

  It was the first time he’d ever turned his back on me, but in reality it was me who had turned on him. I’d lost my faith in who he was, and I couldn’t see past my own fear to make the right choice. I naively thought we’d be able to move on, move forward. That we’d eventually marry without the burden of a child, when we weren’t just children ourselves, but when I saw the pure hate in his eyes that day I knew there was nothing I could do to change what I’d done or how he’d felt about me. So I’d left. And when he came back for me… I ignored his calls, he’d even came to my parents’ home. He’d yelled and fought with my father, who threatened to call the police. I’d hid in my room, thinking the worst of myself, hating who I was and how I had destroyed his innocence with my selfish sin. So I sacrificed my own feelings to God, to the church, in hopes I could at least redeem him. Redeem Declan.

  “I should’ve let him in, Lana. I should’ve taken his calls, I should’ve—"

  “You did what you thought you had to do. You were a still a child yourself and your parents, you think they would’ve let you be together after you’d told them the truth. They would have hung you both by the rafters in that damn chapel if you had tried to stay together.”

  She was right.

  “Do what you have to now, Paige. You’re free to choose again, make it right. He loves you, he said it himself. He’ll forgive you… and if he doesn’t, at least you tried and you can move on.” She sipped her wine and nodded.

  “I’ll give it a week. If he doesn’t show up at The Gallery, I’ll go to him.” As soon as I declared it, the black feeling in my heart lifted.

  “Good, now eat, because you’re too damn skinny and no man wants a bag of bones.” She giggled and I smiled.

  I closed my eyes as the imprint of his kiss, his mercy burned across my lips. He’d charged me as his poison, but had pardoned me with the sweet taste of a promise.

  The bus dropped me off about two miles from Paige’s house and the walk was all uphill. It had snowed last night, but even so, by the time I got to her place I was sweating and probably fucking smelled like shit. I almost turned around when I pulled the piece of paper from my pocket to make sure I was at the right house. It was a palace, hidden within the mountainside. The house was three stories high with gray stucco and pine trim that blended the building into the frost-covered spruces and the wintered, barren Aspens that surrounded it. It was modern lines, but natural at the same time. Paige’s home reminded me of something out of the Frank Lloyd Wright architecture book I’d borrowed from the library once. The driveway’s steep incline was cleared of snow, at least. My calves were already burning, and the hike up to her front door didn’t help.

  The door looked heavy and had iron bars that covered a small, square window within its center. It seemed too medieval compared to the rest of the house. My eyes scanned the massive entryway as if I didn’t already feel out of place enough.

  The voices in my head laughed.

  You don’t belong here.

  You’re trash, can’t you smell your stench.

  The nervous vice in my chest tightened, and I swallowed hard as I rang the doorbell. The dense scent of pine pulled into my lungs as I tried to take a deep breath. There was no sound on the other side of the door, and the longer I waited, the more I began to believe the echoes in my head. Trash. She was too clean. This house with its manufactured purity, this girl with her perfect smile, slight curves, and small stature… she was too good for me, too much to hold. The insecurity bubbled up my throat and choked me.

  “Declan?” Paige’s voice was kind, soothing, and it was bright like the color yellow.

  I lifted my gaze. She was wearing soft looking, black leggings and a large, Army green sweater that consumed her form. The sweat was thick on my brow as I rubbed the back of my neck. “Sorry it took me so long, the bus dropped me down on Elk Avenue.”

  Her eyes widened. “That’s almost three miles. I should have had my dad come get you.”

  The thought of her father picking me up from the brown piece of shit, pile of bricks I lived in almost made me puke. “That’s okay, I don’t mind walking, it’s how I get around.” I gave her a sideways smile, and she stepped back, gesturing for me to enter her castle.

  “You actually just missed my parents. My dad has some pharmaceutical dinner thing…” She winced as she took in my appearance. “They should be back in a few hours. I’ll have one of them take you home if you don’t mind hanging out that long. I feel bad that you walked so far… it’s freezing outside.”

  I’d take as much time as she’d allow, but as I stepped inside and the faint smell of fresh powder hit me, I hoped my scent wouldn’t permeate these spotless walls. White. Everything was white. White marble floors. White walls, white furniture, and white throw rugs. I stopped and looked down at my dirty boots. Crusted mud along the soles flaked onto the shiny surface of the floor and I cringed. There was no way in hell Paige, or her parents, would ever see where I lived.

  “I should take my shoes off.” It wasn’t a question and the panic in my voice was evident.

  Filthy. You’re filthy.

  Paige’s quiet giggle broke through the venom spewing in my brain. “This place is ridiculous, r
ight? The only thing with color are the paintings on the walls, which are pretty great, but I mean, I don’t know, it’s like living in a—”

  “Funeral home?”

  She laughed again, her pink lips curled at the corners and her eyes crinkled around the edges in such an easy way my stomach flipped. “I was going to say museum.” She reached for my hand and laced her fingers with mine. “But funeral home works, too.”

  I kicked off my boots and attempted to bend down and place them neatly along the wall but Paige stopped me. “Leave them. It’s fine.”

  The dirt from my shoes screamed at me.

  Filthy. Filthy.

  “Come on, I talked my mom into getting me some art supplies, I’ve set them up in the den.” She squeezed my hand. “Thanks for coming today.” She flicked her eyes down, her long lashes shadowed on her pink cheeks. “I was nervous.”

  Paige was all I’d wanted and we’d started hanging out all the time at school, and on our half-days we’d go to the diner down the street from campus. Sometimes with her friends, sometimes just us. I liked it better when it was just us. I’d been stuck between her and reality. I wanted to ask her out, I wanted her to be mine, but we came from such different realms and seeing her home, seeing her in this crisp wealth of light, it only made my fears more tangible.

  You shouldn’t have come here.

  You don’t belong.

  “Why are you nervous?” I was the one who should be nervous.

  “I guess, I… I mean… I don’t really know what this…” She stumbled her words as she met my gaze. “I mean are we friends?”