by Molly Ringle
I closed my eyes and said it. “Yes.” I hoped Laurence heard it, hoped he was inches away with his ear to the door and not across the room with the pillow over his head.
Tony only nodded. His gaze dropped to the floor. We stood there a minute or two, the crumbling statue of an angel and the sniveling, soiled, plucked blossom.
He breathed out a long sigh, as if letting go of something dear and heavy. “Does anyone else know? Amber? Shannon?”
“Shannon. Not Amber yet.”
“Then let’s keep it that way,” he said, “at least until the day’s over and Amber feels all right. We should focus on her today.”
I smeared away a tear, nodding.
“We’ll talk after that.” He trudged to the top of the stairs, where he paused to squint at me, pain etched in his features. “I can’t believe this. You said you might want to see other people, but I never thought you actually would. Not right under my nose, at least.”
I looked up at the dim ceiling, praying it was my own death Amber’s tombstone had predicted for today. “I suck.” I took a shuddering breath. “I’m so sorry.”
“But I see whose door you’re unwilling to leave.” He glanced at the silent slab of wood against my back. “Good luck. Hope he treats you better than you treated either of us.”
Tony moved down the stairs and out of my sight. The door on the third floor landing closed with a thump a minute later.
I turned and pressed my forehead to Laurence’s door, my eyes shut. “Laurence, I love you. I was just scared. I said the wrong things. Please, please let me in.”
Silence.
I waited half an hour before surrendering, and retreated downstairs to the cold blankets I’d left in the study room. My friends, if I could count any of them as friends now, lay as three unmoving lumps around me. Tony, though he probably did not sleep, kept his back to me. Amber appeared to be sacked out. Shannon, however, stirred and peeked over the blanket at me.
“What happened?” she whispered.
My misery boiled and spilled over. I sat up and beckoned sharply to her. She followed me out into the corridor, where I rounded on her.
Chapter Forty-Four: February Nineteenth
“You told Tony?” I asked.
Cringing, she looked down. “I didn’t mean to. I’d just woken up. And I only said to try Laurence’s room. I didn’t really tell him.”
“Well, he found out. It’s over, him and me. And Laurence appears to hate me now, too.” I folded my arms, kicking at a clump of yarn on the hall carpet.
“Why?” she asked.
“Because how could I do that to Tony, dump him in the middle of the night, right after he--” I stopped talking, not trusting myself. I could too easily break into tears again.
“Eva, please, I--”
Someone stirred in the study room. Shannon tiptoed over and peeked in. “It’s Amber. I’ll go in. You can...”
But I was already pacing away down the hall. Joining those three right now was unthinkable.
My chest hurt to blame Shannon for even a portion of last night’s misery, but I couldn’t help thinking it: if she hadn’t said anything, maybe none of that horror would have unfolded.
A few minutes later, Shannon, Amber, and Tony came out of the study room.
“We’re going to make tea,” Shannon told me. “That shouldn’t count as breaking the fast. Want to come?”
I shook my head, unable to look any of them in the eye. “I’ll try to rest. Otherwise I won’t be any use later.”
So I lay down alone in the study room, but ended up getting no sleep whatsoever. For over two hours I rehearsed potential speeches to deliver to Tony and Laurence, but none of the words were adequate to explain my cowardice and dishonesty. Finally I gave up my attempt at rest, and left to take a shower.
The mirror told me how awful I looked. As penance of some stupid kind, I denied myself any makeup or hair products. Then I dragged myself into the kitchen, where I found only Shannon and Amber.
“The boys headed downstairs to wait for us,” Shannon said. “We were going to wash up and change, then go down. You can go to them, or stay with us, or...”
I opted for the ones who I didn’t have to hide anything from, painful though it would be to see them. Grabbing a crumpet to bring along, I mumbled, “I’ll go down.”
A few minutes later, I stood outside the hostel with Tony and Laurence, none of us looking at each other. February nineteenth was dawning yellow and gray with clouds and broken sunlight. My purple fleece hat squashed my low ponytail, and only lip balm eased the chill on my face. I hugged my quilted coat around myself as the freezing wind stabbed through my jeans.
I ventured a glance at Laurence. Shadows like ink smudges marked the skin beneath his eyes. His jaw bore a fresh shaving nick, as if he had tried too hard to scrape every trace of me off his face. His damp hair glinted in the morning light, resting in neatly combed waves, as though my fingers had never mussed and caressed it.
Demoralized to the point of nausea, I peeked at Tony. He gazed at the castle from under puffy eyelids, his face blotchy. The wind shifted and swirled a whiff of his deodorant to my nostrils. The familiar and comforting scent brought tears to my sore eyes.
What had I done? How would I ever fix it?
Shannon and Amber emerged from the hostel. Shannon looked tired and meek, but still lovely as a classical milkmaid, with her curly blonde tendrils escaping from her fuzzy gray hat. Amber appeared to have taken the same makeup-free vow as me this morning, and wore her hair in a tame braid down her back. The simplicity looked pretty on her, like she was a novice about to embrace holy mysteries.
“How you guys doing?” Amber looked at each of us, her eyes vulnerable without her mascara.
“Fine.” Laurence sounded perfectly steady. “You, little miss?”
She took a deep breath, and shrugged with a weak smile.
“Everything will be okay.” Tony offered her his arm. “Come on.”
She hooked her hand into his elbow. Shannon took hold of Amber’s other arm, and gave her a sideways hug. We all set off down Princes Street toward St. Mary’s Cathedral.
As the three others fell into step ahead of us, I plucked at Laurence’s arm and slowed him down until we were out of earshot. “Please,” I said. “I’m so sorry.”
He dropped a cool gaze onto me as we walked. “Didn’t I ask you not to speak to me?”
“I deserve that. I know. But...” I glanced ahead. Tony, Shannon, and Amber were talking, paying us no mind. “I love you,” I whispered. “He knows I’m choosing you. We can be together. Just please talk to me.”
He gazed forward, spine stiff, hands in his overcoat pockets. “Why would I want to be with someone who denies any involvement with me?”
“I won’t deny it anymore. I’ll tell anyone.”
“I can’t believe I didn’t think of this before. Or that I didn’t think it would apply to me, at least.” He kept walking at his fast clip.
“Didn’t think of what?”
“You’re dishonest with everyone. You were only honest with me because I caught you. But how long will that last?”
“No! It’s different with you.”
“When I’m at college in another state, and you’re feeling lonesome, how do I know you aren’t going to land on your back under some new guy?”
The words cut like a whip, knocking the breath out of me. “You think that’s what I’m like?”
“I’ve seen that’s what you’re like. I’ve benefited from it--which was stupid of me.”
“It wasn’t stupid. We both wanted it. We still do, right?”
“Wanting something doesn’t make it a good idea. This, in particular, is a terrible idea, considering how far apart we’ll be next year.”
“I’ll transfer,” I said. “I’ll find a way to be with you.”
“Sure, you say so now. You have a way of saying whatever helps you most at the moment.”
“Is this really because I
panicked and lied last night?”
“No. That only illuminated things for me. The problem’s much bigger. You cannot do long-distance relationships, and possibly can’t do honesty, period.”
I opened my mouth and squawked the first sound in a protest, but he held up his hand to silence me.
“Today,” he said, “we should be focusing on Amber, which is why I asked you not to speak to me.” He accelerated and caught up to the other three.
With anguish flinging itself around inside me like a trapped bird, I stumbled after them.
We entered St. Mary’s and took seats. Rather than pews like our church had back home, this cathedral had rows upon rows of identical wooden chairs, presumably so they could whisk them all away and make room for the occasional grand event requiring acres of floor space. I sat in the center of one such row, and Laurence placed himself at the aisle end, with Amber, Tony, and Shannon between us. I gazed in misery at the high arched ceiling and the candles on the altar, wanting to scream protestations of love and sincerity. But I could not deny how screwed-up my methods had been; he had every reason to doubt me. My fingernails dug trenches into my palms until pain shortened my breath.
Other worshippers filtered in, and the priests and altar servers emerged near the sacristy, straightening their white robes and placing bookmarks in the oversized Bible.
Amber, next to me, folded and refolded a collection envelope someone had left in the pew. She had been doing this since we sat down, and now the envelope was falling apart like moth-eaten cotton in her hands.
“Have you sensed anything this morning?” I asked her.
She nodded without looking up. “There’s one three rows ahead. An old woman, just sitting there. Victorian era.”
“Oh.” I shivered, glancing at the empty place she referred to.
“What do I do when it’s Communion time and I’m in front of the priest?” she asked Tony. “Open my mouth?”
“You can, but that’s kind of old-fashioned,” he said. “Most people cup their hands up, like this. But technically you’re not supposed to take the Eucharist unless you’re a confirmed Catholic.”
Seeming to recall something, she nodded. “The wafer burned Mina’s forehead, in Dracula.”
“I think that’s because she was turning into a vampire,” Shannon said. “Not because she wasn’t Catholic.”
“If you want,” Tony said, “you can bow your head and cross your arms over your chest, and the priest can give you a blessing instead. But I don’t think there’s any harm in taking the wafer.”
“Then maybe I’ll take it,” Amber said.
But half an hour later, when Mass had gotten underway and we lined up to take the wafer and wine, I saw her hesitate in front of me, then bow her head and receive the blessing. The priest laid his hand on her head, intoning quietly. When Amber turned away to return to her seat, tears shone in her eyes, and misery blanched her face.
I mechanically offered up my cupped hands, said “Amen,” and ate the wafer, conditioned by years of churchgoing. Only as I walked back to our row did I think of how many sins had piled up against me by now, and how little I deserved to participate in any sacred part of a religious ceremony.
I sat and glanced at Laurence, who had neither gone up for blessing nor wafer. Next to me, Amber, Shannon, and Tony all sat with eyes closed. Shannon held Amber’s hand. Tony had his hands pressed together beneath his chin, fingertips touching his lower lip, exactly like a praying saint in a painting. I wondered whether he was asking God to help him endure the agony I’d thrown upon him, or whether, a nobler soul than me, he confined his prayers to Amber’s anxiety.
I closed my eyes too, and offered up a prayer in my head:
Dear God: Amber means well, and she’s far more honest than me, so please don’t punish her, even if she has said nasty things about you. With friends like me, she doesn’t need a vengeful God in her life. Do something nice for her, please. As for me, I swear, I’ll try harder. I’ll go straight; from now on I’ll be faithful to the people who trust me. I’ll apologize to Shannon. I’ll be Tony’s lifelong friend if he’ll let me. I’ll be someone who deserves Laurence’s love. Help me do all that if you can. Please.
Communion ended. The altar servers whisked away the bowls and goblets. After a brief homily and closing blessings, Mass concluded and the small congregation filed out. We stayed where we were, sitting in the middle of the church.
“Oh, hey,” Amber said, rousing herself weakly from her preoccupation. “Happy birthday, Laurence.”
“Yeah, happy birthday,” Shannon echoed.
“Happy birthday,” I mumbled.
Tony didn’t add to the felicitations.
“Thanks.” Laurence picked up his overcoat from the back of the chair. “I’m off to get breakfast. Anyone coming?”
Amber shook her head. “I’ll stay a little longer.”
“Me too,” Tony said.
Shannon got up. “I’ll come. I’ll carry tea, or coffee or whatever. Anyone want anything?”
Tony shook his head, face turned down to his lap.
“Ginger biscuits,” Amber requested softly.
“Tea?” Shannon said.
Amber nodded. “Please.”
I stood up. “I’ll come with you.”
Laurence turned away. “No. Stay with them.”
“I want some fresh air.” Stubbornly I followed Shannon and Laurence out the door, beneath the pipes of a gigantic organ that arched over the entryway.
In front of the church he jogged down the steps without waiting for me. Shannon shot me a look of hesitation, as if not sure she was allowed to follow me.
I sighed, and muttered, “Come on.” I ran after him, Shannon trailing me. “Laurence.” I ducked in front of him so he had to stop or else knock me over.
He stopped, and looked aside at the traffic, lips set tight.
“You guys.” Shannon caught up to us. “I have something to say, all right? I’m sorry for what happened, but I didn’t mean to send Tony up. I didn’t mean to say anything. It’s just, I was hardly awake. But still, it’s not my fault what you were doing when he found you.”
Laurence glanced at me, and then looked back at the street. “You laid a guilt trip on her? Nice.”
I flapped my arms. “No--Shannon, I’m sorry too. It isn’t your fault. I didn’t get any sleep last night, and I...”
Laurence smiled dryly at Shannon. “She’s still making excuses.”
Shannon backed away. “You guys need to talk. I’ll get the tea.” She darted off before I could say anything to make her stay.
Laurence, meanwhile, tried to walk past as if I weren’t even there, but I stepped into his path again.
“I won’t try to win you back,” I said. “Not right now. I just wanted to give you this.” From my coat pocket I removed a small package wrapped in tissue paper.
After a few seconds he extended a hand and took it. He unpeeled the tissue paper to reveal the small, shiny knife.
“Thought you deserved your own skean-dhu,” I said. “I got your initials put on it.”
He traced the letters, and tested the blade against his finger. “Is this really the time to be giving me sharp objects?” He neither looked at me nor smiled.
“Stab me if you like. Happy birthday.” I stepped back.
“Thank you.” He said it coolly, and strode onward, alone.
My head aching in a dull, insomniac way, I wandered off the other direction. I found a convenience shop and bought a package of chocolate digestive biscuits, figuring they would serve both as breakfast and as a peace offering to Tony, if he wanted any.
I got back to the church at the same time as Laurence. We glanced at each other and ascended the steps, several paces apart. As we reached the high wooden doors, the sun broke through the clouds, stirring up a breeze and bathing the Gothic facade in brilliance. Spring seemed to have arrived for a moment.
We both paused, and looked up into the flood of sunshine. Below,
Shannon climbed the steps balancing four capped paper cups in a cardboard holder in one arm, and carrying the fifth in her other hand.
She looked up too. “Is that warmth, coming from the sky? I’d forgotten what that felt like.”
Squinting upward, Laurence nodded.
“Is it okay if I talk about the weather with you, too?” I asked.
He turned away. “Not especially.”
Clouds swooped over the sun again. The shadows rushed back in. I trailed my friends into the church.
There we found Tony and Amber glowing like a pair of meteors and whispering in astonishment.
They still sat in their chairs, their knees turned toward one another. Tears gleamed on Amber’s face, but she gasped and smiled as if overjoyed. Tony held her hands and examined her palms, murmuring in confusion. He appeared to be trembling.
“What’s wrong with you guys?” I asked, as Laurence and I snaked down the pews toward them.
Tony turned to me, still holding Amber’s hands. His eyes were bright, and his lips parted. His skin was radiant, as if he hadn’t spent the night awake and heartbroken. “I think I’ve been called,” he said.
Chapter Forty-Five: Priests, Liars, and Diplomats
Within half an hour Amber was laughing ecstatically. She no longer needed to be inside the church; she feared nothing. She wanted to be outside where she could skip and dance and scarf down the gingersnaps Laurence had bought her.
“Dude, I’m starving!” She stuffed cookies into her mouth. “I’m malnourished from stress. Mmm, these are awesome!”
As Tony walked, he turned in circles and looked with wonder upon traffic lights and pigeons. “I know I’ll have rough patches. I know this won’t be easy. But right now, it’s just so obvious what I’m meant to do. I’ve never been so sure of anything. It’s amazing. Thanks, God!” He threw both hands in the sky as we crossed the bustling Princes Street. “Thanks, God!”
Shannon, still balancing most of the tea cups, caught Tony’s arm before he could whack a passer-by. Laurence grabbed Amber’s elbow to steer her out of the path of a taxicab, a favor she didn’t seem to notice.
