In This Life

by Christine Brae

  “Dork.” I slapped his butt. “Let’s go to bed before Mikey realizes that the noises he just heard weren’t in a dream he was having.”

  “WHAT TIME DO you have to leave today?” Dante asked.

  We were whispering under the covers as dawn gloriously settled over Manhattan. The tinted windows that shaded us from the glare of the rising sun were the same ones that opened us up to the beauty of the city. There we were in the aftermath of our lovemaking and proclamations of love and promises of a forever.

  “I’ll head out at noon so I can drop Mikey off at school on my way there. I’m on the night shift for seven days straight,” I answered, as we both focused our attention on the suitcase that laid open on the floor next to the dresser. “I’ll try to be home two weeks from today.”

  “I’ll miss you.” He lovingly caressed my face as I wrapped my arms around his waist.

  “I’ll miss you too,” I answered, lifting my head up and pinching his nose with my fingers.

  “You know, these living arrangements will have to change eventually,” he said. “Let me be the one to commute. I can set up an office there. These two weekends a month aren’t exactly the best way to start a marriage.”

  “And what? Leave all this?” I made a sweeping motion with my arm.

  He scrunched up his nose and made a face at me. Truth be told, I enjoyed my independence. Those nights away at the hospital were the nights when I allowed myself to miss my mom, to mourn, to cry over what could never have been. Baltimore was far enough from New York to give me the space I needed. He was smart enough to know that. He was also smart enough to drop it for now. “Let’s rethink it once you start a new rotation,” he concluded.

  “Okay,” I agreed. “And don’t stress out too much about work! If you don’t get the deal, you don’t get the deal. You’ll still be okay. We have enough, Leola.”

  “Okay, boss!” he said with a chuckle. He flipped me up from under the blanket and tossed my body on top of his.

  I let out a giggle as I ran my hands along his sides, trying my best to tickle his ribs.

  “You really want to do that?” he warned, before throwing me on my back, locking my arms above my head. He started to rub his chin against my neck.

  “No! No! Uncle! I didn’t mean to do that! Stop!” I squealed. I kicked and screamed until he released my arms. I grabbed a pillow and threw it at him. Something fell out of it, landed on his head, and fell right on top of my face. The laughing stopped immediately when he lightly brushed my cheek and held up the culprit.

  “What’s this?” he asked, looking at the object. It was the wooden rosary from a time long ago and a place far away, its tiny beads now old and worn. The knotted rope that held them together, frayed and thinned out by the years. “Is this the same one you got in Thailand?”

  “Yup.” Try to remain cool. You are only as guilty as you look.

  “What’s it doing in our bed?

  “It must have fallen out of the pillow.”

  “Pillow? Do you sleep with it every night?” His voice was terse with agitation. He sat up and slid inches away from me. His demeanor changed immediately. He held his chin up and regarded me with cold, steely eyes. Ice green and frozen in place.

  “I’ve been praying,” I said as I attempted to pull him back towards me. He stiffened his stance and refused to move any closer.

  “What are you praying for?” What was I praying for? Many things and nothing at the same time. I held on to the rosary because I wanted to remember. I didn’t want to forget. Those feelings that you have, the elation of a first love, they just never happen again. On second thought, that’s what I prayed for. I prayed that one day I would forget.

  “You, Mikey, my mom and dad. Just life in general. Mostly to give thanks for all our blessings. And peace.”

  His face relaxed a little, but he swung his legs off the bed and turned the other way.

  “Tey, what’s the matter?” I asked.

  “We have peace. You don’t have to pray for it,” he said as he quickened his pace towards the bathroom. “Do me a favor and put that away. I’ll get you a new one today.”

  We all waged a war with the memory of a ghost.

  THE HALLS OF the hospital were deserted that day. Everyone had left the building, save for a few of us who opted to do the night shift on the eve of Thanksgiving. It had been three weeks since Dante and I had that argument in the bathtub, three weeks since I thought about Jude every single day. Three weeks since I last took the pill, three weeks of making a baby once, twice, thrice a day. Three weeks ago, I decided that I was going to give Dante everything he wanted from me. Three weeks ago, I threw Jude away for good. I resolved to solidify my marriage, I loved Dante enough to trust our future in his hands.

  I breezed through the locker room, trying to gather up my stuff, knowing that I had to be somewhere in a few hours. Michael, Dante, and I were going to have a quiet dinner at home, and all I could think about was the fact that the men in my life were waiting there for me. I didn’t bother to change out of my scrubs. I checked my phone to find a few missed calls from Dante. He’d been working late for the past few weeks, and I had truly missed him.

  I pressed the callback button on my phone and quickened my pace. “Hi,” he answered on the first ring. “You heading home soon?”

  Home. The holidays with him had been my most cherished blessings over the past few years.

  “Yes, sorry. I had to pick up my new badge and security took forever to find it,” I said, breathlessly running through the corridor.

  “New badge. Hmm. I like it. Tell me what it says.” I could picture him smiling on the other end of the line.

  I stopped at the door of the locker room. “Anna Dillon-Leola.” What a huge turnaround. The first act in committing to start a family.

  “Nice, Mrs. Leola. Hurry home so I can thank you for that,” he whispered. Mikey was probably in the same room with him.

  I hurriedly punched in my code before laying my phone carefully on the wooden bench and placing it on speaker. All I needed to do was change into my shoes and grab my coat.

  “I’m rushing to catch the tail end of mass at SPJ by the hospital. You know, the one a few blocks over.” I bent down to tie my sneakers. Despite being high-tops, they were very fashionable. I had sworn off Crocs and clogs, the staple of every resident in the entire medical community.

  “Why there? Won’t it be easier to just stop by St. Pat’s on your way home?” He sounded worried, and I knew it was because he wanted me to get home sooner.

  “No time, I want to drive straight through.” I grabbed my things and headed towards the exit doors with the phone stuck in my ear.

  “Spark. Baby. Don’t go there. Just go tomorrow,” he said.

  “No, I want to sleep in with you tomorrow. It’s my only day off! Gotta run. See you in a few hours!”

  I threw the phone back in my bag and ran down the road towards Charles Street, arriving at the church as the offertory procession was taking place. I was so late that I didn’t bother moving through the crowds of people converged in the narthex by the entrance. I stood by the rear doors, intent on moving up through the lines in time for communion, positioned so far away that I couldn’t even see the altar. I heard the priest’s voice through the central sound system, but my mind was churning with thoughts of my parents. The pain of missing them began on this day and lasted through to the New Year. Sometimes I was convinced that Michael was coping much better than I was. There was so much regret in my heart, and it had changed the things that I wanted out of life.

  The phone in my purse rang incessantly. Dante knew I was going to be in church, why was he so insistent on trying to reach me? The cranberry sauce is in the fridge, I thought to myself, and the potatoes are ready to be placed in the microwave. Don’t start too early, they won’t be as good if we have to reheat.

  I threw myself back into the moment when the choir started to sing the Communion hymn. Slowly, a line started to form and we pa
infully inched towards the priest standing at the foot of the large marble crucifix. He was assisted by a few other priests, each stationed along the steps of the four corners of the lectern. I was in no mood to fight through the crowd only to end up in the same place as everybody else, so I remained last in the sluggish, crawling line of people. Step, stop. Step, stop. I looked down at my hands and then at my shoes. Step, stop. Step, stop.

  Step.

  Stop.

  “Body of Christ,” said the voice in front of me as he lightly dropped the host in the safety of my hands.

  “A—”

  Amen. You’re supposed to say Amen.

  I would know those lips anywhere, that nose, those ears, the dark hair that framed the tips of them. I found myself looking into the eyes of the cruelest joke that life had yet to play on me. He jerked his head up and fell two steps back, his face registering fear and shock. Mine quickly turned to embarrassment. What a fool I’d been! There were clues! Theology. Teaching. Planned course of his life.

  “Oh my God!” I cried out in a half-sob as I brought my hands to my mouth, the host tumbling to the ground. My shoulders curled over my chest as I bowed down in humiliation. He wasn’t dead. He wasn’t married, and he definitely didn’t have children. He was alive and kicking, and those eyes were everything I had remembered them to be.

  All my childhood dreams, my youthful wishes, my dashed hopes, my anger, my loneliness—they all merged together to unleash a fury that I realized had never left me.

  We stood in the middle of the church, just him and I, cloaked in an eerie silence as the heat of the parishioners’ stares burned through the clothes on my body. My reaction surely gave me away. I was stripped naked for all the world to see. I wanted to die right then and there. My imaginary reunion killed in the blink of an eye, and taken from me in the place where I thought I would be safe from hurt and harm. I couldn’t move my legs, couldn’t go anywhere—I was frozen in place and sinking rapidly, drowning in hysteria and unable to save myself. I was too far gone, there was no turning back. Instinctively, my arm jerked upwards freely and slapped him across the cheek. Those beautiful cheeks. Five years did nothing to change that handsome face. I wanted to carve the scars that he left me with on his skin. The same ones that he inflicted upon me when he left me alone right after I lost my mother. He didn’t recoil; he stood his ground. The pastor started to walk towards us as the breathless murmurs of the congregation began to get louder.

  Screech, went the microphone. It was worse than nails on a chalkboard.

  It was as if he hadn’t heard it. “Please, please wait for me after mass. I’ll be out right away. Please wait.”

  He must have thought he was whispering, but the microphone on his chest broadcasted every word he said. I glanced around to watch everyone huddle together and cower with unsolicited shame. For a second, I was lost in his wounded eyes. They pleaded, begged, implored for understanding. He extended his hands and tried to stroke my arm, as if to calm me down. When that didn’t work, he tried to grab my hand as I took an exaggerated step back. I don’t want those robes touching me. They will melt me and I will disintegrate into a puff of smoke. That’s it. That’s all I was to him. A puff of smoke.

  “Anna—” No. I was your Blue. Do you remember?

  “No. Fuck you. Stay away from me! Stay. The Fuck. Away from me!” I shrieked.

  A collective gasp rounded out the sound effects of this very absurd situation. I wasn’t sure whether it was the cold air that made me shiver violently but I allowed the hostility in my heart to help me stop the tears. I covered my mouth with my hands and started to giggle. This was crazy. Just demented. There I was, a redheaded girl in a ponytail wearing ugly sea green scrubs and high-tops, going up against a man of God.

  I guess I’d never be returning to that church again. I turned on my heel and ran through the long never-ending aisle, across the church lobby, and out the heavy, stained glass doors. I retched and vomited immediately after the doors closed, but no one followed me, no one sought to ease my pain. I was still shaking, still in shock, desperately trying to weave my way around the passing cars, past the hospital, and on to the parking garage to retrieve my car.

  Michael was waiting for me, and we had so much to be thankful for. I promised myself I would be strong for him, and so I picked myself up and made my way home.

  I SHOVED THE door open and kicked it in with full force, right before charging down the hall and flinging my backpack on the ground. My feet stomped on the wooden floor, calling attention to my presence and declaring my fury to the two people who were waiting patiently for me.

  Dante and Mikey sat at the dinner table, staring at the box of pizza that was neatly placed in their midst. I turned my head to find the turkey still in the sink, soaking in the brining bag. I approached my brother and wrapped my arms around his neck.

  “Michael, please go to your room for a minute, I need to speak to your sister,” Dante commanded as he walked towards me with arms up in the air, ready to take me in.

  “Stop!” I yelled. “Don’t touch me.”

  Michael scampered away and up the stairs.

  Two steps forward, one outreached arm out. “Spark.”

  Nothing he said would have made this any easier.

  “No! You knew. You knew and you stood by and watched me die for five years. Damn you!” I threw my keys at him, hitting him squarely on the chest.

  He slid towards me and grabbed me, pulling me gently towards him while keeping my arms to my sides and holding me down. “Anna, please. Let me explain.” He sucked his cheeks in and let out a sigh.

  I ignored his attempt to calm me down. “When? When did you know? Let me go!” I bent down and twisted my body around to loosen his hold before breaking free of him.

  “He told me after you left Thailand. Said that he was in love with you, but he was committed to entering the priesthood. It wasn’t my story to tell.” Tears started to form in his eyes. He knew me so well. He knew I was going to leave.

  “Yes it was! Yes it was, Tey. It involved me. You based our love on this? On the fact that you knew he would never come back?” I carelessly tore a sheet of paper towel and swiped it across my face.

  He raised his voice to get my attention, throwing his arms up in the air and forcing me to listen. “I gave him your phone number! He never called!”

  My breath hitched at the pain of his words. So he had a choice. And he didn’t choose me.

  “And you’re telling me this now because?”

  The front door swung open. I didn’t remember shutting it. The gust of cool air that engulfed us caused me to stop in mid-sentence.

  “Anna?”

  He didn’t look anything like he had that morning. It was the image that I always had of him in my head. Low slung jeans, fitted t-shirt, that damn black baseball cap. Faded somewhat and torn on the edges. Seeing him in the flesh after all this time was too much. I crumpled to the ground in a heap of tears. The shock, the excitement, the tiny hinge of hope… they were all centered on the things that could never be. But then just as quickly, my inner strength took over. I gulped in a deep breath and exhaled out the love that I had for both of these men. I wiped my face with the hem of my top and stood up self-assuredly, ignoring him and turning my head to glare angrily at Dante.

  “How does he know where we live?” I asked, my tone steady and even.

  “He called after you left the church,” Dante answered guiltily as he repeatedly pulled on his shirt collar.

  “Ha! You have each other’s contact info?” I busted out a low pitched laugh.

  “We used my phone in Thailand, Anna. Of course he had my number,” Dante answered, his voice thin and weak.

  “Great.” I moved away and leaned on the back of the couch. “Dante, please tell him to leave. I don’t want him here in our home.”

  Jude shook his head in disbelief before turning in my direction. He placed his hands on his hips and took an admonishing stance. Although we stood just severa
l feet apart from each other, my mind was on an island in the Pacific far, far away. For no matter how much I tried to tune everything out, all I could do was remember.

  “Our home?” Jude asked, genuinely confused. It was like a scene from a comedy. We were all so focused on our individual pain that none of us were listening to each other.

  Dante approached him, placed a hand on his shoulder, and began to push him towards the door. “Dude, you’d better go. You can talk to her when she’s calmed down.”

  He waved his hand dismissively. “No. Anna, please! We need to talk!” Despite being furious at him, there it was again, that strange phenomenon that made me want to touch him.

  I stood steadfast in my place, arms crossed, feet squarely on the ground. Dante paced back and forth, first towards me, and then towards him.

  Jude’s look turned from baffled to incensed. He squinted his eyes and shook his head, as if he had just heard the most ludicrous thing in the world. With his chest puffed up like a rooster, his eyebrows drawn together, and his tone marked and derisive, he asked once again, “You two live together?”

  “Something your new BFF neglected to tell you?” Interesting. It was my turn to throw the dagger.

  “Spark, no,” Dante pleaded as he unsuccessfully tried to block Jude from my view.

  I deliberately flitted across the room until my face was merely inches from his. He actually thought I was going to kiss him. The way he closed his eyes and tilted his head towards me. The way he sucked in a breath and inhaled deeply. Presumptuous bastard. I needed to rethink this battle strategy, build up a resistance before it was too late. Soon enough, it would happen. He would demolish me and walk away without a second thought.

  Dante gasped in fearful anticipation as I formed every single syllable with my lips. “We. Are. Married. And that just means that we fuck. Every. Single. Day. Now get out.”

  Dear Fate,

  Go away. Leave me be. Allow me to live with my loss, the truth, this revelation.