Ashland kissed me harder, pressing her pelvis against one of my legs. I had to sit up at that point, which was mentally harder to do than physically, seeing as she didn’t weigh much. She kneeled on the couch, draping her slender arms around me.
“If you want to head over to the bed, I could give you a massage.”
I smiled at her offer, almost in disbelief that she was trying so hard.
“While that sounds amazing,” I put my hand around hers and patted it, “I think I’d better go.”
“Seriously, Thomas, what’s the big deal?” she sighed as she broke away but continued to look at me. “No one has to know. I can keep a secret, can’t you? What? Are you going to go tell on me to Father What-A-Waste when you go to confession?”
I laughed at her question.
“I don’t go to confession. And Sean’s not the one you need to worry about when it comes to losing credit for your internship. Is two weeks really going to kill you? I mean, if it is, we can go out to a bar right now. It really won’t be that hard to find a guy who’s willing to sleep with you, not with that ass. But I feel I should warn you that whoever you find won’t be nearly as satisfying as me. And probably won’t look as good in coveralls.”
She groaned dramatically and put her head on my shoulder.
“I just don’t understand why we can’t just keep it between us,” she made one last attempt to rationalize it to me.
“On the small chance that it should come up, I’m just not willing to lie.”
In all reality, the truth was that I specifically wasn’t willing to lie to Maura. At this point in our friendship, Maura could tell when I was holding something back. She would be disappointed in me if I put my volunteer status at risk to sleep with Ashland.
She tilted her head, continuing to stare at me intently. I fought the urge to kiss her.
“Go,” she instructed, accepting her defeat. “Before I jump you again.”
I grabbed my keys and walked towards the door. I turned to her before letting myself out. “You want to hang out this weekend?”
“Not unless you’re having sex with me,” she said bluntly.
“I’ll text you,” I laughed.
MAURA
I stood in my running clothes, staring down at the two dresses I had laid out earlier that morning. I’d thought that going for a run in the afternoon would provide clarity for the decision of what to wear, or at least the perspective of how much I was overthinking the whole thing. It hadn’t.
Although I had never been to the symphony, I knew it warranted more formal attire. Unfortunately, I had already worn my one simple black dress on my birthday, and that left me with only two other choices: the floral lavender sundress I wore for Easter, or an old bridesmaid dress I had saved, despite never having worn it since the wedding.
The bridesmaid dress was one that I had always wanted to wear again. It was navy and had a chiffon overlay that was draped over the chest Grecian style with shirring at the waist. I always thought I looked good in the dress, but the draping of the chiffon fabric resulted in a deep V-neckline. In all fairness, there was a satin underlay with a sweetheart neckline so it wasn’t like it showed off a lot…but something about the overlay exposing the underlay made me hesitate on the rare occasions I had the opportunity to re-wear it.
So, I should just go with lavender dress. But it was a sundress, and didn’t that rule out wearing it at night? So, the navy dress was perfect. It was the most formal thing I owned that didn’t look straight out of a prom catalog.
Why do brides always do that? I mused, considering my options. They say they’ll pick a bridesmaid dress that you can wear again, like they’re doing you a favor, and then it ends up being some random color and floor length. Who wears a floor length gown to anything but a wedding or prom? Brides are delusional. Except Sara, I nodded to myself to be fair. She picked the navy bridesmaid dress. Good job, Sara. Okay, I want to wear the navy dress…but the neckline.
My gut was telling me Ethan would think the navy dress was too revealing. I opened my closet to examine whether I had anything else that could potentially work. There was a black flared skirt that I usually paired with a white fitted blouse. I pulled the combination out and laid it next to the dresses. It looked so plain compared to the other two. I let out a sigh just as my phone buzzed.
Are you home? I have something I wanted to drop off for you.
It was Thomas. I was thankful for the distraction. So grateful, I refrained from analyzing what could possibly lead him to needing to come to my apartment to give me something on a Saturday.
Yes. I’m home until about six.
I glanced around my room and the living room to make sure there wasn’t anything I had to clean up. Of course not. I had been so anxious since my birthday, the whole place was immaculate. I guess there were worse nervous habits to have than cleaning.
Address?
I sent him my address, then took a break from staring at the dresses and sat on my couch. Normally I would have cared that I was having a guest over and hadn’t showered, but it was just Thomas.
To avoid going back into my bedroom to stare at the outfits, I went through my phone. Did I have enough time to head to the mall and find another dress? Like I could commit to buying anything in such a short amount of time. Thomas texted me to say he was outside.
Well that was quick.
I buzzed him in.
When he made his way up, I saw he was holding a flat package, wrapped in brown paper. He was also dressed in athletic clothes.
“Did you go running without me?” he asked with feigned offense.
I stepped back and opened the door wider.
“Come on in.” I ignored his question. I wished I could still go on runs with him without upsetting Ethan.
“So, this is where Maura lives,” Thomas reflected as he walked in.
I waited for the inevitable joke.
“It’s nice.”
I stared at him, still expecting a dig.
“I mean, I would have expected more rosaries and statues of Mary, but it’s still nice.” There it was.
“Looks like you went running too,” I commented on his clothes, picturing him jogging with Ashland, marveling at all her stupid Portland stories.
“Actually,” he said matter-of-factly, “I’m on my way to meet Father Sean at the batting cages.”
“Well aren’t you two becoming the best of friends,” I said flatly.
“Maybe he’s taken me on as a pet project. They probably have some sort of adopt-a-heathen program running during Ordinary time,” he cleverly referenced the Church calendar.
Thomas walked further into my apartment, eventually looking into my bedroom. “So, this is where the magic doesn’t happen,” he continued to joke. “What’s with all the clothes? Are you planning on putting on a private fashion show for Ethan later?”
I shook my head. “We’re going to the symphony tonight. I was trying to figure out what to wear.”
He looked over the three outfits.
“You wanna model them for me?” he smirked, knowing my answer.
“No.”
“So,” he paused, looking back at the clothes. “Which one is Maura leaning towards? Nun In Training, the Easter Repeat, or this –” he picked up the navy dress and held it up in front of me, “surprisingly sexy little number.”
I quickly grabbed the hanger from his hands and rolled my eyes. I immediately ruled it out as an option. If Thomas labeled the dress as sexy, then Ethan would surely think it was over the top.
“If you’re trying to get to third base, then I would definitely go with that one,” he winked, maintaining his stupid grin.
I sighed and tossed the dress back down on the bed.
“Besides giving me fashion advice, why did you need to come here?” I stared at him expectantly.<
br />
“Happy birthday.” He handed over the package. “I wanted to give it to you on Thursday, but it wasn’t finished being framed.”
He watched me as I unwrapped it.
I couldn’t think of anything else it could be besides a painting, but I didn’t believe he would have painted something just for me. I turned the frame around to see the canvas and my mouth dropped open when I saw it. It was a statue of Saint Jude, but it was my Saint Jude, the one from Blessed Sacrament.
Like the Pike Place Market picture, Thomas had captured the lighting perfectly. There were sun rays coming down from the stained-glass windows in the background, hitting the statue and illuminating it along with the candles that surrounded. I had always thought the scene was beautiful, but I’d never thought it could be translated into a painting. Speechless, I looked up at him.
“It’s the only location in that horribly dark and depressing church with decent lighting. I never noticed until I saw you sitting over there at Easter,” he explained casually.
I remained silent, still having trouble formulating words.
“Anyway, when my mom told me that was the patron saint of lost causes, I thought it was a pretty appropriate thing for me to paint for you,” he laughed.
“Thomas…” I started, but found myself stopping, transfixed by what I held in my hands. I tried to remember if I had ever told him that it was my favorite place to sit at church or that St. Jude was one of my favorite saints. I couldn’t recall ever saying anything to him. As I continued to notice the details, it registered how much time he must have spent working on it...for me. My silence didn’t seem to bother him.
“This is amazing,” I finally said. “This must have taken you -”
“Really, it was nothing,” he downplayed.
“But you said that you don’t paint anymore.”
He shrugged.
“My sister asked me to paint a mural of Cinderella’s castle for Sophie’s first birthday party, so I thought this was a good way to get back into the swing of things.”
I gave him a look of doubt but decided not to challenge him.
“Well, thank you...it’s beautiful.” I looked directly into Thomas’ eyes.
“I know it’s not the Seattle skyline or Mount Rainier, but…” he shrugged again, “I guess I wanted to try something new. Don’t tell my mom,” he laughed. “She’s been trying to get me to paint Jesus and his friends for years. So, what’s with the skis?” He nodded to the corner where I had stashed them. “You planning a summer trip to the Alps? I hear those are better in the winter.”
“Oh, uh, those are from Ethan. For my birthday,” I said, trying to make my tone sound even.
Thomas inspected my face. “Even though you hate skiing?”
I nodded. He raised an eyebrow at me.
“His family goes to Vail every Thanksgiving, and I’ll be joining them. It’s very thoughtful,” I attempted to sound convincing, either for myself or for Thomas; I’m not sure who.
It was obvious to me that Thomas’ gift was better without him even trying. I could tell by the look in his eyes that he knew that too.
“And he’s taking me to the symphony tonight,” I added, placing the painting down and starting to exit my room, hinting at Thomas to follow me to the door. “Ethan seems to really go all out when it comes to birthdays.”
“I didn’t know you were a fan of the symphony,” Thomas commented, walking behind me, the doubt evident in his voice.
“It should be fun,” I said breezily. “At least more fun than going to the batting cages with Sean.” I opened the door for him.
“I don’t know, if I end the night watching Seven Brides for Seven Brothers with my mom, it could be a tie,” he teased while he walked out the door. “Have fun tonight. Text me when you get bored,” he said cockily. “Happy birthday.”
“Thank you for the painting,” I said with composure. “Have a good night.”
He nodded and turned to walk down the hallway. I let out a large sigh once I was concealed behind my door.
I returned to my bedroom, allowing myself some time to stare at the painting. The painting of one of my favorite places that Thomas had made just for me.
Don’t read into it. It had to be just a coincidence.
There was no way he could have known how special that statute was to me. Whether it was just a fluke or not, that didn’t change the fact that I loved the painting more than anything I had been given in a long time.
I propped the frame up on my nightstand. I returned to the remaining clothes on the bed and quickly decided that I would wear the conservative skirt and blouse. If I wore the lavender dress, all I would think about was how the last time I’d worn it, Thomas had decided to paint again...for me.
THOMAS
It was so busy at the batting cages that Father Sean and I ended up sharing a cage. He graciously allowed me to go first. Wanting to guarantee several hits, I set the pitch speed to a less-than-challenging level. I’m not sure what catharsis I needed, but it was therapeutic hitting ball after ball.
“So,” Father Sean called out after I had made it through about half of my pitches, “how’re things going with Ashland?”
“Fine,” I said as I swung and hit the ball harder.
“She seems nice.”
“Yep.”
With Father Sean, I didn’t know what type of details I was expected to divulge. If it were Tyler or Jeremy, or pretty much any other man, they would be looking for the rundown of breasts, ass, and what she was like in bed. In this circumstance, I would get hassled for not having any information about any of those. Father Sean waited for a few more pitches before trying again.
“So, do you like her?”
I hadn’t been asked that by another guy since high school. Dumbfounded by the unfamiliarity of the question, I let a pitch go by.
“Uh, yeah, I guess. She’s fine.” I tried to answer quickly and regain my focus for the next pitch. I swung and missed.
“You’re not one to get smitten,” he evaluated with a laugh.
I shrugged and looked at him, not caring at this point that I let another pitch go by. “I don’t know. I don’t not want to hang out with her.”
“I’m guessing that’s not how you’ve phrased it to her,” he responded flatly.
I was finally able to make contact with a ball again, but it was a bad hit. “What do you want to know, man?” I called him out.
“Nothing,” he said simply. “Just making small talk.”
He shifted his feet, standing with his arms crossed. “I didn’t expect you to still be hanging out with her after you hooked up the night of the M’s game.”
I shook my head, smiling. “Such low expectations of me, Father.”
“Oh, bullshit,” he retorted. “You were all about the hit it and quit it philosophy that night.”
“I do believe you said I had to act like a gentleman before you left. Are you saying you think I acted in any other manner?” I took my last pitch, pleased that I ended with a nice hit.
“No,” he corrected as he took my place in the cage, taking a few warm up swings. “I’m saying I’m not naive when it comes to guys like you, particularly since I used to be a guy like you.” Father Sean looked at the pitch setting before loading his token. “Weren’t up for a challenge tonight? I think there’s some twelve-year-old girls over there hitting faster pitches,” he smiled.
“You an expert when it comes to twelve-year-old girls too?” I retorted, borderline offensively.
He pretended to ignore me and turned up the setting. I hoped to watch him embarrass himself. After he connected with the ball multiple times, I realized that was unlikely. He had a beautiful swing.
“You bring me here tonight to show off?” I laughed.
Again, he didn’t answer, too focused on swinging. I let him hit a
few more, then decided it was only fair that he also have to multitask during his turn in the cage.
“You know, I haven’t slept with her yet.”
“I figured,” he said. The ball and bat made that wonderful cracking sound when he connected.
“Oh, how so?”
“You brought her to the game.” He took a moment to briefly look back at me. “You’re still trying to impress her.” Without missing a beat, he turned back and hit the ball again.
“Well, I probably would’ve slept with her by now, but Sydney told me the youth center has a policy about staff and volunteers. She said if it became public, Ashland would lose credit for her internship. I figured I could be let go too.”
“It’s because the center is under the Archdiocese,” he explained. “It’s to prevent sexual harassment lawsuits.” There was that cracking sound again.
“Anyway,” I sighed, realizing that nothing was going to wreck the man’s concentration, “I don’t want to mess anything up for anybody. I figured waiting a month wasn’t going to kill me.”
“Huh, interesting,” he reflected sarcastically. “You’re telling me that abstaining from sex is possible...even for someone like you?”
“Yeah, even for someone like me,” I confirmed flatly. “I will tell you this though: telling her no is like some sort of aphrodisiac. She was all up on me the other night.”
He turned and raised an eyebrow at me, finally letting a pitch go by.
“What?” I asked innocently. “It’s the truth. If I had known that’s how women responded to a guy withholding, I would’ve done it a long time ago and saved myself a lot of pleading.”
Father Sean returned to his stance.
“You can’t tell me you didn’t have a similar experience when you returned to pious living, you know, before the collar?” I challenged.
He went back to hitting perfectly but remained silent.
“That’s a yes,” I laughed, enjoying calling him out. “Don’t be mad at me; you’re the one who wanted small talk.”
“There may have been a few situations,” he paused, selecting his words, “when I first returned to trying to follow the Church’s teaching...in which similar...reactions from ladies occurred,” he admitted before swinging hard and hitting his last pitch. I put my helmet back on and grabbed my bat.
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