by Jenni Moen
While staring at would-be oasis, my eyes fell on a certain exquisite ecclesiast. He was putting gas in his car and whatever breath I’d just found left me again.
He looked unpriestly again in a blue t-shirt and jeans. I forced myself to look away. All things considered, the feelings he stirred in me were not right. The most obvious being that, despite what he was wearing, he was still a priest. The less obvious being that he’d all but admitted to being in love with my sister. The combination should have been enough to stop me from looking at him like I was, but it wasn’t.
I forced my gaze on the road ahead of me and walked faster.
“Kate!” he called from the other side of the street. I waved but mandated my feet to keep walking. I needed to get home. I needed to shower. I needed to stop looking at my friendly neighborhood priest like he was a piece of meat, and I was a rabid dog.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him jog across the street, and I cursed under my breath. I was a sweaty mess.
I stopped walking only after he injected himself into my path. “I can’t believe you’re running in this kind of heat.” He shook his head disapprovingly but looked truly concerned. “Do you have any water?” If I said I wasn’t enjoying his apparent concern, I’d be lying.
“I’m fine. I’m headed home now.” I tried to nonchalantly wipe the sweat off my forehead. My stomach clenched, and my heart raced. I told myself that it was because of the run and not because of the man in front of me.
“You should run early in the mornings. You’re going to kill yourself out here at this time of day.” He looked me up and down as if he was checking to make sure I truly was okay. An eyebrow arched and the corner of his mouth turned up in a hidden smile as his eyes fell on my t-shirt.
I looked down, unsure of what I’d find. I hadn’t been paying any attention when I’d thrown on clothes for my run. ‘My Dad Still Thinks I’m a Virgin,’ was emblazoned across my chest. “Sorry,” I said, stumbling over my words. “I wasn’t really paying attention when I dressed.”
He grinned and shrugged. “It’s funny.”
“Well, I probably shouldn’t wear it around here. My dad won’t like being played for a fool.” I regretted the words as soon as they were out of my mouth. I didn’t want Paul to think I was some sleazy whore that slept around a lot. I mean, I had slept around a little here and there, but I was a long way from reaching sleazy whore status.
He chuckled, and the green in his eyes came to life. After last night, I was glad to see it.
Now that I knew that he was in love with her – and I was positive that I hadn’t misread that – he was even more intriguing to me than he’d been before. I couldn’t imagine how hard it would be to be in love with someone and not be able to do anything about it. I also couldn’t imagine how Grace had missed it.
“Yeah, so I’ve got to head home,” I said.
“I’ve got to get going, too.” He gestured over his shoulder toward the gas station but didn’t move in that direction.
I nodded and started to move around him. As I started to pass, he reached out and touched my arm. “Is our girl better today?”
“This hasn’t been one of her better days.”
“I can imagine.”
“It’s hard, you know?” I asked. “There’s nothing I can say to make any of it better for her. I’m a distraction at times, but I know I’m a poor substitute for whom she really needs.”
We continued to talk for several more minutes. As usual, Paul offered to do anything he could to help. “Well, I think my gas is probably finished pumping,” he said, nodding toward his car across the street.
“Yep, and I think my legs are seizing up. I better get moving.”
“You know,” he said, backing away slowly. “I usually run early in the mornings. If you want a partner.”
I narrowed my eyes at him, “I don’t know. How early are we talking?” It would be nice to have a running partner, but he probably wasn’t the best choice. That thought led to another. I wondered if he knew Grace had been an early morning runner, too – that they had that in common. Once again, I was going to be a poor substitute for the real thing.
“Six. You can do it,” he said, flashing me his most persuasive smile, clearly oblivious to my inner dialogue.
I should have said no. Meeting him was a bad idea. One of two things were bound to happen: I’d either make a complete ass of myself when he left me in his dust, or I’d make a complete ass of myself when I threw myself on the ground in front of him in hopes that he’d try to resuscitate me. Either way, it wasn’t going to end well. “I don’t know. That’s really early.”
My tone lacked conviction, and he jumped on it. “Tell you what, I’ll be in front of your house tomorrow morning at six. If you come out, great. If you don’t, well … I’ll chalk it up to you being a bigger Yankee than me.”
He coughed when he said Yankee and I couldn’t help but laugh. “I’m a lot of things but a Yankee isn’t one of them,” I said.
“Whatever. We’ll see who’s tougher.”
“Tougher?” I asked, laughing even harder. “Who’s out here running when it’s 100 degrees?”
“A dumb ass,” he said, smirking.
I fake scoffed at him. “Watch your mouth, Father Paul.”
“What happened to Friend Paul?” he asked.
‘He’s in love with my angel of a sister,’ I wanted to say, but he was already running back across the street.
REEVALUATIONS
GRACE
I placed the two magnolia blooms on top of the headstone, saving the third for my mom and backed away slowly.
There’d be no singing to my family today. I could hardly even think of any words to say to them, let alone sing. I wanted to be near my children. I needed to be here, but I also felt compelled to sit as far away from Jonathan as possible.
I wiped the sweat from my forehead and looked around for some shade. A concrete bench I’d never noticed before sat under a large oak tree about 10 yards away. I couldn’t believe I’d never noticed it.
Walking over to it, the lush green grass that surrounded my family faded into a gradual brown. The thirsty grass crunched under my feet as I walked to the bench. I pulled out a book and opened it though I knew I wouldn’t actually read it. I’d read enough for one day.
Before reading Jonathan and Hope’s conversation, I’d told myself that it hadn’t meant anything, that it had been a one-time thing. A slip up. A mistake. By the third page, it had become clear that was not the case. When I couldn’t take any more, I placed it on Kate’s bed and left the house. I didn’t want to see it ever again. My perception – or misperception – of the life I’d had was obliterated. I’d been married to a man for 11 years, but I hadn’t known him at all.
From the little parts that I had read, I knew that she’d meant something to him. They had met at hotels. They’d met at her house. At least once, he’d even had her over to our house, cooking dinner for her when I’d taken the kids to see Kate in New York.
He’d been too busy to go with us. That had been his excuse.
I could tell from her messages that she’d known intimate details of our lives. She had know when I’d be busy with Karen’s Kitchen. She’d known where our kids went to school. He’d shared these things with her. I felt like she knew me well. Yet, I didn’t know her at all.
“Mind if I sit?”
The sound of Father Paul’s voice brought me back to the present and stilled the restless urge to scream that was brewing inside of me. “Go ahead,” I said, without looking at him but moving over to make room for him all the same.
“I missed you today,” he said.
The dog park. I’d never made it. I nodded unable to speak.
There’s a moment when you know you’re on the brink of a breakdown and the mere presence of someone else causes the dam to break. That was where I was at that moment. I’d barely been holding it together before he’d sat down with me. Now that I wasn’t alone, I could no
longer hold it in. Though I couldn’t understand how it was possible that there were any left, the tears fell.
He wrapped an arm around my shoulders and pulled me into his side. He didn’t shush me or tell me it would be okay. He didn’t do anything to help me feel better at all. He merely sat with me while I released it all.
When I was done, I gathered what was left of my dignity while I looked through bleary eyes at his jean clad legs. “Are you not working?” I asked, glancing in the direction of the church.
It was a Wednesday afternoon. He should be preparing for evening mass not hanging out in the cemetery, wearing jeans and holding up a desperate woman in the middle of a meltdown.
He dropped the arm that had been draped around my shoulders and moved to put a little more space between us. “No, I took the day off.”
“A vacation?” I asked. I hadn’t been to church in months and yet the thought of him not being there side-swiped me in the most surprising way.
“Something like that,” he said, his New England accent heavy with an undercurrent he was trying to hide.
I’d been so caught up in my own problems for so long that I sometimes forgot that other people had problems, too. As hard as it was for me to imagine, there was suffering in the world that wasn’t related to mine. “How long will you be gone?” I asked, wiping the last of the tears from my face.
“I’m not going anywhere,” he answered.
“But you’re on vacation?”
He shifted uneasily next to me. “No, I’m just taking a few days off to reevaluate some things.”
“What are you reevaluating?” I asked.
“Everything and nothing. ”
I nodded at his non-answer. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“This isn’t really the right time.”
“Please, can we talk about you?” I begged. “I want to think about someone else’s problems.”
He was quiet for a few seconds. “Okay. How about I tell you a story?”
“Yes,” I said in a hushed voice. Yes, make me forget.
“There was this boy, a loud boisterous boy that was full of life. He was born into a family that didn’t appreciate loud boisterous boys, and I’ll admit that he was a bit of a troublemaker.” He smiled as if that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. “He was another mouth to feed when they already had too many. So the family who had largely ignored him most of his life tossed him out to fend for himself.”
“At the age of twelve, this boy ran the streets of Roxbury, stealing to eat, and sleeping behind boxes in alleys. He learned to fight because he had to. He protected himself when he needed to. He did things that he didn’t even know he was capable of doing. Things he’d regret later though he thought there had been no other way at the time. He relied only on himself. No one came to his rescue and he didn’t need any one to save him. Or so he thought.”
“After about five years of living this way, the kid was tougher, but tired. He’d seen more than most people see during their entire lives. He was tired of fighting, tired of trying to find a way to stay ahead of the trouble that always seemed to find him.”
“One day he found himself in a small church on Blue Hill Avenue, hiding in a confessional of all places when a throat cleared on the other side of the lattice. It was ironic because a confessional was exactly where he should have been even if he was there for the wrong reasons. Not believing that there was an act of contrition powerful enough to cleanse his soul, the kid ran. And do you know what happened?”
I shook my head.
“The priest followed.”
“Did you catch him?” I asked.
“No. Father Russell did and talked some sense into the kid. For the first time in years, someone actually cared what the boy had been through. And because Father Russell listened, the boy also listened. Without judgment, Father Russell offered him an alternative. He gave him a home, and for the first time in his entire life, he had a safe place to live. Then he followed him to the church, and for the first time, he had a safe place to think. He followed him to somewhere much better than anywhere he’d been before.”
He stopped talking, and a few seconds passed before I realized that the story was over. “Is the kid okay today?” My voice hurt from a day’s worth of crying and came out as a croak.
“Very much so. He’s in a very good place actually,” he said, standing up. “Come on. It’s getting late. I’ll walk you to your car.”
As we walked past St. Vincent de Paul and the Madonna, I didn’t look back at the plots where I’d buried a piece of my heart. For the first time, I felt like there was a chance that it could grow back. Someday. Somehow.
Outside the gate, I saw Paul’s car parked behind mine. “Paul?”
“Yes.”
“If you’re not working, how did you know I was here?”
“Kate,” he said. “I was getting ready to drive over to San Antonio to pick up a friend from the airport, and I ran into her.”
“What did she tell you?” I asked.
“Enough,” he admitted, running his hand over the top of his short hair. “She’s not the enemy, Grace.”
“I know.” I was still furious with her, but I’d never been any good at staying angry with her. “So then I guess we know everything there is to know about each other.”
“Not quite,” he answered. “But soon. Will I see you at the dog park tomorrow?”
“I’ll try,” I said.
I still couldn’t make any promises, but something about the way he looked at me made me want to try.
ACQUIESCENCE
KATE
“Let’s get it all out of the way right now. Take care of all the business so that we can have a good time and not think about any of it.” Maddox gave me a serious look before taking a long pull off his bottle of beer.
I looked at him sideways. “What are you talking about?”
“Come on, Kate. You ran out of the office yesterday like your hair was on fire. You hid all day today. Something’s wrong. Let’s hear it.”
I sipped my margarita, attempting to stall. I would feel better after I talked to him, regardless of what he told me. Still, I was nervous. This was Jonathan’s best friend that I was talking to.
“Did you know that Jonathan was having an affair?” Straight and to the point. Though his reaction was slight, he stiffened in his chair. “You did.”
He leaned back and rubbed his hand down his face. “I suspected.” I’d suspected him suspecting so I wasn’t sure why I was surprised. Or disappointed.
Maddox had been Jonathan’s friend since college. But that also meant that he’d known Grace almost as long. I couldn’t understand how he could sit back and watch it happen, knowing that she would be devastated if she ever found out. “And you never said anything?”
“To Grace?” he asked. “Come on, Kate. Cut me some slack. He was my best friend.”
“And she wasn’t a friend? How long was it going on?”
“Look, he never actually admitted it, and I never asked. I didn’t want to know.”
I rolled my eyes at him, trying to resist the urge to punch him in the face.
“Look. It wasn’t my place to tell her,” he said almost apologetically. “I tried to talk to him about it once, but he told me to fuck off. I have a general policy of not interjecting myself into other people’s problems, especially when it involves their marriage.”
I couldn’t really blame him there, but I wasn’t so inclined at this point. “Do you know Hope?”
He shook his head. “No. Who’s that?”
“I found a chat string between him and some woman named Hope. I searched online for a Hope in Merriville but came up with nothing.”
“I don’t know,” he said, shaking his head, “but Kate, if you want my advice, and you probably don’t, let it go. It’s just going to eat you up. What’s the point now? What good are you going to accomplish by dredging up the past?”
He was right. What went on behind closed doors
wasn’t really any one’s business. So why was I now making it mine? I’d done enough damage already. I smiled and made a vow to myself to stop obsessing over Jonathan’s sleaziness.
I looked around the noisy Mexican restaurant and noticed for the first time a grandfather and granddaughter eating in the far corner. Her head was down as she colored on the paper-covered table. The grandfather also had a crayon in his hand, and they were both intent upon their art work. When the girl looked up, her eyes met mine. She smiled and pointed to her drawing with a proud grin across her face. For a moment, that smile erased all of my anxiety.
“You’re right,” I said. “No more talk about Jonathan tonight.”
He nodded happily. “Good. I finally got you to agree to a date, and so far it’s not looking like you’ll agree to another one any time soon.”
“Just friends, remember? That was the deal.” I reached out my hand to shake on it.
He groaned and shook his head. “You’re really going to try and hold me to it, too, aren’t you? I can’t shake on that.”
I dropped my hand on the table in defeat. “But we agreed.”
“I don’t remember any such deal,” he said just as our fajitas arrived. As the waiter placed our plates in front of us, I stared at the constellation of tiny freckles on Maddox’s neck. It was something I’d never noticed.
He cocked his head to the side and looked at me inquisitively. “What are you looking at?”
“You have a happy face on your neck. Right here,” I said gesturing to the same spot on my own neck. “I think he’s sticking his tongue out at me.”
He barked out a laugh. “Are you turning my moles into an ink blot exercise? If you want a closer look, I bet we can work something out.”
I rolled my eyes and huffed out an exaggerated sigh. “You have a one-track mind, you know.”
“It’s hard not to when you show up looking like that,” he said, waving his fork in my direction.
