My Favorite Sin

by Lina Langley

  “Worried?”

  “Yes,” I say. I sit down on the bed, my legs crossed under me. “I thought I would feel happier.”

  “And how do you feel?”

  I exhale heavily through my nose. “Who is the patron saint of doubt?” I say as I bite the inside of my cheek.

  He laughs quietly. “It’s harder when it’s real,” he says. “It might have just made you realize everything that was at stake.”

  I close my eyes. “But this is what I wanted,” I say.

  “Maybe,” he says. “But desire and faith are not the same thing. If you’re not feeling the call, then a path toward priesthood might not be right for you.”

  I set my jaw. “I don’t know how I feel,” I say.

  “That’s okay,” he replies. “You’re young. You don’t have to choose your path in life quite yet.”

  I swallow. “No, I don’t think I made myself clear,” I say. “I want to be a priest. I just don’t know how I feel about it.”

  He laughs again. “You made yourself perfectly clear,” he says. “I’m going to share something personal with you, but I expect you’ll keep it between us.”

  “Of course,” I say.

  He clears his throat before he starts speaking. “I considered priesthood,” he says. “When I’d just gotten out of university. Right before I was set to go off, I met this girl. She was beautiful and smart. She could always make me laugh. I decided not to go, convinced I was going to marry her and I could serve God just as well as a married man.”

  I wait. He wears a wedding band, but everyone knows his wife died a decade ago. The golden band feels like it might as well be part of his body.

  He exhales heavily as he continues. “We didn’t get married, of course. She wasn’t interested. As for me, I thought I’d made the worst mistake of my life. A few years later, I met the woman who would become my wife for twenty years. I learned two important things then.”

  “I’m sorry,” I say, hating how whiny my voice sounds. “I’m feeling pretty anxious and I’m having a hard time extrapolating.”

  He laughs. “I’m not surprised,” he said. “The first thing I learned was that I could find the right path. The second one was that I needed to give myself time to get there.”

  I lick my lips. “What if I don’t have time?”

  “Then there’s your answer,” he replies. I can picture him leaning back on his chair and smiling, his brown eyes glimmering. “Would you like to set up an appointment for tomorrow?”

  “I, uh, sure,” I say. “How about nine o’clock?”

  “Let me check,” he says. I can hear him tapping the keys on his keyboard. “That should be okay. See you then.”

  “Bye, Lawrence,” I reply, a smile on my face. “See you then.”

  CONTINUE

  Chapter two

  I take a deep breath. I need to deal with the here and now, not worry about a hypothetic problem. I haven’t even made a decision yet and I need to deal with what’s happening in my life right now.

  I step out of my bedroom, ignoring how cold my clothes feel as they cling to me. Montgomery is in the living room, flipping through channels on the TV. His feet are on the coffee table and he barely even looks up at me.

  “Can we talk?” I ask.

  “You’re talking,” he replies, never taking his gaze off the TV.

  I sit down next to him. He turns to look at me. “You’re going to ruin the furniture.”

  “Since when do you care about the furniture?”

  “I don’t,” he replies, flashing me a smile. “I just like watching you squirm.”

  “Great,” I reply, crossing my arms over my chest. “Montgomery, can I ask you something?”

  He mutes the TV as he nods. He hasn’t insulted me yet, but I know him well enough to realize he’s edging toward it.

  I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Do you always have to be such an asshole?”

  “I don’t have to be,” he replies. “I just enjoy it.”

  “Great,” I reply. “Well, good thing we got that cleared up.”

  He cocks his head. He’s still watching me. “Did I hurt your feelings?”

  I laugh dryly. “I don’t think you could hurt my feelings,” I reply. “But you can definitely try. I just…”

  He has twisted his body so he’s facing me. He’s tying up his hair while he’s looking at me, waiting for me to say something else. Normally, I wouldn’t even think about telling him the truth, but I don’t know if I can deal with his hostility right now.

  I pinch the bridge of my nose. “I can’t deal with this right now, okay?”

  “You can’t deal with what?”

  “You,” I reply, not looking at him. “I can’t deal with it. I already have a lot on my plate and I don’t have the emotional bandwidth to deal with your petty insults and jabs.”

  He furrows his brow. “My insults are top notch.”

  I shake my head and sigh. “Forget it,” I say. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”

  He tuts. “Fine,” he says. “I’ll lay off. What’s bothering you, choirboy?”

  I scoff. “Do you really want to know?”

  “Yes,” he says. “I find your problems extremely interesting.”

  I know he’s only going to make fun of me if I decide to open up, but I don’t see what other choice I have here. “I got in,” I say.

  “Seminary, right?”

  “Yes, Montgomery,” I reply and roll my eyes. “Seminary.”

  “Shouldn’t you be happy about that?”

  I nod. “Yeah,” I say. “That’s what I keep telling myself.”

  He watches me, saying nothing for what feels like a very long time. “But you’re not,” he finally says.

  “I don’t know if I’m happy,” I reply, licking my lips. “I feel like I’m freaking out, I don’t know. Like all of my life has led up to this decision which isn’t right for me.”

  “But you aren’t even there yet,” he says, his brow furrowed. If I didn’t know any better, I would think he looks concerned.

  “Right,” I say. “And this is the rest of my life. I need to make a decision.”

  “Right now?”

  “No,” I say, shaking my head. “But in the next couple of weeks. Might as well be right now, as far as I’m concerned.”

  “Little choirboy is depressed,” Montgomery says quietly.

  I scoff and shake my head. “I shouldn’t have said anything,” I say and bite my lower lip. I don’t know why I thought this was a good idea.

  “Sorry,” he says. “It’s just a hard habit to break out.”

  “I bet,” I say, looking him up and down. “I’m going to go get out of these wet clothes.”

  “You do that,” he replies. “Look, Alex, you don’t need to bail out on being a priest for life. You probably just need to let your hair down.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Go to a rave,” he replies. “Have casual sex. Go to a bathhouse, I don’t know. Get a fleshlight.”

  I blink. “I didn’t even realize the depths of your perversion.”

  “You don’t even know a half of it,” he says, a smirk on his face. “Two weeks of partying. Then you can be a man of God for the rest of your life.”

  “You mean celibate,” I say and bite my lower lip. I didn’t expect him to do much other than listen—and maybe insult me. But maybe his advice isn’t bad, regardless of the source.

  He playfully punches my shoulder. “Yes,” he says. “Of course I mean celibate.”

  CONTINUE

  I can’t sleep. The rain has stopped, mostly, but I can still hear raindrops falling from the roof and onto the asphalt belt. The wind is whipping the trees back and forth. It’s so strong it feels like it’s shaking our building. I normally enjoy rain, especially because this island tends to be so dry and hot all the time, but right now, I’m struggling to find anything to enjoy about it.

  It feels dangerous, like it’s here to taunt me about what’
s yet to come. Whenever I’m feeling unsettled, I pray. It helps, normally. Right now, I don’t want to do it. It feels like I would be disappointing God by trying to talk to him. Not that I think he’s going to say anything back, of course, I’m just… fuck. I’m so lost.

  I check the clock on my nightstand. It’s an old-school clock, with twin alarm bells on the top to wake me up in the morning. The face isn’t even backlit, it’s that old. I have to take my phone out of my pocket and turn the screen on to shine a light on it before I can read it. Half past four in the morning and not a wink of sleep.

  I keep tossing and turning. I can feel how tired I am, in my muscles and in my head, even in my face. I know I’m not going to get any sleep, though. Not until I tire myself out, at least. Overthinking isn’t helping. I get out of bed, open the closet door and walk into it. I don’t want to turn on the light because it’s blinding in this small space, so I look for my swimming stuff in the dark with only my hands.

  I pull some clothes off a hanger and it instantly proves to be a bad idea. The railing must have come off the wall, because all of my clothes fall on the floor instantly. I manage to jump back before I’m pinned under a pile of clothes and the metal rod, but it gets my foot and it makes me yelp. The thing hits me hard and soon I’m sitting down on the carpeted floor, looking at my foot for signs of damage.

  It’s dark here and the impact of the rod against my bare foot made my eyes well up with tears. I’m instinctively holding my foot; vaguely aware I should be wiping the tears away so that I can see it. I don’t think—or at least I hope—I’m not seriously hurt, but it’s not like I can see a fucking thing.

  I can hear someone walking into my room. It has to be Montgomery, but my brain barely has time to register he’s in my room without knocking before he turns the light on in the closet. He’s towering over me and I can’t see his expression.

  Any other time, I would have told him to fuck off. Right now, I’m too preoccupied to do that.

  “Yo, did you die?”

  “Not quite yet,” I say. “I was trying to take clothes off a hanger and destroyed my closet in the process.”

  “Fun stuff,” he replies.

  I’m blinking away tears and looking at my foot. He sits down next to me, on the floor and on top of all my clothes. He leans forward and grabs the metal rod to roll it away from me.

  “Did you break it?”

  “I don’t think so,” I say. “But I don’t know.”

  Now that a little time has passed since the blow, I can focus on him. He’s wearing a black shirt that looks to be four times too big for him and his hair is pushed away from his face with a gray headband. His legs are bare and very close to my own.

  “Let me see,” he says.

  I blink. “You want to see my foot?”

  “You already woke me up,” he says, rolling his eyes. “You might as well let me see if I can help.”

  “Why would you want to?”

  He laughs. “Right?”

  I can tell him I’m not going to show him my foot, but that seems like it would be unnecessarily hostile. Montgomery might be an asshole most of the time, but I think he’s trying to help. I twist my body so that I’m facing him and extend my leg so it’s on his lap.

  “It’s red,” he says.

  I smile. “Yes, thank you, doctor.”

  He leans down a little to take a look at it. I can feel his breath on my skin. I resist my first instinct—I think jerking my foot away from him might annoy him, but I don’t even think I’m physically capable of it. He wraps his hand around my foot without warning, which makes me groan. It hurts, but his hand is warm and big, and there’s something comforting about this. “Sorry,” he says. “I needed to make sure none of your bones were sticking out.”

  I blink and then nod slowly.

  “Seems like you’re okay,” he said. “Just rice it.”

  “Sorry, what?”

  “You know, rest, ice, compression and elevation,” he says. “Stays off it, ice it, elevate it and wrap it to decrease any swelling. I think I might have bandages in my room if you want me to wrap it.”

  I stare at him. I’m surprised he would do that. I’m surprised he would do anything for me. “Uh, I guess,” I say. “This is so stupid. This all started because I couldn’t sleep and I was going to go swimming.”

  “At four in the morning?”

  “It helps me think,” I reply.

  “And we all know you need all the help you can get.”

  “Hey,” I say. Unfortunately, I can’t find it in me to be as annoyed as I want to be about this.

  “Swimming should be okay,” he says. “The problem is getting there. You don’t want to walk.”

  I bite my lower lip. Fuck, everything is going wrong lately. “Right,” I say.

  “I can give you a ride?”

  “To the beach? At this time?”

  “You must have missed the part where I told you this, but I’m already awake,” he says. He’s smiling at me. “And honestly, a swim sounds nice.”

  “You want to come with me,” I say, a little stunned. “In this weather?”

  “I mean, unless you have a problem with that,” he says. “It sounds like an adventure.”

  I bite my lower lip. He’s just offering to give me a lift and I don’t even have to spend any time with him once I get in the sea. I can just swim away from him. “Uh, no,” I say. “That sounds like a kind thing to do.”

  He doesn’t say anything for a minute. “Sure, I guess,” he replies, then gets to his feet. “Five minutes. Then we’re going.”

  I stand up, hop on my right leg and start to get dressed.

  CONTINUE

  I think I’ve been on the back of Montgomery’s bike only once before. It’s a little thing, totally beautiful, ridiculously noisy. Perfect for the infrastructure of the island, with the winding and small roads. There’s no need for anyone to have a car or a bike here, of course, since it’s small and there’s a bus going around the island every hour anyway. I don’t need to be on Montgomery’s bike, but I think it would be a dick move to back out now. I don’t want to hold on to him, so I lean back and hold on to the seat. I must look ridiculous. He’s saying something, but luckily, I can’t hear him over the sound the bike is making.

  The beach is only a minute away like this. The wind has stopped being quite as intense. Montgomery parks his bike next to a half-wall near the boardwalk. “Sorry, bud,” he says as he turns his neck to look at me. “This is as far as the bike will go. You’ll have to walk the rest of the way.”

  “That’s fine,” I say, though I have a nagging suspicion that it is not fine and I should have stayed at home in the first place. “Thanks for the lift.”

  He nods and gets off the bike. He’s wearing a bathing suit and his pajama shirt. He’s also wearing closed-toe shoes—he told me I would have to, too, just in case. I didn’t understand what he was talking about, but I wasn’t going to question him.

  I get off the bike as he kills the lights. He turns to me, his face expressionless. “Do you want me to help you?”

  “Help me with what?”

  “With getting to the water,” he says.

  I swallow. I have no idea how he’s going to attempt to help me.

  “Sure, I guess.”

  “No, I got it.”

  He’s already helped me considerably. It would just be rude to shake him off, when it’s clear he’s trying to make my life easier. Plus, I do need help. I just wish I didn’t.

  He nods and approaches me. He’s standing next to me. He opens his mouth to say something but seems to think better of it. He grabs me by the waist, bringing me close to him. I knew he was going to help me, but I didn’t expect him to do that. My eyes widen and my heart starts to beat fast.

  “Put your hand on my shoulder,” he says. “It’ll be easier for you to get to the water this way.”

  I do as I’m told. We’ve never been so physically close to each other, and the fact that
he’s doing this in the first place is a little disconcerting. We approach the boardwalk slowly, a little clumsily, and there are a few times when it feels like one of us is going to fall.

  My throat is a little dry as we get closer to the water. The boardwalk feels immeasurably long. We get on the sand and he lets go of me suddenly, as if he has just realized what he was doing.

  I put my foot on the sand and groan. “Montgomery?”

  “What is it, choirboy?”

  I roll my eyes. “Can I ask you something?”

  “Aren’t you already asking me something?”

  I sigh. “Forget it.”

  He tuts. “You give up so easily,” he says. “What is it?”

  “I don’t know,” I reply. “I guess I just can’t figure out why you’re being so nice to me?”

  He seems startled for a second, then laughs wryly. “Right,” he says. “Because I have some hidden agenda.”

  “No,” I say, then lick my lips. “I mean, maybe. Fuck, I don’t know. You’ve just never been nice to me before.”

  He scoffs. “That’s not true,” he says. “You just don’t like my brand of nice. That’s not my fault.”

  “So I’ve been wrong about you all along?”

  He smirks at me. “Yes,” he says. “Have you never been wrong before?”

  I shake my head. “Rarely,” I say, hoping he’ll hear the irony in my voice. He throws his head back and laughs. Maybe this won’t be so bad after all.

  CONTINUE

  I look him up and down. Even though it’s dark and I can’t really see his expression, I feel like he’s making fun of me. Maybe he’s going to say he was just fucking around when he said he wanted to help me or maybe he’s going to hold it over my head and I’m going to owe him a favor, which would definitely be worse.

  “No,” I say. “Thanks. I got it.”

  “Suit yourself,” he replies as he starts to walk away.

  I have to hop on one leg to catch up to him. I’m sure I look ridiculous, but luckily, it’s dead this early in the morning. “I mean, you’ve already done so much for me,” I say, wincing a little at how silly it sounds.