Catapult Alumni | Fiction

Faithful

A tale of letting go of things not meant for us

My evening run was a bust. I was getting soaked but wasn’t surprised. I had seen the storm clouds looming, felt the wind freshening. Still, I’d ventured out, hoping to get at least a mile or two in before the rains came. It had been a stressful day and I really needed to clear my head so I could start preparing for the weekend. I hadn’t gotten a quarter mile before the skies opened up and turned me back.

As I made my way back down the winding path that led home, I noticed a strange car parked outside my house. There was a woman on the front step. Unlike the car, she was familiar.

Is that… no, it can’t be.

She must have heard my footsteps crunching on the gravel, because she turned. Awash in the glow of the porch light, I could see her face clearly. It was her.

Damn.

“Jessica?” I questioned, though I knew the answer.

“Hi, Michael. Surprise!”

Yeah. Surprise. Lord, give me strength.

Jessica. I had tried to forget her over the years but now, here she was, standing on my doorstep, the small overhang offering little protection from the pouring rain.

“What are you doing here?” I asked.

“Oh, you know me,” she said casually, “I’m like a bad penny. I always turn up.”

I stood there staring at her for a moment, water trailing through my hair and winding its way down my face.

“Do you think maybe we could go inside?” she asked at last.

“Oh. Yes, of course.”

I opened the door and led the way inside.

“I know this is kind of unexpected,” Jessica said.

You can say that again.

“Yeah, it’s been, what, three years?”

“Give or take. Are you living alone now?”

“No. My housemate, Robert is out of town at a seminar. He’ll be back on Saturday.”

“Oh.”

She waited patiently, dripping steadily on the polished wood floor of the entryway.

“Let me get you a towel,” I grumbled.

“Thanks,” she smiled, rubbing her goose-pimpled arms, “I hope I haven’t come at a bad time. I wasn’t sure if I should bother you but, well, you always know how to fix things,” she explained, as if to relieve herself of guilt.

I let her babble apologetically while I rifled through the hall closet for some clean towels. I was becoming agitated. I could feel tension welling up inside me like the tears of a frustrated child. I hated feeling this way, feeling out of my element. I told myself it was the suddenness of her appearance, her uncanny ability to reenter my life just when I thought I could finally move on. Or maybe it was irritation at my own weakness when it came to her.

Please, Father, give me patience, I haven’t even heard why she’s here yet.

I closed my eyes, took a few deep breaths, and pushed my emotions aside. I pulled two towels from the shelf and brought them to her.

“I’d like to get out of these wet clothes, if you don’t mind. I’ll just be a minute,” I said, offering Jessica a seat on the couch.

“Sure.”

I went to my bedroom and quickly changed into jeans and a polo shirt. I grabbed another towel from my bathroom, rubbing my hair dry as I went back out to the living room. Jessica was sitting on the couch. She had draped one of the towels over her hair. It gave her the air of a nun and I almost laughed at the image – it certainly didn’t suit her. I took a seat across from her in my favorite old chair.

“Well, here we are. This is kind of, uh, shocking. We haven’t spoken in years and I’ve moved a couple of times. Yet, here you are,” I said slowly, weighing my words carefully.

“I know. I’m sorry I haven’t kept in touch,” she said, missing my point completely, “It wasn’t that hard to find you, though. Couple of phone calls. I just really needed to see you. I’m in a bad situation and you are the only person I can turn to. You’ve never let me down before,” she said, grinning.

“Okay. So,” I leaned back, crossing my arms over my chest, “what can I do for you?”

“So professional,” she teased, reaching over to playfully slap one of my knees.

I swallowed hard, and managed to offer her a small smile. She turned serious then. I’d always been annoyed by the way she did that, changed moods like a shift in the wind.

“I think it’s really over between Greg and me. Our marriage is just… we’re more like roommates. We never talk. I’m just so unhappy.”

I sighed inside, all kind hearted listening on the outside. I knew Greg. They had been married seven years. But how many times had she written or called me, telling me she was discontent with her marriage? How many times had I helped her sort things out? Jessica had always been a bit naïve, a bit impulsive when it came to love. We had met in junior high, lived in the same town, and I had seen firsthand how she flitted from boy to boy, madly in love one day, then off to a new conquest the next. I knew she was a good person on the inside. She was just… spontaneous.

The more she told me, however, the more alarmed I became. She was really serious this time. She went into great detail about how far apart they seemed to have grown, how their sex life had waned, how she felt lonely and forgotten. She wanted a fresh start, a chance to find happiness. Could I help her? Surely -she thought- I would have professional contacts to help her. That’s why she was here after all, wasn’t it? It wasn’t really me she was here to see.

“I don’t know, Jess,” I said finally, pacing the small room. “It’s not that simple, you know.”

Jessica stood and grabbed my hand, tugged me towards her. There was a look of pained innocence on her face, mixed with that underlying neediness.

“Please, isn’t there something you can do?”

She tugged on my hand again, pulling me infinitesimally closer. I looked into her eyes, deep blue like the darkest part of an evening sky. I could envision myself gathering her in my arms, kissing her, making her my own at long last.

With great effort, I stepped back, away from her, slipping my hand from her grasp.

“It’s late,” I blurted out, “you should go.”

“Go? Michael, I’ve left my husband. I don’t have anywhere else to go.”

My shoulders sagged. She wasn’t going to make this easy.

The next morning I awoke early. It only took a moment for the memories of the previous night to come flooding back. I crept out to the living room. Jessica was still asleep on the couch where she had insisted upon staying. I hadn’t argued.

Back in my room I threw on slacks and a clean shirt. I paused in front of the mirror for a moment, adjusted my collar, then went out to the kitchen to make coffee. I made no effort to be especially quiet and it wasn’t long before Jessica was standing bleary eyed in the kitchen doorway. She was wearing an oversized tee shirt and some socks I had found for her, her face scrubbed clean of makeup. She was more beautiful than she knew, and I was struck by the realization that I would always love her, despite my best efforts to the contrary. I sighed. That realization was only going to make it that much more difficult to send her away.

“Coffee?” I asked politely.

She nodded and I placed two filled mugs on the table along with a sugar bowl and some milk from the fridge. I took mine black but knew she would sweeten and lighten hers until it couldn’t really be considered coffee anymore.

“Thank you,” she yawned, taking a seat.

“Sorry I don’t have much to offer in the way of breakfast foods. My grocery delivery comes later today.”

“It’s okay. I’m not really hungry anyway.”

I sat down across from her. Table for two. It could have been romantic under other circumstances, with different people. She took a sip of her coffee and looked at me.

“So, have you thought about it?”

“Yes.”

“And?”

Instinct compelled me to help Jessica. But I couldn’t keep putting my emotions aside, couldn’t keep fighting this battle with myself. I would weaken, I would lose. I knew I had to finally tell her the truth, tell her why I could no longer be the one she always turned to when she needed a shoulder to cry on.

“Jess,” I began, “there’s something I need to tell you. You might not like hearing it but, well, I have to say it.”

“Is it going to cause a problem that I stayed here last night?”

“No, that’s not it. I need to tell you that I can’t help you. Not now. Not ever again.”

My heart thundered in my chest. How many times had I wanted to tell her? How many times had I backed down?

“What? But you…”

“I’m in love with you.”

She froze and I continued, “I’ve been in love with you practically since we first met.”

“Michael, that’s not funny. “

“I’m not joking.”

“You can’t be in love with me, or any woman! You’re… you’re a…”

“A priest. I know. Crazy, isn’t it?”

“We’ve been friends for so long, for all these years and you never once said anything like this.”

How could I?

“And I’m sorry to have to tell you now, like this. Just listen, please.”

She stood up. I followed.

“You wouldn’t perform my wedding ceremony,” she said slowly, understanding for the first time.

“No. I couldn’t.”

“You can’t love me,” she laughed, incredulous.

“Why not?”

“You’re. A. Priest,” she said pointedly, as if that explained it all.

“I’m still a man, still a human being. I took a vow of celibacy, I didn’t shut off my heart. I can’t be around you. I’m not strong enough. And God knows I’ve prayed for that strength many times.”

Our voices grew louder, we circled around each.

“This,” she struggled for the right word, “your feelings, is why you moved away?”

“Yes! When you wrote me and told me you were moving to my parish, I couldn’t continue there. I couldn’t have you in my congregation, hear your confessions.”

“This is insane,” she said, running her hands through her hair.

“Tell me about it.”

“Well, now what?”

I had spent a long time last night thinking of the answer to that very question, praying for guidance.

“Now you go home. You leave me to live my life as I’ve chosen it. If you need the Church’s guidance, go to your own parish priest and tell him what you’ve told me.”

She didn’t say anything.

“You’ve already done that, haven’t you?”

Her silence gave me the answer.

“I’m not surprised. Annulments are very difficult to get these days. I can’t help you.”

The silence stretched before us, filling the room. Finally, she spoke, shattering the quiet and making me flinch.

“So, that’s it?”

“That’s it.”

“You can’t help me because you’re in love with me.”

I held her gaze but said nothing.

“But,” she said, a pleading note creeping into her voice, “You’ve always been there for me.”

I could see tears welling in her eyes. I closed my own for a moment, shutting out the image.

“Yes. I’m sorry. But I can’t be around you. I can accept that there’s a hole in my heart that will never heal. I can only hope that in time, away from you, it will at least scar over.”

“You must know, I never had any idea.”

“You saw what you wanted to see.”

Jessica’s hand shot out and she slapped my face. Hard.

“How can you say that?”

I glared at her, returning her enraged gaze.

“Because it’s true.”

With a shriek, Jessica stormed out of the kitchen. She grabbed her jeans from the living room chair and yanked them on. Snatching up her purse and the rest of her things, she headed for the front door.

“Jess, wait!”

I ran after her, grabbing her arm. She shook me off, pushed me away. Out the door, down the steps, into her car. The car roared out of the driveway, spewing gravel and grass in its wake.

I stood there for a long time, watching the spot where Jessica had disappeared from view. For the life of me, I had always imagined that this moment, the moment when she would be gone forever, would be agony. Instead, it felt right somehow. I felt a weight lifted off of me. I knew I should feel guilty for turning away a soul in need of guidance but I didn’t. For the first time in a long time, I felt free.

That night I dreamed of Jessica. We were walking along a quiet river, her fiery red hair gleaming in the sunlight. She smiled at me. We came to a dock where a rowboat was tied and I climbed into it. I turned back to help Jessica into the boat but she untied it instead, letting the rope fall into the water.

The current increased and the boat drifted away from the dock. I seemed to be moving in slow motion, unable to grab the pylons in time to stop the boat’s progress. I drifted downstream away from Jessica. She gave me that little wave of hers, raising her hand slightly and waggling her fingers. I drifted away.

I awoke with a start, the darkness of room a stark contrast to the brightness of the dream.

“Please, Lord,” I prayed, “let her set me free. Let it be over.”

A month passed quickly. I kept blessedly busy with weddings and baptisms and twenty seven year-olds prepping for their First Communion. I felt like I was undergoing a renewal myself, a rebirth. Several of my parishioners had noticed the change and had remarked upon it. It made me wonder what I had been like, if I even knew who I was before.

But when I came out of the chapel late Thursday night and saw Jessica standing there, I felt it all crash in on me again. I didn’t think I could possibly have the strength to send her away again.

“Jessica?” I said, swallowing hard.

“Hello, Michael.”

“Uh…”

“Look, I just came to say one thing. I’m moving back to Jersey. I’m divorcing Greg.”

I didn’t know what to say. Congratulations didn’t seem to be in order.

“I just wanted to tell you, you were right. About me. Deep down I… I always knew that we were more than friends. I was wrong to take advantage of your feelings. I just wanted to tell you that.”

“It’s all right. I’ve already forgiven you.”

“I’ve been absolved, have I?” she spat, arching her eyebrows.

“Don’t be angry, please.”

“The only person I’m angry with is myself,” she shrugged.

I couldn’t solve that problem for her so I said nothing.

“Well,” she continued, “I guess I should be going then. I didn’t want to leave town without saying goodbye.”

“I’ll always pray for you, Jess.”

She smiled at that, at least.

“I know you will.”

Our goodbye was a bit awkward. A hug seemed like too much, a handshake too little. In the end we just clasped hands for a moment. She walked to her car, turned and gave me that little wave of hers. Then she was gone.

I took a deep breath and looked up into the dark sky. A shooting star streaked across the ebony blanket above me. Coming at that moment, I took it as a sign of God’s forgiveness.