Within the week we have a sort of routine. I don’t tend to see Maria in the mornings before I leave for class, but she’s about when I come back. Sometimes she’s reading, or journalling, or cleaning, but she’s always about in the apartment, almost like she’s waiting for me.
I have to admit, I like coming home to a not empty place. Is this what being married will be like?
And then comes Saturday. Andrew hasn’t been over all week. Not the strangest thing – I’ve seen him during the days and Wednesday night we had dinner at his place. I was a bit late – I don’t know what happened. I was speaking with Maria, telling her about our plan for the evening and then I was looking at her and suddenly it was later.
That’s happened a few times now. I’m wondering if I’m not sleeping well. I have been startling awake most nights this week. I keep thinking something is moving in the room.
I mention it to Andrew when we meet up for lunch on Friday.
“Want me to pick you up some melatonin?” he offers.
“Thanks, but I think I’m just gonna use the weekend to sleep in and see if that’s enough first.”
“A Saturday evening Mass kinda weekend?”
“Exactly.”
“Sounds good – I’ll pick you up by four-thirty….is Maria going to come too?”
“I mean, maybe? I still haven’t really gotten out of her where she stands with the Church…I think she’ll talk when she’s ready. Until then all I can do is pray and be around for her, right?”
Andrew reaches over to give my hand a squeeze, simply beaming at me.
“You are genuinely the most caring human I know.”
“Andy, come on.”
“I’m serious, Vi. You are so giving. I love that about you.” He brushes my hair from my face, and I smile, leaning into his touch.
I wonder how it might feel if those strong, gentle hands – hands that play guitar and write me proper paper letters and read a thousand books – could slide lower, hold me closer, dip into my clothes and find a new purchase.
I kill the thoughts with a quick prayer to the virgin mother – a trick I learned from a youth group leader in high school.
But anyway, Saturday comes.
“I think I’ll go to Church in the morning – besides, don’t you deserve some time alone with your beloved?” Maria asks without looking up from her project. She started a cross-stich yesterday. The fact she can do it with gloves on is wild to me – maybe they help?
“Right. Alone with several dozen other people, the saints, and God Himself.”
“There’s the car ride. And maybe he can play gentleman and take you for dinner afterwards.”
“It’s not playing if he’s actually a gentleman.” I sit down next to her on the couch.
“And he is?” Maria finally looks up from her work. “He’s good to you?”
“Oh, he’s amazing to me, Maria! He’s thoughtful, he’s attentive without being overbearing, He’s such a caretaker, you know? I feel…secure. Like, I feel like everything I do he’s right there, delighted that I’m doing it. No worries, no jealousy, no…anything. Just us.”
“Are things…going somewhere then?”
“Like, getting married somewhere? We’ve talked about it – and we both figure getting engaged should be a post-graduation thing but…yeah, I think so. I think I’m gonna marry him.”
“I see.” Maria sets her work down and reaches out for my hands, giving them a squeeze. “That’s wonderful that you’re so desired,” she says, smiling.
I almost argue the point. I almost try to insist it’s not about desire, it’s love. It doesn’t require desire to be real, it’s not about sex – then I remember this is Maria. She already knows. And she knows exactly what she’s saying by saying desire.
She knows how I want to be desired.
She remembers being freshly sixteen and flopped across each other on my bed while I’m crying because I was rejected.
“I just want to be pretty. I don’t even wanna be hot! Or cool! or freaking – I don’t know! I just want a guy to look at me and think that I’m-I’m pretty! That I’m worth knowing!”
“You are worth knowing. And you’re worth wanting. And a man is going to see you even better than I do someday. And he’ll desire you like God desires his Church.”
“Yeah because any stupid boy is gonna say something as sweet as that to me.”
“He will. He will because you deserve it. God will give it to you. I know he will.”
“Maria, you’re too good for me.”
“I know. Accept me anyway.” She booped my nose after that, setting me off giggling and weeping and pulling myself up to hug her properly.
“So, can I ask something?” I say, back in the present. “What’s up with the gloves? Is it part of your habit or something?”
“Oh, no, it’s not religious,” she says. “My hands are just very cold. I can’t bear to touch things with my skin.”
“Oh, medical, got it. Sorry.”
“You’re fine to ask. I understand it’s different.” She picks her project back up. “What time is Mass?”
“Four-Thirty.”
“Do you have much to do before then?”
“Not really, no…honestly? I’m pretty comfy right here.” I pull my legs up on the couch. “Mind if I hang?”
“Please do.” She smiles and her eyes crinkle her mouth opens ever so slightly, showing just a glint of teeth. It must be the brightness of the kitchen lights shining over the half wall into the living room, because I swear I’ve never seen real teeth that white.
I wanted it so badly to be the lights.
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“And they’ll know we are Christians by our Love,” I sing along with the congregation as the recessional ends.
Andrew and I sit for a moment and pray in silence. Well, the point is we’re praying in silence. My mind isn’t quiet and I’m sitting there asking God to quiet my mind so I can actually focus and pray but let’s be real, I’ve been doing that since we got here over an hour ago and I’m still unfocused. I have to just take comfort in that I offered my best I suppose.
“Hi! Am I interrupting?” Ellie’s voice cuts through the second I call it and make the sign of the cross.
“No, of course not, good to see you, Ellie,” Andrew smiles and puts an arm around me.
“Good to see you, Andrew! Hello, Violet.”
“Hi, Ellie.” I say, evenly and kindly. Evenly and kindly. Evenly. Kindly.
“I don’t want to waste your time, but I was wondering if maybe, Andrew, you would be willing to make some time next Thursday – so that’s a week from Thursday, not this Thursday – to do a talk with the boy’s confirmation group? It’s about chastity. And Father Ryland said he’d do it but also encouraged me to find someone, well, not called to the priesthood to do it so I was like ‘oh, duh, Andrew!’ Like, I could probably ask Mister Moley, but I think someone younger, like us, would resonate more with the kids, you know?”
“I know,” Andrew says, cutting off her prattle – her chatting…her talking. Her regular talking. “I think I can – can you text me details? Maybe if you don’t have someone to talk to the young women yet then, Violet could. What do you think, dear?”
“Oh, uhm –”
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“—I’m gonna talk to the girls! So, it’s all covered. I think that’ll be more relatable anyway,” she cuts in, making sure I don’t get a chance to even think about accepting or declining.
I wonder if Andrew can tell the way her eyes dart up and down or see the unspoken words they carry.
I wonder how many other people feel that way but aren’t so blatant as our dear youth coordinator, Ellie Jones.
“Perfect. Maybe I make plans with Maria then for that evening.” I say crisply.
“Oh, whose Maria?” Ellie asks, her gaze trained directly on me.
“An old friend of Vi’s who’s visiting while she apartment hunts,” Andrew fills in. “She’s only been here a few days but like, it’s so awesome getting to know more of Violet’s people. She’s really fantastic. Makes me appreciate the whole life she got to live before I was a part of it.”
“Oh, how sweet! Well, I’ll be praying for you both and your Maria. God bless!”
“Have a good weekend!” Andrew says. As soon as Ellie is away I stand up, get out of the pew, genuflect and I am gone.
“Hey!” Andrew grabs my hand when we’re outside. “What the heck? Are you okay?”
“No! That…” I sigh and tug my hand away. “Andrew I – I just…Forget it…can we go?”
“…I don’t know what else you wanted me to do. I had my arm around you, I offered up that you were a good choice for a virtue talk, I spoke highly of you!”
“You did everything right, Andrew! It’s not you!” I start walking towards the car and he quickly follows. As soon as we’re in the car I can feel my face getting hot with tears. “Andrew, it’s just…I love you.”
“I love you too, that’s not something I’ve ever doubted.” He reaches over and gives my hand a squeeze.
“I wish she didn’t know I was bisexual,” I say.
“I wish she knew to mind her business,” Andrew says. “As if it matters – you told her that in confidence when we were in high school! In youth group! Come on, you were looking for help and support and she’s still holding it against you? Six years later? How would she like it if someone implied her virtues were corrupt because she remembers people’s stumbling blocks too easily? Absolutely bullshit.”
“Andrew!”
“Hey, we’re out of the Church parking lot,” he laughs, and I try to smile, but it’s hard. Something feels too jolted, too unsettled. I recognize how much support and comfort he’s offering me; every word is full of its warmth.
So why do they hit me like ice cold pinpricks?
“Well, lesson learned, don’t be fifteen, don’t tell seniors who are junior youth group leaders things thinking they’re actually more mature than you, don’t coincidentally go to college within the bounds of the parish where that senior is gonna end up being the youth ministry coordinator,” I say, trying to shake my feelings.
“We could go to St. Paul’s instead,” Andrew offers.
“No, you love Holy Assumption,” I say. “Well, or at least you love Father Ryland.”
“Counterpoint, no Father Covey trying to convince me to become a priest.”
“Is he still doing that?” Why do I feel alarmed? Andrew did consider it, before college. But he always said he knows his calling is marriage now. But what if someone ever convinces him otherwise? I can’t go through it again.
“Only because he’s senile. Besides, Ellie’s right. I’m not made for the priesthood.” He smiles at me as he pulls to a stop at a red light. “I’m made for you.”
“I’m made for you.” I say, and the unsettling pinpricks return.
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We do go for dinner, but I head back to my own place after.
“Violet, what’s wrong?” Maria says as soon as I walk in the door, poking her head out of the kitchen and following me to the living room.
“So, do you remember Elizabeth Jones?” I ask.
“Does she not go by Ellie anymore?”
“Oh no, she still does.”
“Oh, because she still is clinging to the idea that it adds to her carefree and perky persona that she uses to ignore what a control freak tradcath who can’t find peace because she simultaneously needs to be better than everyone to feel holy, but refuses to ever change because that would be admitting she’s doing something wrong now, and also cannot genuinely work with anyone who she doesn’t perceive as being as good as herself?”
“…well shit,” I whisper.
“I don’t want to talk around the issue. I’m right, aren’t I?” Maria asks.
“Yeah, no, you are I just…fuck I don’t know why I’m surprised, who’s blunter than a nun?”
“An old nun. So, check back in in a few centuries,” Maria says.
“Just in time for you to be older than Sister Angelique,” I scoff and flop onto the couch. “Anyway, Ellie Jones? She’s the youth ministry coordinator at our Parish.”
“I think we need wine.” Maria says and disappears to the kitchen.
“We have wine?”
“I grabbed a bottle when I went grocery shopping. There’s a wine store downtown,” Maria calls back to me.
“Oh yeah, I’ve gone by it – I figured it was too expensive for me to breath in there,” I say.
“You just need to know where to look,” Maria responds, coming back in with glasses and a bottle she’s already uncorked. The glass is dark. Not black – green I think, just incredibly deep. The label is black though, with shining red and silver lettering in…French? I think French. Or maybe German? German would make more sense for Maria.
“Do you like red?” She asks.
“Oh yeah. You do too?” I ask. She nods and pours. We’ve never drank together. Not really. Communion wine, and a glass of whatever our parents were drinking only at the table and only at Christmas and Easter. I’m surprised she even has a concept of what she likes. How many experiences has she missed? Well, not missed. Just, elected to not have. I’ve chosen to not do lots of the “typical” college experience. And I’m doing just fine.
I take a sip of the wine. Oh, my goodness. It’s sweet, but bites at the end, but somehow stays floral. I wonder if it has honey in it? My mouth feels perfectly dry afterwards but not parched – just like I never took a sip at all. Not to mention it smells like berries on a summer day.
“Maria, this is perfect.” I tell her. She smiles and cradles her own glass.
“So, tell me about Ellie.”
“Right. So. Basically, she’s still doing her same nonsense and guess who still doesn’t meet her high standard?” I point to myself and roll my eyes. “And like, I could shake off that she has some weird complex about me wearing slacks to Church now and again, or brushing off her comments about my weight – oh she invited me to join a walking group last semester, fun fact – but today she asked Andrew to give a talk for the confirmation students on chastity and then implied I’m not virtuous enough for it but said it was because my experiences weren’t ‘relatable’ Gee, wonder what she’s talking about that my boyfriend’s experiences are relatable but mine aren’t?!” I take another deep drink. It’s got a little bit of a kick to it I think? Or maybe it’s more like a cinnamon taste? I like it.
“And Andrew just…listened to that?”
“No, he played it off – arm around me, talking about how I was so wonderful, suggesting I do a talk. Which is what gave her the opening to say more…bullshit in the first place. And then in the car – okay, and then in the car, he tried to like, talk about it and…and…I don’t know.”
“Do you not know? Violet, what happened?”
“Nothing bad, nothing that hasn’t happened before I just…He did everything right. He said the right things, he feels the right way, he’s never done anything that would make me feel lesser, because he doesn’t think I am…but then sometimes he’ll say stuff that makes me feel that way anyway…like my flaws are too much at the core of me to ignore. Like everyone is just minding their business…I don’t want him to mind his business or love me ‘anyway’.”
“You want him to love that part of you. You want it to actually feel as though loving you as you are means that. No worrying about if he can see your flaws, let that be for other people. Let it be that you have one person in the world who can look at you and see you like you shine with grace.”
“…yeah. Yeah I guess so.” I feel very quiet inside. I drink more wine. Maria brings a glass to her lips. She must be more of a sipper than I am because she’s hardly had anyway and I’m almost through a glass.
“Violet…you’re bisexual.”
“I know.”
“I love you.” I look up at her and see no judgement, no joking, nothing but sincerity in her eyes.
“I…love you too?” I do, don’t I? I don’t have siblings, Maria does but that’s…kind of a mess if I’m being honest. Maria is the dearest family I have. I love her.
“And that’s how you want it to go with Andrew, isn’t it? Not ‘but I love you.’ Not even ‘And I love you.’ Just I love you,” she says.
“Yeah…Yeah, it is.” I say. I finish my first glass. I think I finally get what a velvety finish is. “This stuff is good.”
“I’ll pick up more,” she promises.
“Oh yeah, I definitely love you.” I say and pour a second glass. “So, that’s the nonsense from tonight, but she’s been the youth minister for over a year.”
Maria leans in and there’s a spark of something excited in her eyes.
“Tell me everything.”
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I drink more than I should but it’s fine, I’m sleeping in tomorrow anyway.
And it gives a reason, I suppose. For the dreams.
There’s a breath lingering over me in my bed, whispering across my bare skin, trailing down my sides, my legs, between them. I reach out to feel who is there but there’s no one.
Maybe it’s because the breath is back on top of me, pressing to my lips and kissing me hungrily. I want to kiss back – I do kiss back. Desperate and hungry I can feel teeth scrape across my bottom lip, and I open up, letting my mouth fall open, at first to deepen the kiss and then to sigh and moan as those lips leave my mouth to kiss along my neck, sucking dark marks across it.
I finally get my arms around whoever this is, and two things become clear:
The woman on top of me is as cold as ice.
The woman on top of me is not a stranger.
I pull myself up to sitting to stare at Maria who is looking back at me with heavy lidded eyes and a face full of hunger. One hand goes to cup my cheek and the other to my chest, flicking over a nipple. She looks hungrier at seeing me let out a breathy moan.
“Let me have you,” she murmurs.
“Where’s Andrew?” I ask. The hunger is gone for a moment from her face but the ache at my core is stronger than ever.
“If he’s what you want, then just reach out and grab him.” She takes my hands in hers. She brings them to her face and kisses each of them softly before guiding them down.
They find their purchase in that familiar, long hair. Thicker than mine, but not as dark. It suddenly seems so easy to pull him down onto his back so I’m over him, straddling his hips and kissing him with that same hunger Maria had for me.
Unlike me, he still seems to be wearing pants at least. But I sit up to look at him, to run my hands down his chest – I’ve rarely seen it, only once or twice when swimming – and tug at the waistband of his pants, only teasing and implying.
I could have him.
“He’ll ask for you to have him before we’re done.” Maria murmurs in my ears and the idea sends heat shooting down through me.
I’m far more prepared for her kisses this time as she leans in. I brace myself with one hand on Andrew’s chest and the other on his face, covering his mouth so I can feel him groan and murmur to me as I grind down against him, feeling him harden against parts of me I rarely think to touch.
He keeps his hands to himself, and I can’t help but feel pleased with him for it. Good – he can use his hands on me when I tell him he’s ready to.
Maria though has hands all over me, feeling every inch of my skin as her mouth overtakes mine. Finally, a hand finds its way between me and Andrew, a finger teasing at my folds and it’s suddenly too much newness, too much feeling.
I grab her wrist. And she stops.
“When you’re ready, you can do nothing wrong here,” Maria tells me, one more soft kiss to my bruising neck and she’s gone.
Andrew looks up at me with wanting, desperate eyes I know he’d never dare look at me with when we’re awake.
Am I ever going to see him look like he wants me this way when we’re awake?
He’s gone too.
And the light is coming in through the gap in the curtains.