“Did you believe him?”
“I did. To believe anything else. . .would have. . .I don’t know.” I shook my head, not liking the yucky sensations rising in me.
“And what did your mother say to that?”
“She smiled and we all hugged.” I twisted my left foot, kneading the pad into the carpet. “But it didn’t. . .”
“It didn’t what?”
“It didn’t make it okay. I still felt. . .off.”
“That was your gut.”
“It happened again a month later. He gave us the same reason. And. . .I had been a little sick that week. But. . .”
“Your gut didn’t feel good.”
“And he came again and again. . .but it would be two or three weeks in between his visits, so. . .it seemed. . .I don’t know.” I fisted and unfisted my hands. “I would lock the door. He would still find a way to get inside. I would put something in front of the door. He would still find a way.”
Fuck.
“I couldn’t think of anything to stop it. After a while, my mother would always roll her eyes in the morning when I told her. Once, I just. . .I just blurted out that. . .maybe he was. . .trying to touch me or something.” I touched my chest. “I felt it. . .deep. . .deep. . .in my chest. I just. . .”
Cain remained quiet and still. No judgement covered his face. I’d never told anyone this stuff before. It was odd to even confess these things to him. In my family, we kept moments like this to ourselves. What happened in the house, stayed in the house.
Cain’s voice broke through the quiet. “What did your mother say after you told her that?”
“She laughed at me and said I was being a drama queen. That nobody wanted my little body. But. . .”
“But what?”
“She never. . .looked at me the same after that. She never hugged me again. She never said I love you. Sometimes, jealousy was in her eyes.” I shook my head. “No.”
“No?”
“It couldn’t have been jealousy. Right?” My eyes watered. “No. I was a kid. I don’t mean that. She was a good mom.”
My heart ached. “But. . .there was something in her eyes. I just. . .shouldn’t have even said anything. It all changed after that.”
“Phoenix.”
Disgusted with myself, I walked off to the living room and stood by the couch. “I’m done playing this game.”
None of this matters anymore. Why am I even talking about it?
A minute of silence passed.
Watching me, Cain remained in his chair. “Your stepfather always said what we did?”
Bile rose in my throat. “W-why. . ?”
“Why what?”
I walked away from the couch, not knowing where I was going, but happy Cain didn’t make me come back.
Noah stopped chewing my top and wagged his tail at me.
I was going to pet the dog, but suddenly I didn’t even want to have anything come into contact with my skin. I turned away and walked off in another direction.
Cain’s voice held concern. “Why what, Phoenix?”
“I’m done talking about me.”
“You’re not.”
“I am.” My throat went dry. “Cut me if you need to.”
I went to his bookshelf and kept my back to him. However, I never checked out the books’ titles. Due to my watering eyes, it was all a blurry vision of brown in front of me.
You better not cry. You’ve cried enough today.
Memories of Russel and my mother entered my mind. Every now and then, I caught a vision of my brother. Only a toddler at the time, he’d been my only source of love and comfort. I thought about how I would feel so alone, and he would stumble over and hug me.
Cain’s words disrupted my thoughts. “Do you know what a seminarian is?”
My voice came out scratchy. “No.”
“It’s a man who believes he’s called to the Roman Catholic priesthood.”
“O-kay.” It was odd, but his voice comforted me. My nervousness settled down. Still keeping my back to him, I hugged myself.
Movement stirred behind me.
His voice came closer. “I was a seminarian.”
Shock hit me.
“You were going to be a priest?” I spun around.
To my surprise, he stood two feet from me. “A true seminarian hears the Lord speaking to him. And I was sure, the Lord called to me. At least that was what my mother said. She drilled it into my head all my life. And I was so eager to respond to God’s calling.”
I swallowed down more shock.
“Before my parents died, I lived in the seminary. And my whole life was about holiness, human virtue, and generous service.”
Stunned, I whispered, “You?”
“Me.”
Mr. Jack-His-Dick-With-Blood wanted to be a priest? Maybe, there is no god.
He grinned. “My days and nights were prayer and sound piety. A devotion to the Blessed Virgin Mary and a profound love for the Church.”
“Did you like it?”
“It didn’t matter if I liked it. My mother told me to do it. My father agreed.” He stepped forward, shifting the two feet of space between us to one foot. “I was faith and loving obedience. I was a committed disciple of Christ. My parent’s thoughts and God’s calling was what mattered to me the most, not my enjoyment.”