He lets my words stagnate for a minute, then he exhales. It sounds like he’s been holding his breath for the past ten years.
“I’m sorry, Jade,” he whispers, like he’s confessing a crime.
Then I hear him unzip his raincoat followed by the rustle of him shrugging out of it. His back is still to me, and I’m not sure why. Or maybe I do. He can’t look me in the face and tell me what he has to. I can’t imagine what could be so bad Torrin can’t look me in the eye and confess whatever it is.
“It’s okay,” I say again because it is. Once upon a time, I had the love of a really wonderful person. That’s more than most people can claim.
His shoulders tense at my words as he hangs his jacket over the back of the chair. He’s dressed in a dark, short-sleeved shirt. Torrin was never much of a black fan. He used to live in faded jeans and colored tees. It looks like darkness has touched him too though. I wonder how deep its claws have gotten into him.
“I thought you were gone.” This time it’s not a whisper—the words spill from his mouth like he’s cursing them.
The bedrail is sticky from my palm sweating. “I know.” I have to pause because those two words feel like I’ve just recited the Bill of Rights in one breath. “It’s okay.”
He stares out the window for another minute. The city lights don’t seem as bright as they did when I woke up. The sparkle’s been taken out of them.
Finally, he turns toward me. Slowly. Like he’s fighting a herd of wild horses pulling him the other way. His head is bowed, and his arms are at his sides, his hands open and his palms facing me.
At first, all I notice is how perfect he is. Standing in front of me ten years later. The boy I remembered is inside the man in this dark room with me. His dark hair is falling into his eyes, and his jaw is locked the way it’s been most of the night.
It isn’t until I lower my gaze from his face that I see it. The collar. His is black with one square of white nestled below his Adam’s apple, but a collar is a collar—an object meant to control and restrain its wearer.
Instead of answering my questions, it brings on a fresh landslide of them.
My gaze lowers to the black button-down shirt, the matching slacks, and the dress shoes. I can’t make any of it make sense.
“Why are you dressed like a priest?” The words don’t sound like mine, but no one else in this room could have said them.
His eyes meet mine. “Because this is what I am.”
The world is spinning faster than normal. My room is at the vortex of it. I replay my question. I replay his answer. I can’t make them agree.
“No, you’re not.” I feel my forehead crease.
He exhales slowly and moves closer. “Yes. I am.”
My heart is beating against my breastbone so hard, it hurts. “You’re lying.”
Torrin doesn’t stop until he’s beside my bed again. It’s the closest he’s been to me tonight. He’s close enough I can make out his scent, and it’s the same one I remember. It takes me back to that last night we were together, when I felt surrounded by that smell as I lay below him in his bed. The way it seemed to envelop me like nothing could cut through it.
“I’m telling the truth.” His eyes travel to the monitors on the other side of my bed. His brow furrows at one of them. “I finished seminary a year ago. I’m the priest at St. Marks.”
St. Marks. I remember it. I remember driving by it and admiring the stained glass windows and gothic architecture. Never once had I driven past it and imagined Torrin being the priest of it one day.
One part of me hopes the drugs pumping through my veins are strong enough to cause hallucinations because maybe then this isn’t real. Maybe he isn’t really dressed like a priest and admitting he’s one. A hallucination seems more real than believing Torrin has become a priest.
“You had to practically be dragged to mass every week. You’d sneak out of Sunday school to spend it making out with me in the church parking lot.” I lift my brow at him. He lifts his own brow back. “I thought you would have become a baby seal clubber before a priest.”
He moves another foot closer until his belt is almost touching my bedrail. I want to touch him, but I’m not sure I can. I’m not sure if it’s allowed or if I’m even capable of it anymore.
“Back then, so did I, but like you said, you’ve changed.” His shoulders lift. “So have I. This is who I am now.”
I don’t know what to say. Are congratulations in order? An apology? An acceptance? I don’t know. All I know is that I feel like I’ve been saved from one prison only to be tossed into a different one. Life feels no different now that I’ve been “rescued.” I still feel trapped. I still feel alone. I still feel like I can never trust or be close to another human being. I still feel like the girl I was is dead. I still don’t know if I want to spend the next sixty years as the woman I’ve been forced into.
“Your heartbeat—it’s too fast.” Torrin’s eyes narrow on the machine monitoring my heart. “Try to calm down, Jade.” He looks at the door then at the nurse’s call button.
I take a deep breath. The beeps don’t slow down. “I was found less than twenty-four hours ago and just found out my boyfriend became a priest.” I try another deep breath. This one doesn’t help either. “It’s a lot to take in.”
Torrin can’t stop watching the heart rate monitor. “I’m upsetting you. I’ll leave.” He backs up a few steps and stops. “I just wanted to see you. I had to see you.” His jaw tightens like something I can’t see is flashing in front of him.