Page 36 of Drag You Down
Was it only because he thought I’d like it? Or is it supposed to mean something more?
I turn it over, and I freeze as I see the small engraving on the back of it. Like the watch, it has a simple inscription: the date I met Gabriel.
Will it always haunt me?
I swallow hard. It needs to go. I need to confess.
My heart is heavy as I turn for the door, and my steps are heavier as I force myself to walk into the hall. I knock politely on Father Zachariah’s door, and one of his wives, Sarah, answers it.
She smiles at me, but it’s a nervous smile. Ever since the fire alarm, they’ve all been treating me differently.
I’d be treating me differently, too.
The Devil came for me, I’d said.
“Levi! What a pleasant surprise.” Her tone tells me it’s not. “What can I help you with?”
My words stick in my throat. “I need to speak to Father Zachariah.”
The crucifix continues to dig into my palm, the chain gathered up around it, as I keep my fingers closed around the gift.
I’m going to have to tell him the truth.
I’m going to have to tell him everything.
But what if this sin is unforgivable? What if he casts me out instead?
Maybe that would be better.
Better than being plunged into the dark, sobbing for the light.
“I’ll fetch him,” she says. “Have a seat.”
I fidget while I wait, imagining the whip digging into my back and splitting my skin open.
I shouldn’t want that. It isn’t penance if Ilikeit.
It doesn’t take long for Father Zachariah to come out of his office. He’s wearing his usual dark trousers and light dress shirt, and his beard looks freshly trimmed.
His eyes rake over me with concern. “What is it, my child?”
I duck my head, staring down at the floor. The metal is warm in my hand, and I wish I had its small comfort around my neck.
I wish I had the weight of the watch around my wrist, too, to bolster me and give me courage. It’s ridiculous, because it’s the exact opposite of soothing when I’m about to confess that I met someone outtherewho is sending me gifts.
Not just someone, but another man.
It is an abomination.
My mouth is dry, and my throat is tight, and I can’t get the words out immediately.
I can’t get them out at all.
I can’t.
“I have a confession to make,” I whisper.
Father Zachariah reaches out and pats my back. “I am always happy to help you unburden the weight on your shoulders. I told Sarah to keep the kids in their rooms. We have some privacy now.”
