Page 69 of Heathens
Salem
Present
I go home to grab some things, but otherwise, I spend the entire weekend at Lily’s place. Though I do my due diligence when it comes to Notre Dame, my heart is no longer in it. The place—the smells, the rituals, Father Monsignor—it feels tainted now. Painted black and red with sin. And though, deep down, I don’t consider myself as holy as I probablyshouldbe for someone a few months away from becoming a deacon, I feel like I’m walking down the right path. And God? I still feel Him everywhere.
I feel Him as I walk back to Lily’s apartment, passing narrow alleys and bulb lights, the smell of vinegar and fried eggs at the brasseries, the feel of a metal bench that has been warmed in the sun.
I hear Him in the clacking of heels on the sidewalks, the whoosh of water running from a hose, the patter of rain as a summer storm blows in.
I can smell Him in the wet asphalt and fresh flowers lining the window boxes.
But mostly, I can see Him in Lily—in her eyes, the way she moves, the small crease between her eyes when she squints. I smell Him on her skin as the ice cream drips down her forearm on one particularly hot evening walk. When I’m around her, I feel electrified, bowled over with that otherworldly presence.
I don’t know what that says about me and my beliefs. What it says about how God chooses to talk to me in these ways. Why now? I ruminate on that all weekend—even when Lily leaves to meet with Benedict. I trust her, and though I don’t love the idea of the two of them being together, I won’t stop her. Not when we need him.
Once Father Monsignor leaves the church—which I’ll make damn sure he does, at the very least—what’s next for me? Do I continue with the program at Notre Dame de Paris? It’s a prestigious program, very hands-on. Half of the reason I decided upon it was so that I’d learn from Father Monsignor. But now, what direction am I supposed to walk in? Leaving the church completely doesn’t feel right, but staying doesn’t feel right either.
And where does Lily fit with my future?
While I wait for Lily to return, I burn off some nervous energy by meeting Felix for coffee in the twelfth arrondissement at a tiny, hole-in-the-wall café that always smells like fresh sourdough and espresso. Henry is in Milan choosing fabrics for their winter/spring line. Killian, Anna, and my father are all with my nieces on a day trip to Versailles. I’m not one to ruminate on things in a solitary manner. I need to talk things over.
I need to figure my shit out.
Luckily, Felix was available.
“Hey,” I say, pulling him into a tight hug when I see him waiting under the awning. The rain started again a few minutes ago, and I’m grateful I remembered to bring an umbrella. “Thanks for meeting me.”
“You’ve looked better, little bro,” he jokes, giving me a half smile and kissing me on both cheeks.
I look down at my clothes—a day-old t-shirt, dirty jeans, sneakers. I’ve been staying up late with Lily and waking up early to study at the church. I suppose it’s beginning to show.
“I've never felt better,“ I reply honestly. “I'm exhausted as hell, I'm eating all kinds of crap, and I haven't been on a run all weekend. But...“ I smile and look down at the ground as we walk into the smoky café.
“But... you’re in love,” Felix finishes, ordering us two espressos.
I take a seat next to him at a small table in the back and clasp my hands together in front of me. “Maybe. I think so. I’m not sure.”
Felix smirks as the server brings us our drinks. We both take a sip. He adds some sugar and clears his throat. “If it’s any consolation, we all love her. Lily, I mean.”
And as much as I already knew that, I am so thankful my family embraced her so warmly. She seemed incredibly content and joyful that night, as if some of her darkness was silenced.
“I know. I know that. She’s—she’s not the problem, though.”
“Ah,“ Felix acquiesces and gestures to the server for an ashtray. That's one thing I've always admired about Felix. He's there for you—he listens. Actuallylistensand tells you how it is, without any judgment. And, he has an uncanny ability to know what the other person needs. After the plastic tray is brought over, he offers me a cigarette. Lighting them, he smacks his hands together and turns to face me head-on. “Salem, I know why we're here.“ Before I can say anything, he continues. “Lily and the church don't exactly go hand in hand, no?“ I shrug. “So, which one do you want more?“
I shake my head slowly, unsure. “I want Lily. And I want to help people. I want to talk to God. But, as you said, those things clash together—evenifI continued down the path I’m going, and...” I trail off and look away. I haven’t admitted this to anyone, but Felix is my brother. I tell him everything. “Even if I continue down this path and become a deacon, I can technically still get married.” I let out a whooshing breath.
I haven't thought of our future—and what it might look like. Hell, I haven't even professed mymaybe-love for her. We haven't even had sex... yet. I don't know what's stopping us. I think we're both terrified of how we'd come out of it unscathed. In the few instances we've fooled around, the intensity burns through me so fiercely that I'm afraid I'll spontaneously combust. So much so, that I usually have to excuse myself to take a cold shower. So, no... I haven't given much thought to our future. But I can say for sure; I don't think I ever want to give her up.
Felix cocks his head. “Wow. Marriage. Gone is the playboy of yesteryear,” he jokes, shaking his head and laughing.
“I’m just saying, it should be easy, right? Continue doing what I’m doing. But... Notre Dame doesn’t feel right anymore. I feel like I’m drifting away from my path, from my fate, in that aspect. While simultaneously sprinting toward the rightness of the path with Lily.”
“So, find another program,“ Felix says simply, getting us two glasses of water. I sip my espresso slowly as I ruminate on his words.
“It’s not that easy,” I answer, blowing smoke out.
“Talk to Father Monsignor. I’m sure he’d understand.”
