Page 51 of Lonely
I did the sign of the cross, and Father O’Neil told me to go in peace, but I couldn’t find peace, not like this.
He wanted to keep me from Carter, just like everyone else.
Like Anna and my mother.
Father O’Neil escaped, and I sat in silence for a moment, squeezing the heart pendant while trying to muster up the willpower to face my mother.
She waited for me outside with a tub of homemade bolognese she’d made this morning with the freshly ground minced meat in my fridge, ready to gift to anyone she deemed worthy.
With her chin tipped as always and a lilac feathered hat on her head, she walked past the pews, expecting me to follow.
We entered the cold afternoon and joined the other churchgoers. Fir trees stretched tall. Crows cleaned their wings with their beaks on the aged headstones to our left. I huddled into my scarf, my breaths visible in the chilly air.
While I was freezing my balls off, Mother socialized. She turned to me with a stern look that said,“Don’t fuck this up,”and urged me forward with a wrinkly hand on my back. “Say hi to Esther Jenner. Her family has recently moved back.”
I stiffened. But I wasn’t staring at the barely legal girl. I was staring at the older woman beside her.
Chris O’Connor’sSarah Jenner? Esther was her daughter?
Sarah, the church leader’s daughter. She had ridden Chris’s cock behind Tessa Miller’s back while I lurked behind my curtain with my binoculars.
Apparently, I wasn’t allowed to stick my dick in wild women like Anna, but Sarah’s daughter was deemed a suitable match.
Dressed in a brown knitted cardigan and a conservative floral skirt that stopped at her ankles, Sarah was nothing like Anna.
I bet she screamed like her though. Or maybe not? Maybe Anna’s screams had been sweeter because of her wild, untamed nature. But despite the conservative clothing, Sarah liked sex, too.
Premarital sex.
I spared her daughter a glance, noting her delicate youth. She’d be easy to manipulate. Too easy. I was already bored.
Sarah’s husband, a tall man our age, reached his hand out. We shook. He had a full head of hair.
I hated him already.
“Esther is eighteen,” Mother told me, and I heard everything she wasn’t saying.
Marry her and fuck her brains out. Teach her to fear God between the sheets. I’m old. I want grandbabies.
Esther smiled, a blush creeping up her graceful neck.
I pictured our future—me taking her ass to avoid remortgaging the house. If I weren’t careful, a young, ripe woman like her would pop out babies like a tennis ball machine, and my earnings from Wellard would soon stretch thin. She would turn into my mother . . . bitter and angry, with ten kids and a messy house and Chris O’Connor’s skull beneath our marital bed.
But then I pictured Anna’s red heels on her small feet, and those were dangerous thoughts. I cleared my throat before my cock started to swell.
“Nice to meet you,” I said before walking away.
I didn’t have to turn around to know Mother gawked at my back before handing the Jenners the tub of bolognese.
Rude, petulant boy.
Go fuck yourself, Mother.
I’d barely gotten the key in the ignition when she joined me in the car, pulling the door shut with a huff and smacking me with her handbag. “You’re marrying that sweet girl.”
“I’m old enough to be her dad,” I muttered, reversing out of the parking spot.
“Like that stopped you with the nurse,” Mother spat. “You were more than happy to fornicate with her. Esther is a God-fearing young lady from a respectable family.”
