Page 93 of Saint
I can give this life up, right? The plainsong, the nature, the lectio-sex. The bond that only comes through shared denial, shared toil, shared bleary mornings with jaw-cracking yawns when the abbot isn’t looking.
I could give it up for him, couldn’t I? Because the reward is...well, it’shim.
And I can still remain devoted to God as a layperson—people do that, don’t they? I could do that. Tyler did.
We’re far enough north that the sun is already lightening the night sky when I wake for vigils. And like the sky outside, I feel lighter, clearer. Illuminated.
I’m going to leave the Church.
I choose Elijah.
Maybe it was finally telling my story yesterday, or maybe it’s been the slow accretion of the last two and a half weeks, but I feel abruptly free of the need to pin my future to this one way. Maybe I needed the Church to untangle my life and my mind—maybe I needed these last five years to become the kind of man who was healthy and mature enough for a long-term relationship. The kind of man worthy of Elijah’s love. I don’t know.
But I can’t stay.
Not when the price is losing him.
49
We claimanother morning for ourselves under the pretense of walking the cliff paths.
It’s only when we get past several undulations of the path that I see the small, crumbling ruin from the pictures of St. Columba’s. An old fishing cottage, I think, with walls of stone and a missing roof. I call to Elijah that I’m going to check it out, and then he joins me, ducking through the intact doorway to stand next to me inside.
“And to think, this would go for a mere million pounds in London,” he says, looking at the fireplace which has weeds growing inside. But there’s no trash tangled in the weeds, which as a former teenage (and adult-age) troublemaker makes me think that the little cottage is too remote for people to use as a party-spot or trysting place. The grass that’s grown on what used to be a dirt floor is soft and thick and comes up past my ankles, which makes me think it’s not walked on or grazed very often.
Perfect.
While Elijah is giving this place an Elijah eyebrow, I lift his satchel from his shoulder and set it in a corner.
“What are you...?” He turns to look at me, and I take his face in my hands. I want to be looking at him when I tell him. I want to see the happiness and relief dancing in his eyes as I do.
His expression changes when he sees mine, a flare of interest in his eyes as he licks his lower lip. “Is this awhat if?” he asks in a husky voice.
“Obviously,” I say, brushing my mouth over his and then slowly backing him against the wall. Without a roof, there’s plenty of light for me to see his pupils dilating as I pin him against the stone with my hips, pinning him hard enough that he can feel my need even through the fabric of my robes.
“Shit,” he whispers, his eyelids fluttering as I use him to grind against, shoving one of my hands up his shirt to scrape a gentle fingernail over his nipple. “What game this time?”
Excitement surges through me, a bolt of adrenaline-laced joy. I find his hands with my own and then pull them up between us.
“What if,” I say, looking into his eyes, “what if...I left?” I take a deep breath. “What if I left for you?”
Elijah’s lips part. He blinks twice. “Left being a monk?”
I can’t help the grin that blooms on my face. “Yeah.”
“Is this a game?” he asks, his brow furrowing, and I’m grinning even harder, shaking my head.
“No game,” I say eagerly. “We’ll fly home and then I’ll tell Abbot Jerome and then...then I can be yours, Elijah. No more habits, no more sneaking around between prayers. I’ll be yours completely.”
He stares at me, his eyes sharp and inquiring as they pore over my face.
“You mean this,” he says slowly. “You really mean this.”
“I realized yesterday that I can’t live another day without you,” I say, squeezing his hands. “I tried. All this time, I’ve tried, and it did me a lot of good, I think, because that version of Aiden wasn’t ready to be a full partner for anyone. But I want to try again. And most of all, I just want toloveyou. Without inhibition, without guilt. Without a divided heart.”
“And God?” he asks. “Will you not still have a divided heart for him?”
I lean in to kiss Elijah’s cheek. “There are lots of devoted laypeople. I’ll be one of them. I’ll go to Father Jordan’s church or something.”
