It was the mid-semester break, and six days of not seeing Rachel was about all I could take. If anyone got a hold of what I’d resorted to, they’d think I’d lost my mind—and they might be right, but I didn’t give a fuck after six days.
This month’s Rolling Stone magazine had one of those quizzes Rachel was obsessed with. I’d noticed it while thumbing through two weeks ago and put it aside so she could take it. Missing her this morning, I might have taken it myself.
What Your Music Says About Your Love Life asked a series of questions based on which songs you related to most. When I tallied up my score, the prediction it assigned to me about my future was, of course, completely inaccurate. Curious, I read the other predictions anyway. One hit home, only I hadn’t scored between a 52 and 68. That particular answer couldn’t have been any more perfect for Rachel to read today if I had made the shit up myself. It read:
You’ve already met your destiny! Although you may not know it. You’re an old soul who connects with people on a cosmic level. Trust can be an issue with you, and you often avoid relationships because you follow your head instead of your intuition, sometimes blindly. In love, sometimes you need to throw caution to the wind and jump in with both feet. You’ve known your soulmate for a long time, but only recently have realized it was meant to be. Stop fighting it and feed your soul.
The quiz was a series of fifteen questions. I retook it, only this time I answered as Rachel would. Drinking a scotch on the rocks, I rattled the ice around in the glass as I tallied up her answers. Her score would be somewhere between 40 and 43. You’ve yet to meet your destiny!
“Yeah. Not happening,” I grumbled.
Sucking back the rest of the scotch, I figured she needed a boost of eighteen to twenty points in order to be safely ensconced where she was supposed to be. I picked the four questions where I was most certain of her answers and manually changed the point rating to increase it by five each.
“Much better. “
Jesus Christ, I’ve been thoroughly pussified.
I tossed the magazine on the table and scrubbed my hands over my face. What the fuck was I doing? I’d resorted to editing love quizzes and taking them as Rachel. I needed to not have a second drink, sober up, shower, put some clean clothes on, and go down to O’Leary’s before I resorted to calling and hanging up on her just to hear her voice.
Growing some balls, that’s exactly what I finally did.
I’d decided not to text her before showing up so she didn’t have the opportunity to tell me to email over the unimportant stuff I was pretending was important for her to take a look at. I drove to O’Leary’s at almost the end of her shift. The thought of seeing her soon had me in a better mood than I’d been in for two weeks. I whistled along with the music on the car ride over.
Ava was behind the bar when I walked in. I remembered Rachel had said her friend’s bartending abilities were limited to covering quick breaks and trips to the bathroom, so I figured she must be in the restroom or doing something in back.
I took a seat at the bar to wait, opting for the emptier side, opposite where Ava stood with her back to me while she talked to a patron. Still in my good mood, I tapped my fingers on the bar to the sound of Jack Johnson’s “Better Together” playing overhead.
Unfortunately, my good mood came to a screeching halt when I glanced around the restaurant. Rachel was at a table, only she wasn’t delivering food. My hands clenched into fists as I watched her sitting in a booth off in the corner with some guy. Their hands were intertwined in the middle of the table as they sat in what appeared to be deep conversation. I stared until the guy moved his head and I could get a clear look at his face. Davis.
What the fuck?
My first instinct was to walk over and find out what the hell was going on. I even stood and took a few steps. But then I saw something that made me freeze in place. Rachel bent her head back, laughing. Instantly I went from angry to an odd mix of feeling crushed and guilty. She was smiling again instead of looking like she was sad. Wasn’t that what I’d wanted all along?
Conflicted, I watched from a distance until I was unable to take it any more. Then I turned around and quietly walked back out of the bar. I was angry, though I knew I had absolutely no right to be. And my anger was mixed heavily with regret.
It was my fault she was holding hands with another man. I’d walked away because I didn’t deserve to have her, yet no one else was worthy of her either. There was no logic to my thoughts. Somehow, though, I was aware that no one would understand the decisions I’d made. So, I kept to myself, even though I needed to work out what I was going through out loud.
The entire break, I’d been cooped up in my apartment. My only daily activity, other than hitting the gym, was listening to music. If I didn’t keep myself out for at least a few hours now, there was a good chance Rachel would be getting a mix tape. I was that pussified.
Left with nothing to do with myself, I decided to go for a drive. I’d let the road and my little car take me where they would. I didn’t have to be at work until Monday. Getting out of the city for a night or two might be just what I needed. Pulling a U-turn, I headed for the bridge instead of the parkway that took me back to my apartment. I honestly had no particular destination in mind. So, I just drove. For hours. And when I arrived, I realized I was exactly where I needed to be.
The stairs had been replaced. Worn red brick was now white marble. Some of the bushes were new, and the little fence that surrounded the statue of the Virgin Mary hadn’t been there before. But otherwise, St. Killian’s looked exactly like the last time I’d walked through its doors fifteen years ago. I still remembered that visit. I’d snuck out of the house—having been punished after the shit that went down with Benny the week before. I knew she was gone. My parents had told me that much since I’d refused to even talk about anything that’d happened until I heard she was safe. But I didn’t care. I needed to be here that Saturday in case somehow she came back to talk to me. I wanted to explain why I’d done what I’d done.
That afternoon, I sat in that dark booth for six straight hours. Of course she never did show up—she was long gone. I realized I’d have to live with the guilt of betraying her trust and hope she moved on.
The irony didn’t escape me that I was here once again after seeing her move on today.
Inside, the church was empty. I had no idea why I’d come or what I was going to do when I got here. My eyes went right to the confessional, which was still there, but I wasn’t about to go sit inside. Instead, I took a seat in the back pew and just looked around. It was peaceful tonight. The smell of musty incense warmed my senses. Closing my eyes, I took a few deep, cleansing breaths, spread my arms along the top of the pew, and bowed my head.
I stayed that way for an indeterminate amount of time, until the sounds of footsteps close by caused me to lift my head. An older priest came toward me. I hadn’t even heard him until he was only a few pews away.