I stared into his warm, inviting eyes as he nodded for me to trust him.
“Danny,” I whispered, “he’s my ex-boyfriend and he was murdered.” The priest’s eyes didn’t change—I’m sure he had heard it all. He waved his hand encouraging me to speak freely. “I came home one night and found him dead, lying in a pool of his own blood. I was heartbroken, but more than that I was terrified of being alone. Danny was all I had and had only been with him for a short while. I think I loved the idea of us more than I actually loved him. I know it’s horrible but how do you love someone you barely know?” I think it’s okay to fall in love quickly, it’s something we can’t control, the heart wants what it wants, it ties itself to another heart without your consent. However, when it came to Danny, I fell in love with the myth not the man.
I left out that what I knew was all a lie. That shit was still fresh and not completely processed in my mind. A Fed? Come on now! I’m not even going to touch that one.
“I know loss, I’ve never held onto anyone I love. Not one person. My mom, I’m sure I loved her when I was a baby, it’s natural. But she loved her drugs more than she loved me. My grandparents, I loved and I knew they loved me, they cherished me, but they died too. Then there was Danny. He was kind, and made me laugh, which was foreign to me. I wasn’t so lonely anymore with him. So when I saw him lying dead, his eyes open, I lay down beside him and returned the favor because no one should be alone when they die. It didn’t matter, I was too late, he was dead already. I couldn’t just leave him so I wrapped my arms around him and hung onto the feeling of belonging to someone before I couldn’t anymore.”
I took a deep breath, marveling at how easy it was becoming for me to share these parts of myself. Months ago I wouldn’t have.
“The house went up in flames, the fire spreading so rapidly, completely unattainable. I felt it, the fire eating my flesh but I couldn’t leave him. I closed my eyes and breathed in the smoke, welcomed the burning of my skin and accepted my fate. I would not be lonely anymore. I’d be with Danny.”
I smiled at the priest as he stared at me.
“Obviously I turned left when I should’ve gone right because I’m still here and he’s not.” He remained silent. He didn’t have the answers, no one did. I looked back at the cross, thinking he was supposed to have all the answers.
“I was burned badly, I needed several surgeries and I have had skin grafting done. My scars are ugly and for a long time I let them define the rest of me. I believed I was damaged because I was destined to live life being lonely,” I pointed to the cross and continued, “thought that was what he wanted for me,” I boldly stated, before turning back to the priest. “So I became the lonely girl, sheltered and just existing, not really living.”
I sighed. “But then I met Jack. He was rough around the edges, an alluring bad boy that most women can’t deny. I’m sure you’re familiar with the cliché. He’s the guy you want to fix, the guy you think you can change or at least wish you’ll be enough for him to change. At first, I thought the appeal of him was how he made me feel. He noticed the reclusive girl hiding behind the counter of a diner and he brought her out of her shell. I don’t even think he tried very hard, he pushed my buttons and expertly so. I was putty in his hand, a woman at his mercy because Jack Parrish was everything missing in my life.”
It felt good to share our story with the priest so I continued. “He wasn’t some Heaven sent man, perfectly suited to whisk me off my feet. He was broken, damaged and just as lost as me. He’s hard and closed off to the rest of the world—but for me, his walls crumbled. Each brick surrounding my heart, he pushed out of place and for every one of those bricks that he removed he let one of his own disappear. I don’t know when it happened or how but I fell for him. The cliché became forgotten or maybe it never existed for me because I don’t remember ever thinking I could fix him or change him. I wanted him as he was and I think that’s because he made me feel like I could be myself and he still wanted me. That’s big because at the time I didn’t know who I was so he couldn’t have either. He stood beside me and let me discover the woman I was after the fire. He accepted my insecurities, my hurt and my demons. What kind of woman would I be if I didn’t do the same for him?”
I paused, looking at the priest with wide eyes. “It was easy to fall in love with him and maybe he was Heaven sent after all.”