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After the morning Mass, I return to the parish office for a few hours to wrap up the Mass schedule I have to plan out. I’ll be leading several in the coming week.
As I finish up the plan, I hear whispers from down the hall. Usually, it’s quiet where my office is located in the building. People rarely come to see me outside of the office staff needing my help, and that’s usually just about the gala.
The whispers are growing louder the more frustrated the two parties get.
“What do you mean you can’t do more?”
A man’s voice is speaking.
“Just that, what do you want from me? I’m doing what I can.”
Another man’s voice.
“Don’t fuck with me, this isn’t how much you promised,” the first man repeats.
“Fuckin’ Christ, fine. I’ll see what I can do,” the second man responds.
A buzzing sound breaks up their argument.
“Watch your tongue,” the first man chastises.
The second man shuffles in his clothes from what I can make out. I’m assuming he’s pulling out his phone.
“I’ve got to go,” the second man says.
“Fine,” the first man huffs.
Footsteps begin walking hurriedly down the corridor until I no longer hear any sign of the second man at all. The break room door down the hall opens and swings shut behind the first man.
After a few minutes go by, I decide I can finally pack up and prepare to leave the parish. I couldn’t quite make out who either man was. Most likely, two people visited to make donations to the church and then stopped, looking for a restroom. The first man probably got lost and went into the break room by accident. But why didn’t I hear him coming back out?
It doesn’t matter. Not my problem to deal with.
With my bag by my side, I walk slowly down the hallway, looking for a clue of who either person was. No one is around.
Coming to St. Peter’s is proving to be the fucking weirdest experience of my life, and that’s saying something.
Back home, I change into running gear to finally see where Avery lives. I have this inexplicable urge to see it first-hand. I lace up my running shoes and begin a slow jog toward the waterway that skims her neighborhood.
I’m jogging at a steady pace as I dash in and out of the streets now. My headphones are in my ears, blasting hard rock. I love the rush of running. Not everyone who exercises likes running. The pounding of the pavement does take its toll on my shins, but I love every second of it.
Once I became a priest, I started to make running part of my new religion. A new high to take in, if you will. I couldn’t only have my woodworking. Not when I had relied so heavily on drugs and copious amounts of alcohol in the past.
Circling back toward Avery’s neighborhood, I find her street. I don’t want to make myself too obvious right away if she’s outside.
I fully understand this is borderline stalker behavior, but I just have to see her life with my own two eyes. Have my theories be proven wrong about her sadness and marriage to Kevin.
I could always reach out to Cara, one of the few people from my past, who would still answer my calls, to give me the rundown. Cara owns a technology security company out in California and used to be one of my best friends until I shut her out too. I just don’t want to do it that way with Avery. This is one time I don’t want to have the upper hand when getting to know someone.
Fuck, this is bad. I can’t be getting to know Avery like this.
I stop jogging and put my hands on my hips as I look down to the ground and contemplate what in the actual fuck I’m doing right now.
Maybe some people would assume I have an addictive personality. I don’t fucking care what labels people want to give me. Wanting to speak with Avery, to see her in person—it’s not exactly Fatherly, and I am all too fucking aware of it.
This is old Lachlan behavior. Not Father Lachlan behavior. That’s it. I shouldn’t be doing this. I need to go back home. I can’t be fucking going any further than what I have already done. Running to the home she shares with her husband is bad fucking news.
I’ve got to get out of here right now. I have to put distance between us, not be stalking the woman. I can’t get to know her. I’ll only fuck her life up… and mine. Pursuing her any further than this will ruin everything I have worked so hard to achieve.
