Page 75 of On Your Knees

It came to me during those long, quiet hours on the patio. Nothing triggered it. It wasn’t abrupt. I just felt myself softening and opening until the truth was able to sink into me.

And I haven’t said it yet because everything is shifting around inside me, trying to find a new place to fit around that truth.

How can I be ugly with someone I love?

That’s why we haven’t had sex.

But I don’t know how to talk to him about it. I’ve never talked about any of it, not with anyone.

I don’t know if I can.

* * *

In the morning light, I draw Levi’s hands. We’re in the sitting room with the rose marble fireplace, at opposite ends of the yellow couch so I can see him. He has his knees drawn up and his socked feet on the cushions. In his black joggers and navy blue hoodie, he’s drinking coffee and reading a book. His Kindle is still at the penthouse, so he’s reading my copy of The Metamorphosis. It’s kind of an ugly book for such beautiful hands.

I don’t understand how he can hold ugly things, even take them in, and still be beautiful. But then his eyes flick to mine, and I see the darkness in them, and I think that maybe ugliness isn’t the right word.

But I don’t know.

I feel overwhelmed by my inability to understand everything. I feel like there’s a ton of shit I need to look at and figure out, but it’s too hard.

So I just keep drawing.

So far, with Levi, I’ve only drawn what I see. I’ve imagined paintings and interpretations, but I’ve only drawn him as he is. I’ve realized that I don’t want to taint him with my imagination.

From the entryway where it’s plugged in to charge, my phone chimes.

I didn’t look at it when I plugged it in, though I couldn’t help seeing a bunch of notifications. Ruby, I’m guessing, or maybe Jensen. Nothing has gone away.

I’m not sure exactly what would happen if Jensen uncovered evidence that I killed Paul. Would the investigation be reopened? Would it matter that I was a minor? Would Ruby even let it get that far?

I don’t know. I don’t want to know. I don’t want to think about any of this. I just want to be with Levi.

He puts the book down on the arm of the chair. I stop drawing.

“Oh sorry,” he says and starts to pick up the book.

“No, it’s okay. I was pretty much done.”

“Can I see?”

I hand him the sketchbook.

He looks at the drawing for a long time. “You’re really good. Did you go to art school?”

“No. I studied business.”

Levi makes a face like that’s disappointing. “Why?”

“So I could manage the money I’d inherited, I guess. Or maybe because I didn’t really have a direction.”

Levi asks cautiously, “Because you didn’t want to be part of the church?”

My heart skips. “Yeah. I guess.”

“So what made you go back? The other day.” When I don’t answer, Levi pushes gently, “I know something’s going on.”

I want all of that to be separate from Levi, but the trouble is that it’s not separate from me. And he’s not separate from me. Which means he deserves to know. There’s no way I could handle telling him everything, but it’s not fair to tell him nothing.