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Idraw in a ragged breath, unable to mutter a single word of this familiar prayer becauseI’mabout to start hyperventilating.
When“Amen” is said, our hands drop to our sides—but his lingers around mine a moment longer.
“Peacebe with you.”
“Andwith your spirit.”
“Letus offer one another a sign of peace.”
Myeyes shatter wide open and my heart bottoms out.
Panickedthoughts race through my head, unsure of which way to turn first.MomandDadalways kiss first, and, used to,ZakandIwould do the same—people always greet their significant others first.
Oh,God,I’mgoing to die of a heart attack in church.
Finally,Iforce myself to look atZak.
Hisback is turned to me, and he’s shaking someone’s hand across the aisle.
Phew.Ican turn the other way and ignore him.
AfterhuggingMomandDadand shaking hands or waving to pew neighbors, kneelersthudon the floor throughout the church, and everyone kneels.
Zakiswaytoo close.
Hebreathes in deep.
Thehair on my arms and the back of my neck stands at attention.
He’swatching me with the same hunger in his dark eyes from the bridge.
Thesanctuary is dead silent asFatherTomasconsumes theEucharist.Bloodrushes through my ears so loudly thatIcan barely hear the shaking exhale that passes my lips asIstare into the eyes of the beast that took my life only days ago.
“Don’t,”Ibeg, mouthing the word as tears blur my vision.
Along, droning note blasts from the organ in the choir loft.
Zakblinks.Thedarkness gradually subsides from his eyes, giving way to the golden brownIknow and love.
Heblinks a few more times and shakes his head as he pushes away from the pew.Anusher stands beside him, indicating for our row to go up for communion, andZakimmediately bolts.
Isuck in so much air thatIgive myself the hiccups asIrise and stand in line behind him.Hebows deeply before approachingFatherTomas, who raises a consecrated host.
“Thebody ofChrist.”
“Amen.”
Zakplaces the host on his tongue and, suddenly, his tense shoulders relax.
Mybrows furrow.EventhoughI’mup next,Ikeep track of him as he crosses himself before the altar and moves to a eucharistic minister holding a chalice.
Iquickly jump forward and cross my arms over my chest at the last second.FatherTomasmakes a sign of the cross on my forehead.
WhenIturn,IcatchZaktaking a bit too large of a gulp of wine.Hesurrenders the chalice and staggers backward slightly.
Theminister goes to wipe the rim of the gold chalice and frowns.ShegivesZaka look of disapproval as she tosses the white cloth over the chalice.
Againstevery fiber of my being screaming not to,Igently push him forward to tell him to go.Whenwe reach our seats and kneel,Zakgrips my arm tight and leans in toward me.
