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"Are you…" I follow her as she stomps back-forth-back, across the length of the floor of the living room. "Are you talking to yourself?"
"Shh.” She turns to me and frowns. "I’m trying to figure this out."
"By talking aloud?"
"Hey, don’t mock it until you try it. Did you know talking to yourselfhelps you organize your thoughts?" She shoves her purple-tipped hair back from her face.
Who dyes their hair purple? Ava does, that's who.
"According to psychologists, talkingout loud toyourself helps you clarify your thoughts," she mumbles. "It helps to figure out what's important, and firm up any decisions you're contemplating."
"Ah," I allow my lips to tip up, "and what decision are you contemplating right now?"
She flushes. "I am not sure you want to know."
"Don’t I?"
She shakes her head. "I don’t think it’s right for me to share what I am thinking with a priest… Not unless I was in confession, but then, wouldn’t you have to keep it secret? I mean, aren’t you bound by a code of conduct of some kind? And damn, but I admit, I may have eyed you up a little out there earlier. Does that even count as sin? Is it made worse by the fact that you are priest? Is it—"
"Stop." I hold up my hand.
She purses her lips together, then draws in a breath. "Sorry," she mutters, "I tend to babble when I’m nervous."
"I didn’t notice." I allow my smile to widen. This girl—she’s adorable. She twists her fingers together, hunches her shoulders, then snaps them back. "Uh, guess I should...go then?"
She turns to leave, and something hot stabs at my chest. Okay, so I can’t have any kind of relationship with her… What the—? How had I even allowed myself to think that? Since becoming an ordained priest eight years ago, I’ve focused on my role, the routine, the discipline. The simplicity of my existence means everything to me. It helps me ground my thoughts, allows me to focus on what is important: serving others, helping them, listening to them, and helping to alleviate their worries.
In their comfort, I draw comfort. By easing their pain, I breathe easier. When I help a soul cross over, a part of me opens up to possibilities, and when I baptize a newborn, look into their clear eyes and welcome them to the house of the Lord, I redeem myself.
That… The regiment of how I live my life, gives me the framework upon which to anchor myself. When I am in that space, I don’t have to worry about what happened to me, how the incident affected me, how I had fallen apart after the kidnapping, when the Seven and I had been taken and held in captivity for a month; how I had pulled myself together, only to fall apart again.
Boys join the army to learn discipline… For me, it had been the calling from God that had saved me. And surely, it is God who sent this girl, this absolutely stunning, untainted-by-life soul to me.
Or is it the devil trying to lure me away from Him?
No, not possible. I shake my head. This... It doesn't feel wrong. There's nothing unnatural about what I feel for her. Surely, it has to be the Lord wanting me to learn something from her? That's why he sent her.
What is this test that I am facing? And do I have the courage to go through with it?
Can I rise to the occasion; face the fears that her proximity evokes in me?
And if I don’t—if I chosenotto accept this ultimate trial… Would that not mean that I have learned nothing from all the time I have spent in serving the Lord?
If this is his way of testing me... And surely, it has to be. There could be no other explanation for why, out of everything I’ve encountered thus far, she stands out like a beacon…
The air around her crackles with a vitality, a strange sensation… Almost one of hope, of life, of joy… Emotions I’ve seen amongst my parishioners, that I have studied from afar, even joined them in celebrating… But never once, experienced personally. Not until now.
Is this why you sent her my way, my Lord? Is it a sign that I need to open myself further, allow the emotions in, sense their sting, revel in how they torture me with everything that I cannot and will not allow myself to feel? So be it, then. I follow your command.
"Ava," I call out as she opens the door, "wait."
Ava
His voice stops me. I pause at the threshold.
"Ava."
I turn, wait for him to speak.
