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“Someone on my crew, and whom I cared about very much… died.”
“Who was it?”
“Carla.”
Matt noticed Evie’s look of concern slowly turned to despair.
“And you loved her.”
It wasn’t a question, but a statement, but Matt also knew she misunderstood the attachment he had to Carla.
“Carla and I were in the same academy together… along with Bobby who later became her husband.”
“Her husband?” Evie echoed.
“Yes, her husband,” Matt restated. “Carla and I got hired on at the same department and Bobby was hired on at a neighboring city’s department. The three of us were a family. Years later, Carla and I ended up on the same shift. At one fire, I told Carla to leave the building as it was going to crash in, but she was insistent on saving a litter of baby kittens stuck inside.”
“Oh, Matt!” Evie expressed as she placed her hand on his chest. “The third tattoo. Is that the date she died, October fifteenth?”
Matt nodded his head.
“Do you feel it was your fault?”
“She has two kids, Evie!” Matt held back a sob. “I should have dragged her out of there. I should have taken her place. Now her two babies won’t ever know their beautiful, feisty, Cuban mother!”
“Your life has been heavily burdened,” Evie said.
“But you feel that I’m being too hard on myself and that I should just move on.”
Evie pondered for a moment. Then she spoke. “There comes a time when each of us has to look our demons in the face and decide to either accept what has happened, ask for forgiveness from God, ourselves, or others, and move forward and progress… or let those demons rule our lives and live in that sorrow as a penance for a price that Jesus already paid.”
“And this relationship can’t move forward without that process?” Matt asked. He felt he already knew the answer, but he just had to ask it aloud so he would know whether or not to nail the lid to his coffin or not.
“No matter what stage a relationship is in, the beginning, the middle with kids, or the end as old white-haired grandparents, not moving forward will damage that relationship. Crap happens to all of us. It’s how we deal with it that matters. How long do we sit in the muck and let that muck rub its grossness all over us until we are barely recognizable? Or when do we get up from that muck and let God’s love and Jesus’ sacrifice rinse away the muck so we can move forward?”
“Is religion that important to you?”
“What do you think?” Evie smiled tenderly.
“I have felt the Spirit this week, and I’m not denying its influence. I’ve lived both lifestyles and I’m just realizing that having religion in my life is important. I’m just not sure being a Mormon is the path I want to follow.”
“May I ask why?”
“I like drinking!” he replied.
Evie laughed. “Anything else?”
“I’m serious. I enjoy a good beer or glass of wine after dinner. It’s relaxing.”
“I’m sure it is, but is that the only reason?”
“I no longer fit the Mormon model.”
Evie wrinkled her brow. “I don’t understand.”
“I have tattoos, I have had sex, I’ve been drunk too many times to count, I’ve done drugs,” Matt uttered quickly.
Matt watched Evie as a tear slid down her cheek. She gathered her knees beneath her and slid closer to Matt as she gingerly placed the palms of her hands over the sides of his face.
