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Realization dawned. It was the dishes. I’d forgotten to wash them in my panic to absorb every page of my textbooks. A wave of guilt washed over me.
“I’ll do them first thing in the morning, I promise, right after my test.”
“You think studying for your damn exam is more important than keeping this house clean?” His words slurred.
“I’ve been studying all day.” Desperation crept through me. “I need to do well on the exam,” I pleaded, trying to make him understand.
“So, you’re telling me that these dishes, your home, your responsibilities, are less important than your stupid test?” he scoffed, glaring at me.
I swallowed hard, the metallic taste of fear tainting my tongue. “It’s not that they’re less important, but,”—I paused to catch my breath—“this test is really crucial. It could help me get into a good college.”
He wasn’t listening. His hand came down hard on the countertop, causing me to flinch.
“Fine!” he snaps. “If that’s more important than this home,”—he gestured to the dirty dishes—“then I’ll do it myself.”
He began smashing the plates on the floor.
No! Mom's dishes. Panic clawed at my insides.
One by one, their sharp cracks echoing through the room. I watched the destruction, the fragments of the destroyed dishes that once belonged to my mom. I lunged toward him.
“Please stop,” I pleaded. “I’ll do them now,”
Shoving me aside, he kept breaking them. Pieces of the shattered plates crunched under my slippers, reminding me of the brokenness of my life.
A tender touch on my jaw snapped me out of the suffocating memory. I blinked away the tears threatening to spill.
Father Bridge’s thumb brushed gently over my cheek, and I attempted a weak smile.
“You know, it wasn’t just him shoving me around,” I started, my voice shaking. “He barely spoke to me. Most days, there wasn’t even food in the house. I had to take two jobs just to pay for my necessities in college. And Emma…” I continue, my voice softer now, a hint of warmth creeping in. “Emma is my BFF and was the only one who kept me sane through it all. I don’t know what I would have done without her.”
He listened, his eyes steady on mine, not interrupting or offering empty comments. He just listened, which made it bearable.
“I…” Father Bridge started after a moment of silence, his voice thick. “I grew up in the foster system. When I finally got out, I thought I’d found my true love, but she was using me, trying to get her hands on what little wealth I had. Trusting anyone... it’s hard. It’s damn hard.” He swallowed hard, glancing away from me.
My hand flew to my chest, my heart beating harder for his agony. I reached over to his arm, and he put on a fake smile.
“Is that why you became a priest?” The words spilled from my mouth with curiosity while my chest unexpectedly stung at hearing he’d found his true love.
He went silent, and a shadow passed over his features. His hand drifted to my knee, where his thumb caressed my bare skin, and I shivered from the sensation.
“Thanks for sharing that with me. I know it’s hard to bring up broken pasts. Gosh, I know that too well.”
His laugh that time was clipped and caustic.
“Let’s talk about brighter things…” His voice trailed off as he walked away to put things away, but it was okay he wanted to change the topic. We both had our pasts, our secrets, and at that moment, sitting on the sterile medical bed with Father Bridge, I didn’t feel so alone.
“I think we should address the elephant in the room,” I finally said, breaking the uneasy silence that had wrapped around us like a thick blanket.
Father Bridge speared a hand through his hair, his gaze flickering back on me with an unreadable expression. He appeared disarmed and captivating. He could have easily been on the cover of a men’s fashion magazine.
“There’s nothing to talk about,” he countered, his words carrying a tone of finality.
“I-I’m sorry,” I stammered, the words tumbling out of me in a rush. “I shouldn’t have done that to you in front of everyone. I just... I didn’t expect it to be you.”
The gleam that had previously brightened his eyes dimmed, replaced by a fallen look that sent a sting of guilt through me. “Oh,” was all he managed to say, the word like a blade in my side. “It was Logan, wasn’t it?” he asked.
“It... it’s complicated,” I admitted, struggling to find the right words. “I was trying to get back at him for something he did to me. But I don’t want to talk about that. Just... know that I’m sorry. Though I will admit, I really enjoyed it.” I blushed, feeling suddenly stupid for voicing that out loud.
