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I look up just as Father Matteo walks into the cabin. He’s been a frequent visitor, but I haven’t wanted to talk to him either. He looks at the bottle in my hand and sighs before turning to the twins. “Mary, Parker. Why don’t you help Kendall and Patrick and make sure the campers are settled for dinner?”
Mary and Parker share a look but nod. Mary kisses my cheek as Parker squeezes my shoulder before they exit, leaving me alone with Father Matteo.
“What are you doing here, Father?” I ask him, my words slurring as I take another swig of the vodka.
“We’re all worried about you, Jarred,” Father Matteo says, sitting down on the bed next to me. “I thought that maybe you’re ready to talk.”
“What is there to talk about?” I laugh cruelly. “I sinned. I laid with another man, and this is what happened. I wish I had never met Noah.”
Father Matteo frowns. “Do you really mean that, Jarred?”
No, I don’t. That’s the part that’s so painstakingly difficult. I don’t believe it and I don’t mean it. Ever since I forced Noah out that door, I’ve wanted him back. But I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to reconcile these parts of myself—the parts that crave him and the parts that know it’s wrong—and it’s driving me insane.
How can I want what I know I can’t have? Why does it feel like someone ripped out my heart when I think about Noah? When I think about God, why do I feel like being without Noah is the punishment I deserve?
It’s all a confusing mess, and I don’t know how to sort through it all. So, I drink. I drink and I sleep and I let myself fall deeper and deeper into despair because I did this to myself.
“Your kids love you, Jarred. There are parents here who still support you. The world is a different place now,” Father Matteo says, taking the bottle gently out of my hands. “Why don’t you try reaching out to Noah?”
“How can you say that?” I ask, agonized that he would even bring him up. “What about God—”
“Enough bullshit about God!”
I gasp. In the ten years I’ve known him, Father Matteo hasneverraised his voice like that. Not only that, but he’s a priest. His words strike me to my core, and I’m left only to gape at him. “Father Matteo—”
“No, you listen to me,” he snaps, brows furrowed and eyes narrowed as he slams the bottle down on my nightstand. “Fuck all that! Fuck it all! Do you love Noah?”
More than anything. More than God. More than myself.
But how is that okay? Why is the guilt still eating me alive? Why does it have to be a choice?
“Yes,” I whisper, wishing that it was Noah here to comfort me, to scream at me, to just doanythingto me. “But—”
“No buts,” he interrupts. “God is fucking love, Jarred. That’s all he is. He doesn’t give a shit if you’re straight or gay. God is who you want him to be.”
“That can’t be true,” I say, desperation seeping through my voice. “That’s not what I’ve spent my life believing.”
“Because you’ve been brainwashed. You’ve been told that there was something so innately wrong with you, but we’re still here. God is still here.” Father Matteo sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose as he takes his own swig of the vodka. He thinks for a moment, teetering with the bottle in his hand before turning back to me. “When do you feel closest to God?”
I know what my answer should be. I should say that I feel closest to God when I attend mass. I should say I feel his presence when I pray. I should say that I believe in him the most when I take in His holy spirit, but I don’t.
If God is all the wonders of the world, all the majesty of the universe, and all the goodness in the cosmos, I only feel that with one person.
“When I’m with Noah,” I answer, my voice small and frail. I feel tears well in my eyes as I drop my face into my hands. “Father, I’m so confused. I don’t want to feel this guilt anymore. I don’t want to feel this shame. I just want Noah.”
“And there’s nothing wrong with that,” he assures me, rubbing my back in soothing circles. “When we had our talk about Noah, you were so close to acceptance. Don’t let the act of a cowardly little shit change that. If you love Noah, you should be with him.”
I shake my head as I wipe away the snot on my nose. “I don’t think I can. I’m ashamed of the things I’ve said to him. He’d never take me back after that.”
“You need to try,” he insists. He pries my hands away from my face and smiles gently. “Forget about everything else. You can deal with all the things you feel once you have him by your side. Take this day by day, Jarred, but don’t deny yourself the happiness you deserve.”
I don’t know if I deserve it, but I want it. I still don’t know what exactly I feel, but I do know that I love Noah. Father Matteo is right. If I take this day by day, I know I’ll find the answer. But I can’t do that when I’m living with the other half of my soul, ripped away and torn to shreds inside my barely beating heart.
Father Matteo hands me a piece of paper with an address scrawled in neat handwriting on the top. “I had Kendall text him and ask him where he was. He’s back home with his parents. His address was on file.”
“Can you watch the camp while I’m gone?” I ask.
He nods, giving me a reassuring grin. “Go to him, Jarred. God will guide you to the right choice. I know it seems hopeless, but He will be with you—always.”
