Chapter Twenty-Six
“Neither is there any creature that is not manifest in his sight: but all things are naked and opened unto the eyes of him with whom we have to do.”
Running on nothing but fumes and what was probably considered a dangerous number of energy drinks, Illias headed to his mom’s house for his weekly visit.
He took a longer than necessary route, hoping it would ease his racing mind so he didn’t blurt anything out to his mom that he didn’t want to talk about.
There were at least a thousand different thoughts jumbled together, and not one needed to be said in front of his mom.
He chewed on his bottom lip, deciding if he should word vomit to Charity or if it was worth the risk to keep it all to himself.
As he took the familiar turn towards his childhood subdivision, he groaned and paused his music.
He told his phone to call Charity then waited while the phone rang.
“Hey! I wasn’t expecting to hear from you until later today. What’s up?” Charity’s voice was distorted through the speaker.
“Well, I’ve probably had one too many energy drinks and now I can’t get my head to shut up, which is not a good thing considering I’m visiting my mom today.”
“You’ve got like fifteen minutes before I’ve got to hit the road for work, go for it.”
Illias took in a deep breath then began to rattle, “Okay, so like half my thoughts are about my situation with Cantrell. I’ve got like a zillion of those just kind of buzzing around up there after I realized that you are absolutely right, I do have a thing for him. Which, fuck you—”
“What did I do?” Charity exclaimed, speaker phone cutting out from how high pitched her voice went.
“Made me aware of it. Which brings me to point number two of the same topic. Holy fuck I have feelings for our fucking priest? Who the fuck does that?”
“You do, apparently,” she snorted.
“You’re hilarious. Stop. I’m going to pee myself,” Illias deadpanned.
Charity huffed. “I am hilarious. But keep going.”
Illias rolled his eyes even though he knew she couldn’t see him. “As I was saying, who develops feelings for their priest, of all people? That makes him the most unattainable person in existence.”
“Well, clearly not. You said you two are in some sort of like no strings attachment thing, right?”
“Yeah,” he answered, gears in his brain turning.
“Which means, A, he obviously finds you attractive, and, B, is interested in you enough to entertain whatever it is you two are doing,” she stated matter-of-factly. “So, you’re stressing over nothing.”
Illias made a noise. “I wouldn’t say nothing. It’s not like I can ask him to leave the church for me.”
“Well, yeah, I wouldn’t go that far. But you can definitely see if he’s interested in something more, ya know, more committed. Long term maybe. Plant the seed, see if it grows.”
His stomach knotted at the thought of so much as admitting out loud to Cantrell that he wanted the no-strings attachment to have strings. “Charity, I have the worst green thumb imaginable. So, the chances of anything growing is slim to none.”
Charity groaned. Illias could practically see her throwing her head back in exasperation. “I take back what I said about you not being stupid. You are the world’s largest dumbass that has ever dumbassed.”
“Wow, thank you for your unconditional love and support. I am so glad we had this talk.” Each word out of his mouth reeked of sarcasm.
“You know what? Ever since high school, you’ve acted like this.
Like feelings are below you or something, but news flash, you’ve got ’em, dude.
And it’s okay to feel them and not understand why or how or what to do with them.
What’s not okay though, is bottling it up and pretending that they don’t exist until it becomes a massive issue.
Which is what you do every single time you feel something that is mildly inconvenient to you.
So quit being so stubborn and let yourself feel.
You might find out that it’s not that bad. ”
A dog barked in the background, and Charity let out a groan. “I gotta go. I love you, but stop being an idiot.”
Before Illias could get another word in, Charity ended the call. He drove in silence the rest of the way to his mom’s house, stop being an idiot repeating like a scratched record.
Sitting in the middle of his mom’s living room, surrounded by dozens of photo albums and about three dozen shoe boxes filled to the brim with photos, was not how Illias expected to spend his visit with his mom, but he couldn’t deny that it was nice revisiting the past. He picked up a photo album with the words “Our story” written across it in his mom’s handwriting.
He flipped through the yellow-tinged plastic pages.
The album laid out the story of how his parents got together, starting with who they were before meeting each other and ending with a picture of their wedding day.
He went back a few pages to a photo of his parents standing together in front of a Ferris wheel.
His dad’s arm was wrapped around his mom’s waist, and they both had the widest grins Illias had ever seen.
Underneath it was a photo of them kissing.
Heat flooded Illias' cheeks as he thought about last night, how close he and Cantrell came to kissing. He brushed his thumb over the photo. Would Cantrell ever do something like this with me?
“What’s on your mind, honey?” his mom asked. “I can practically see the gears in your head turning.”
He looked over at where she sat in her recliner with her own box of photos. Her eyes, tender and full of love, were already on him. He glanced down at the photo album, cheeks on fire. “When did you realize you liked Dad?” he asked, afraid of saying the other word as childish as it was.
“I think a part of me knew from the moment I met him. I was just too stubborn and afraid to realize it. Why do you ask?”
Illias shrugged, flipping to the next page. “Just curious I guess.”
“Curious? Or wondering how to tell if you like someone?” She said the word like in a way that made Illias stomach knot. “Do you want to talk about it?”
Illias closed the photo album and sat it on top of the stack he got it from.
“There’s this guy that I’ve been seeing”—sneaking around with—“and he’s got this…
job”—he’s our priest—“that kinda gets in the way of us seeing each other. I didn’t think that I liked him at first, but the longer we talk and see each other, the more I think I want to be with him. ” That I might want more.
“How long have you two been seeing each other?”
Since I got back to Dunwich basically. “I don’t know, a while.”
“It can be hard to figure out exactly how you feel about someone. It’s not easy discerning between lust and love.
But…” She looked down at the photo she was holding.
“If you’re willing to sit down and share a meal with them without the expectation of anything else because time with them is sweeter than life, then”—she looked back at him, her smile a little sweeter and eyes a little brighter— “you’ve got your answer. ”
Illias nodded, trying to make sense of what she said.
Sure, the most content he’d been was after his and Cantrell’s scene, when they were just lying on the couch talking.
And maybe he did want to experience that kind of tender closeness again without anything happening.
Certainly, that didn’t really mean anything though.
Illias could have that closeness with anyone.
His stomach rolled at the idea of anyone but Cantrell seeing him like that. Vulnerable. Soft.
The door popped open, distracting Illias from his thoughts. Henry walked into the living room, pausing by the door to heel off his shoes. “Hey honey,” he greeted Illias’ mom first, then regarded him. “Illias, nice to see you.”
An ugliness reared its head inside Illias that he held back, not wanting to ruin the facade of peace between them. “How’re you?” Illias asked.
“Tired, but that’s normal these days I’m afraid.” He hung his shoulder bag on the hooks next to the door. “How about yourself?”
“Same as always.”
The stiff, unnatural flow of the conversation made it clear neither of them knew how to navigate around the other.
There was too much left unspoken between them.
Illias wondered if it would always be this way, never truly feeling at ease with the other.
Knowing there was no undoing what had transpired between them, no taking back the harsh words both hurled at one another.
Illias’ mom clapped her hands, drawing both men’s attention to her. “I am going to start on dinner. Hon, are you able to join us?”
“Not tonight,” Illias answered. “I’ve got to get down to Saint Anthony’s before it gets dark. I’ve got one more bed to make for the garden.”
“That’s fine, hon.” She stood. “Don’t worry about cleaning up, I’ll handle it.”
Illias got to his feet and gave her a hug. “I’ll call you.”
“Sounds good. I’m glad you came over today. Drive safe.”
“I’ll see you out,” Henry offered, then opened the door.
Illias slipped on his shoes while he wished his mom a goodnight. As he walked out the door, Henry followed behind. “Before you head out, can we have a quick talk?”
“Make it quick,” Illias said with a small sigh.
“I wanted to apologize again. For how awful I treated both you and Lauren.” Henry held up a hand when Illias opened his mouth. “I know that doesn’t make up for anything. It most likely never will, but…” He lowered his hand and sighed. “We need to find a way to make things work. For her.”
Illias froze. Every fiber of his being wanted to leave. To ignore the confrontation. Pretend that everything was fine. “I know,” he said, caught between frustration and remorse. “I just…” He shoved his hands into his pockets. “I need time.”
“Of course." Henry looked like he was about to reach towards Illias but he crossed his arms instead. “Whenever you’re ready. I’ll be here. I know I haven’t been the best person to talk to, but I’m trying to change that. I don’t want to be the reason why we aren’t a family anymore.”
Pressure built in the back of Illias’ skull and his body grew warm.
An instinctual need to run and hide flooded his body.
He repressed it, thinking about what Charity said on the phone, and swallowed past the growing lump in his throat.
“I don’t either,” he admitted. “I know my temper hasn’t been the best, still isn’t really, and that hasn’t helped. ”
“Like Lauren said, you get it from me,” Henry joked dryly.
“Wild, since I’m not even your kid.” Illias shifted his weight, thinking of what to say next. “Speaking of, I know I wasn’t an easy kid—”
“What kid is easy?” Henry interjected with a huff.
“Kids aren’t meant to be easy, they’re kids.
But I…” Henry took a deep breath through his nose and looked out across the yard.
“I didn’t act like a father, so I don’t expect you to forgive me.
Especially not after what I said to you.
” A small, humorless laugh left Henry. “You’ve got one Hell of a right hook by the way,” he said, a small smile tugging at his lips.
Illias stared at his feet while he rubbed the back of his neck. “About that, I’m—”
“Don’t,” Henry said firmly. “I deserved it.”
Illias looked up, shocked and confused.
“You stood up for yourself and I’m proud of you for that. I know I haven’t said that in a while, but I am. Really.”
Illias looked away, sniffling as tears threatened to roll down his cheeks. “Fuck, shut up,” he grumbled. “Don’t go getting all soft on me. You asshole,” he said, faking a small laugh to hide the crack in his voice.
“That’s what happens when you get old,” Henry said, his own voice a little watery. “You get soft and sentimental.”
Illias wiped at his eyes, side eyeing Henry with a mild glare. “Don’t expect us to start hugging just because you’re senile now.”
Henry let out a gruff laugh. “I said sentimental, not senile.”
Illias waved his hand with a false scoff. They stood there for a moment in silence, stuck between crying or laughing. Illias took a shaky breath. “I’ve got to get going before it gets too late. I’ll see you around.”
“See you around,” Henry agreed.
Illias left the porch, feeling like he could breathe a little easier for the first time in almost a decade. He stopped half way to his car and looked over his shoulder only to see Henry looking at him. With a light, cautious smile, Illias waved back. Maybe there is a way to fix this.