25. Theo
TWENTY-FIVE
THEO
Time really is an abstract concept.
It passes before you know it, taking everything but fleeting memories, leaving nothing behind but the feeling that you’re not living your own life. It bulldozes through you and makes you question whether certain things ever happened at all.
I haven’t seen Matteo since I left Camp Acceptance.
I don’t mean just outside of Mass; I mean I haven’t seen him at all. Somebody I don’t recognize has been taking his place on Sundays, and marriage counseling has paused. I don’t know where he’s gone or if he’s coming back, but with every day that passes, something inside me passes, too.
“Ow, Theo. You’re hurting me,” Clara whispers, snatching her hand away.
I hadn’t realized how tightly I was holding Clara’s hand. We’re sitting in the church for Christmas Eve Mass, waiting for the service to begin. I’m on the edge of my seat as I wonder if this will be the time when Matteo returns. I need to see him just one more time. I didn’t know our moment at camp would be the last one, and it’s not fair. If I knew I'd never see him again, I would have…
The ringing of the music echoes through the church and everybody rises as the procession begins. I hold my breath as the altar boys walk in, hoping he’s not here but giving thanks to gods I don’t believe in when he appears. My shoulders relax and I feel the tension I’ve been carrying these last two weeks fade away.
He’s just as beautiful as I remember him. All man with his hard jaw covered in light stubble and his Adam’s apple that bobs with every step he takes. He’s so refined on the outside, regal in a way only a priest can be, but I know how secretly filthy he is.
I know what makes him twitch with pleasure. I've seen the look on his face when he comes. I know what he tastes like.
Don’t get hard in a fucking church.
He passes by me and my heart breaks a little when he doesn’t look my way. I try not to take it personally as the service begins but it grows to be a little ridiculous. We got here early enough to choose seats at the very front, so as the Mass progresses, it’s like he’s making it a point to avoid looking in my direction.
It’s so hypocritical to want his eyes on me. On a subconscious level, I keep glancing in his direction, although I don’t mean to. It’s like I want him to think of me, even though I am actively trying not to crave him.
I hold my breath all throughout Mass, watching how his large hands clasp in front of him as he prays, following the movement of his lips as he speaks, and searching for some sort of recognition in his eyes. It’s all a daze until my favorite part—his homily.
Matteo steps off the altar, working his way through the pews like he normally does, smiling softly as he greets the congregation. “I want to start by apologizing for my recent absence and would like to continue by wishing everyone a merry Christmas Eve.”
Is he being intentionally vague? Fuck Christmas Eve, I want to know where he was and what he was doing.
And if he was doing anything with anybody else.
“If you were paying attention to tonight’s gospel, you’ll know what we’re going to discuss today.”
“God!”
Everyone but me chuckles at Old Man Crafter’s response. Matteo huffs fondly and waves him away. “Very clever. Yes, we’re going to be talking about God, but I want to touch on the subject of love.”
Marcy clarifies. “God’s love, right?”
Matteo stiffens for a second, but I don’t think anyone else noticed. It was so subtle, just a little clench of his jaw and a twitch of his fingers. I lean forward in my seat, eager to hear his words.
“Of course, it’s important to talk about God’s love, but you know that I like to make things more practical,” he starts, walking down the aisle. “I was thinking we could talk about what it means to love and be loved.”
“Can I share?” Don asks, raising his hand sheepishly. “Sydney and I have been married for over thirty years, so I think I know a bit about love.”
Matteo chuckles and nods. “By all means.”
“Love is… well, it’s the closest we can get to God’s grace, right?” he asks, reaching to hold his wife’s hand. “It’s the greatest thing to love and be loved in return.”
“You’re right,” Matteo says. “Love is all-encompassing, whether you love your child or your partner. Love is meant to be treasured, to be held close to your heart, to not be taken advantage of or taken lightly.”
I nod along with everyone else, but I wonder where he’s going with this.
“Do you think we should risk love?” he questions, cocking his head to the side as he clasps his hands in front of him. “Do you think it’s something that should just be thrown away?”
“Of course not,” Clara speaks up, grabbing onto my hand. “You should fight for love. Taking risks and almost losing it is the worst thing I could think of.”
Matteo nods. “Exactly.”
And then his eyes land on me.
I swallow harshly because I get what’s happening now and I don’t think I’ve ever felt this targeted in my entire life. Everything in me runs cold, and I’m afraid Clara’s going to feel my sweaty hand in hers.
“Losing love sometimes means compromise. It means letting go of some of your desires because you understand its value.” His eyes move away from mine, but I know he’s speaking directly to me now. “Don’t make any rash decisions that could ruin it. The world has little room for regrets, but I believe that’s one you would carry for the rest of your life.”
I zone out of the rest of his talk because I can only focus on one thing. He’s telling me in his own way to let him go. I just know it. His absence and subsequent implications are clear as day.
So why does my heart skip a beat and fill with a warmth I’ve never felt before?
I don’t think he realizes what’s happening to me. His purpose sorely missed its mark because I want him more than ever now. I want to hold him against my bare chest and feel his cheek over my heart. I want him to know that every beat calls out his name whether I like it or not.
He thinks it’s not worth the risk? He thinks I should let go?
Absolutely fucking not.