19. Chapter 14
Chapter 14
Stone
T he crushing weight stinging throughout my arms and into my chest feels like due punishment.
“Push it, mate!” Stanton claps his hands, creating a loud environment for me to get swept into. Using the adrenaline from the workout, from the reasoning for this late night session, and from his encouragement, I shove the barbell upwards and rack it with a loud clanging sound.
“Atta, boy. Is that a new max?” he questions while I catch my breath. He moves to stand in front of me as I straddle the workout bench I was just laying on.
“Sure is.”
He playfully punches my shoulder, but I don’t feel it because my entire body has become absent of nerves. We’ve been in the gym for over an hour, and while Stanton has worked out about half that time, I’ve been going.
And going.
And going .
I dropped Lucy off at her apartment after a bowling date with Stanton and his wife earlier tonight, and well, I asked Lucy if I could come inside for a while and she turned me down.
I’m disappointed not because she turned me down but because I shouldn’t have asked.
After we returned from Dasher Valley earlier in the month, she confided in me about how she felt convicted over us having sex and wanted to try and stop. Not going to lie, it upset me, though I didn’t let her see it. The guilt is there for me, too, but I’ve shoved it down for years; it’s barely an inkling of a feeling at times. I’ve tried to be better for her since I can see she’s struggling with guilt and I don’t want to add to it, but it’s so hard when I already know what she’s capable of in bed…
The images I play over and over in my head aren’t fantasies.
So alas, I found myself wide awake and high on thoughts of her after going home, and when midnight rolled around, I couldn’t stand it anymore.
“Okay, mate. Now tell me why you dragged me away from my wife in the middle of the night.” Stanton yanks me up from the bench, and I follow him to the lockers to retrieve our belongings. No one else is in the facility, so I can freely talk.
“To be honest? I couldn’t seem to get Lucy off my mind, if you catch my drift.” He raises his eyebrows, but I continue. “Look, you’re the one who said I should stop the whole sex before marriage stuff. This is me trying, dude. Midnight gym sessions.” Trying for her more than for myself, but he doesn’ t need to know that.
Stanton laughs and wipes sweat off his forehead with a rag. “That’s hunky-dory,but have you considered taking your inclinations to the Lord?”
“Of course I do,” I half-way lie. He catches it in my tone instantly and shoves me. “Okay, okay. I try. I do pray occasionally. I ask Him to help me. But it seems to be a dead end. It’s not working. The only thing that is semi-working is actively doing something to distract myself.” Occasionally meaning like once a week because every time I try it feels absolutely useless and only heightens my desire for Lucy because I start to think about the very things I’m attempting to give up for her.
He nods thoughtfully as we walk out of the gym. “As you should. That is a productive, healthy way to redirect.” He pauses for a second before continuing. “In my experience, God doesn’t remove things to make our paths easier, but He is there for us to turn to when the blockage feels too intense—too enormous—to maneuver around. You know, to show us and remind us that we need Him.”
I don’t respond as I chew on his words. We arrive at our vehicles, and Stanton waits for me to reply as I open my driver door and throw my gym bag into the passenger seat. I envision Lucy there with her feet on the dash singing to Morgan Wallen as we drove to the bowling alley earlier.
It’s then I speak words I’ve only thought in the recesses of my brain, words that I haven’t allowed myself to vocalize on the account of causing my father to roll over in his grave. “If He brought Lucy into my path as an obstacle, I’m not so sure I want to continue attempting to follow Him. Lucy has helped me heal in so many ways. Yes, she’s as big of a temptation as ever. I mean, look at her. But not only that, she’s kind, intelligent, sensitive, funny, and… And she honestly cares about me. My past scars, my life growing up, and my dreams moving forward.” I pause, my breaths coming heavier as my voice rises. “Why would God put a woman like her, someone I could so easily break because I’m weak when it comes to sexual desire, in my path as an obstacle to overcome?”
I meet Stanton’s brown eyes. He presses his lips into a line and gives his head a small shake. “I don’t have the answers, Stone, but I’m here for you. Even if you feel like doubting God. I will stand by your side until you come out on the other end of it. Because you will come out on the other side. You need to evaluate why you’re weak when it comes to sexual temptation.”
He says nothing else as he gets in his car and drives away, leaving me standing under a parking lot light with a million questions that have zero answers.
Lucy
Nights are the hardest.
It’s in the dark abyss of my bedroom when the feeling sinks in.
The loneliness that stalks me all day finally catches me. Even the monster that hides under the bed flees at the sight of this particular killer .
I’m alone. My only companionship comes from the rectangular digital device I hold in my hand where my online friends and community I’ve built through publishing interact with me. And while I supremely enjoy their company, they are locked away behind tempered glass, inaccessible to warm hugs and kind smiles and loud laughs.
As I scroll, feelings of imposter syndrome begin to creep in. My post about how God is good no matter what is receiving a lot of “likes” and “amens,” but why did I even post it? I’m finding I don’t quite believe it to be true these days.
If He’s so good, then why am I strangled with sexual temptation that seems to be squeezing me harder at every spiraling curve? It’s like no matter how much I beg and plead with God to take it away, He doesn’t. And for the life of me, I can’t figure out why. Hadley has asked me how I’m doing a couple of times over the past week since I finally confided in her and told her I had slipped up with Stone—many, many times—and all I can tell her is that I’m still struggling and don’t know why. I don’t know what happened other than I have a hot man in my life who knows how to please my body. But even before, with the past few boyfriends I’ve had prior to Stone who looked as if they could please me, I’ve remained clean. Why I’m struggling like this now, I have no idea. I was clean from sex for a few years…
It’s mid-September now, and it’s only getting worse and worse every time I’m with him. Last week, I confessed I was torn up over the fact we kept sleeping together. And I’ve seen a real effort out of him to not pull me into temptation. But it’s been a week since we last did it, and when he asked to come inside after dropping me off from a bowling night with friends, I almost said yes. I don’t know how I stopped, but I did.
I fear my resolve is unraveling, however. That’s what I told my journal tonight, at least.
If losing Stone is the only way off this winding road, then I’m not so sure I want to take the exit. What has God done for me anyways since I’ve stopped? Given me more dreams? Made my stomach ache with desire? Increased the area of this dark cloud of depression hovering over my head?
I don’t even know why I’m refraining at this point. Why do I need to wait until I’m married to have sex? What’s the big deal?
This is the big deal, something inside me whispers. You are looking to him to save you from your sadness instead of Me.
I hit the ignore button.
Dating Stone over the past few months has been the most fun I’ve ever had. When I’m with him, I forget about the haunting loneliness. Yes, my body and brain seem to be living in a constant state of depression to where I’m somehow not allowed to experience full bliss and joy no matter how much I want to, but I’m still determined to shake it off. Being with Stone helps. It takes the edge off. He makes me happy. Even if I’m an even bigger ball of anxiety than I was a few weeks ago and still scared he’s going to for sure leave me now that I’ve asked to refrain from sex.
Why am I doing that again? What’s the point?
I don’t want to lose him.
I don’t want this to ever end.
It’s more than the obvious chemical and hormonal bonding of sex. Yes, that’s definitely had its effect. It sucks in a way because I think a lot of my anxiety stems from being bonded to him in that way when I don’t have a ring on my finger signaling a permanent commitment. Why do I need a ring to have sex with him anyway? In my heart, I—
The thought hits me upside the head like I once knocked Stone unconscious with a cast iron skillet.
Stone is everything I want.
He’s been open and honest with me about his past. He checks on me in his own little ways. While he doesn’t attempt to fix my overarching sadness, he does crack jokes and gives me random gifts like Ferrero Rochers, my favorite chocolate, or shows up randomly to take me out somewhere when it registers with him that I’m sad.
It’s unbelievably sweet. He’s not who I pegged him to be. His flirt game is as strong as ever, but he’s also considerate and listens to me. He helps me with my writing and listens to me drone on and on over story ideas. He never tries to tell me to stop singing in the car, to get my feet off his dash, or that I’m expecting too much by waiting in the passenger seat for him to open my door.
Because he does open it.
Every. Single. Time.
And I love that man.
I think, in my heart, I’m already married to him…
And shouldn’t that mean more than a lousy ring?
Part of me says of course while another part says there’s something more. That there’s a reason I’m supposed to wait even if I can’t see it or understand it right now.
God, if You even care. If You even exist. If I refrain from sex with him, will You allow me to keep him forever?