14. Trinity
Chapter 14
Trinity
Reuben enters Father Gabriel’s apartment with a large, covered tray in his burly arms. At first he stares at something only he can see, but as soon as he notices me, it’s like I’m the only person left in the entire world.
I’ve never had someone look at me like this before.
It’s unnerving.
And provocative.
Every nerve ending in my body switches on.
That look must only last a second, but it feels like an eternity that Reuben and I lock eyes. Then he drops his gaze, and it’s as if I’ve ceased to exist.
“Thank you, child,” Gabriel says as Reuben sets down the tray between us.
Reuben lifts the lid and goes to put it down on the counter in the dinette area. “Do you need anything else, Father?” he asks in his deep, melodic voice.
Gabriel waves at him. “That’ll be all for now, child. Come back later to collect the dishes.”
Reuben turns to leave, and Gabriel stands to dish up food from the set of small dishes on the tray. I’m watching Reuben’s back so I don’t notice at first Gabriel is dishing up for me.
“You’re looking a little thin, Trinity,” Gabriel says. “Though I’m sure the past month has played havoc with your appetite.”
“What?” I look down at my plate. There isn’t room for another pea. “Wow…that’s a lot of food.”
“Your mother used to lose weight whenever she was upset. I can’t remember how many pies I brought to your house, hoping to get her appetite started.”
I don’t remember any pies.
Reuben’s walking even slower than before, as if he’s listening to our conversation. It makes me want to yell at Gabriel to shut up. I don’t want Reuben to know anything about me. He made it clear he thinks I’m up to no good. He’ll use anything he can against me.
Even my dead parents.
“My first class was a success,” I rattle out.
It was the first thing I could think of, and the worst choice of words. Today was the furthest from a success. Hopefully Gabriel isn’t exactly going to interview Jasper about my teaching skills any time soon.
“Is that so?” Gabriel returns to his seat as Reuben slips out the door.
It’s as if the provost had already forgotten Reuben was here. I’m not surprised; despite his size Reuben makes less noise than a cat, especially on these carpets. Is he one of the kids that have been at Saint Amos for so long he’s just another gear in the machine?
“Well, it’s still early days, of course, but I really do think teaching is something I’d like to do.”
Gabriel takes a sip of his wine. Where my plate is practically splitting under the weight of all the food he piled on it, there’s oceans of white china between his servings. I’ve never seen a chicken breast look so lonely before.
“You should attempt a full class during summer break.”
I almost drop my fork. “Yeah. I’ll look into that.” I gulp at my soda and try to think of something to change the subject again.
My only intention is to score brownie points. But if I’m not careful, I’ll have agreed to run a summer class for half the school before dinner is over.
“Does the school host anything fun during summer break?” I ask before shoving a fork full of food into my mouth.
Gabriel shakes his head, and then frowns up at me. He tuts quietly. “That’s right. I must have forgotten to mention it. Saint Amos is closing over summer break. First time in almost five years, actually.”
Closing?
Closing!
“Closing how?” I sit back in my seat. He wasn’t wrong about my appetite—it comes and goes with my mood. I never eat when I’m uneasy, and for some reason his announcement fills me with dread.
“The students are leaving.” Gabriel chews on a piece of chicken for a moment, looking thoughtful. He washes it down with a sip of wine and then puts down his cutlery. “We have extensive maintenance work to undertake. Several sections of the building will be cordoned off. It’s just safer to send the students away until we reopen in the fall.”
I put my cutlery down too. “Where are they going?”
“Some of our students are going home, or visiting extended family. The rest will be boarding at Sisters of Mercy in Devon.”
Those that don’t have homes.
“Like me?”
He nods. “Maybe you’ll like it so much you decide to stay.”
I swallow down more soda, but my mouth is still dry.
I’ve been codependent my entire life. I didn’t have a choice, really. Not with parents who refused to send me to a regular school. The thought of what Father Gabriel’s telling me sets my heart to racing.
“But I can stay here if I want?”
“Not during the break, but if you decide to return with the other students…” he spreads his hands, that absent smile of his not shifting one iota.
Then he pushes away his plate in favor of nursing his glass of wine. He takes a few sips as I try to get back into my meal, but it’s impossible with him watching.
After a minute or so, he stands and goes over to the fireplace. He keeps his back to me as he lights a cigarette and takes a long drag.
“I’m not pushing you away, Trinity.” He turns, smoke jettisoning from his nose. “I just want you to be happy. You’re not happy here.”
I hastily swallow. “But I am, Father. Really, I am.”
“Don’t lie to me, child.” He puts his head to the side, his smile turning hard. “I know it can’t be easy, a girl— woman— like you—” he points at me with the hand holding his cigarette “—surrounded by men.”
What the hell am I supposed to say to that? It feels like a trap, like he wants me to admit I can’t make it. That I want him to treat me like the friend I thought I was. That I need him to make an exception for the poor little girl who just lost her parents.
“I know these boys too well.” He runs his fingers through his hair, takes another drag. His exhale obscures the fire for a moment. “So many troubled youths beneath this roof, Trinity. It would turn your hair white to hear their stories.” He reaches out and flicks his cigarette ash into the ashtray.
“I know it won’t be easy,” I say as I slowly get to my feet. I hesitate, and then join him by the fire. “But…”
Lord, why is this so difficult to say?
“You’re all I have left.”
He glances at me for a second before his eyes go back to the fire. “You know that’s not true, Trinity.”
My chest fills with molten lava.
This again?
Really?
My hands are in fists, but it seems there’s no way I can possibly unfurl them. If my feet weren’t rooted to the spot, I’d storm out of here.
Why the fuck did I even come?
He always does this. He turns things around and makes it seem like it’s your fault. That it’s always been your fault, and you were too stupid and too egotistical and too?—
vain
—to realize it.
“You know what?” I whirl to face him. My dress feels like a cheese grater against the inside of my wrists. “I should go to Sisters of Mercy. In fact, why don’t I just go there right now since it’s obvious you don’t want me here.”
I don’t wait for his reply. My dress scrapes against my legs as I charge for the door leading out of this hell hole.
It’s not just his cigarette smoke giving me a headache. Tears are waiting to fall.
Father Gabriel can say what he wants, I’m not biting.
My parents believed .
In God.
In the church.
In Father Gabriel.
Their lives—and subsequently, mine—were formed around the concept God is love. They say he notices when a damn swallow falls, but he couldn’t be bothered to save two cherished members of his flock?
I don’t give a fuck about me—God and me, we’ve never really been on speaking terms—but my parents deserved better than having their brains smeared over the tarmac because they hit a patch of ice.
I jerk at the door handle, but somehow Gabriel locked it when I wasn’t looking because it won’t open.
A hand appears, grasps mine, draws my fingers away.
I snatch it back. “Let go,” I snap.
I try the door again. Gabriel slings a hand around my waist and drags me back.
“Let me go!” I shriek.
He lifts me bodily, and I start kicking and screaming like I’m possessed.
I’m vaguely aware Gabriel’s trying to get me to calm down, but I can’t stop fighting him.
I won’t.
I’m a bottle of soda someone’s been shaking and shaking and shaking.
Gabriel’s just popped open the tab.
“I can’t let you go,” comes Gabriel’s voice as I pause to draw breath. “Our holy Father won’t allow it, child.”
“Fuck you!” I beat at him with my fists, and he finally releases me when I land a blow to his midsection. “Fuck you, and fuck your God!” I stagger, stab a finger toward him. “You weren’t there. He wasn’t there. Never. Not once!”
Gabriel rushes forward, and I try to block him. But he’s obviously had practice at calming down hysterical members of his clergy. He sidesteps easily before wrapping me in his arms and squeezing the life out of me.
My legs become weak and rubbery. Soon, they can no longer hold my weight.
We sink to the carpet. My ragged sobs and Gabriel’s heavy breathing as he resists my struggles are the only sound for a moment. This close, he smells of red wine and cigarettes and a woody cologne.
There’s a crash.
I hiccup in fright and turn to the door.
Reuben’s standing there, shoulders bunched and hands held in blades. There’s a look of such avid determination in his black eyes that I shrink away.
Inadvertently seeking comfort in Gabriel’s arms.
“I heard…” Reuben cuts off.
“Everything is under control,” the provost says.
Bitter words line up on my tongue, but I can’t say anything with these hitching lungs of mine.
“Please, child.” Gabriel’s voice is tight, but calm. “Just take the dishes and leave. This does not concern you.”
There’s a clatter of crockery and cutlery as Reuben cleans the apartment.
Gabriel and I are still on the floor, and the fact has a wave of shame rolling through me. I turn and burrow my head against Gabriel’s chest, and let a month’s worth of anger, and hurt, and fear pour out of me.
So what if Reuben sees?
So what if the whole world knows how weak and pathetic I am?
It doesn’t matter.
Because I don’t matter.
If I did, then I’d still have my parents. I’d still be happy.
But I don’t matter to anyone anymore.
Not even God.