CHAPTER FIFTEEN
ALEXANDRA JONES
CHURCH WAS NEVER FOR ME.
“From dust you came, to dust you shall return. Jesus Christ, our Saviour, shall raise you up on the last day…” the priest speaks.
The irony is that my mother is forcing me to sit down next to Clark while he mourns his father, though he didn’t shed not a single tear and actually seemed sort of happy about it. His mother on the other hand was sobbing into my mum’s chest, and I felt nothing but guilty.
I knew who did it.
And now I know why.
He did it for me, he did it because he saw what has happened.
I glance down at the necklace resting in the palm of my hands before glancing up as a few people begin speaking about Mr Johnson, my fingers slowly graze my bottom lip-remembering how he kissed me.
A part of me wanted him to kiss me some more.
I shouldn’t be thinking like this at a funeral, I look to my right as Clark fidgets with the untouched tissue in his hands. Staring at the coffin.
The funeral service had emptied, and the sober atmosphere in the church left only Clark and me behind. Sat in the same place.
“I’m sorry for your loss, Clark,” I whisper, my voice filled with empathy. He turns his head, and his blue eyes locked with mine, revealing the pain he was trying to hide.
“It’s not like you killed him,” he said bitterly, looking at the coffin that held his father’s lifeless body.
Funny, because it felt like I did.
What if I never spoke about how Mr Johnson made me feel uncomfortable in front of Ares, maybe he wouldn’t be dead, and this funeral wouldn’t be happening.
“I don’t even care, to be honest. He was nothing but a fucking scumbag,” My eyes slightly widen, shocked from how he spoke about his dead father. The strained relationship with his father was now tainted by death, and he was trying to navigate the confusing emotions surrounding the loss.
“I’m sorry you had to go through that,” I said.
“I hated him so much. I’m actually glad he’s dead,” Clark admits, his pain evident in his words. I leaned back in my seat, giving him space to express his emotions. “Whoever killed him, they did me a fucking favour- sorry God.”
“Why?” I ask softly, wanting to understand the reasons.
“Because I’m gay, Alexandra,” he revealed, and my eyes slightly widen in surprise. “I like men. He found out, and he beat me, said I was nothing but a sin.”
Clark is gay.
“They even tried to force me to marry you.”
Just because he’s gay? They were going to force him into a marriage that he didn’t even want because he had feelings for the other sex.
“No offence, but you’re not my type at all,” Clark suddenly said, breaking the heavy tension between us. I couldn’t help but chuckle, relieved that he found a moment of humour amidst the darkness.
“No offence taken,” I reply, unable to stop laughing.
“Not saying you’re not pretty, you’re absolutely beautiful-”
“It’s okay Clark,” I chuckle. “You don’t need to explain how you’re not attracted to me.”
“How about we get out of here? Go to a burger place and eat our sorrows away,” he suggested, looking down at me.
“I don’t mind, but you’re going to have to convince my mum.”
“Easy,” he said, standing up, and I followed suit. “You’re not as bad as I thought, Alexandra.”
“Oh, I am, really bad,” I tease, rolling my eyes.
“No, I thought you were a judgmental Catholic, but it turns out to be the other way,” he teased back, shoving me playfully.
We made our way outside and spotted my mother speaking to Mrs. Johnson.
“Oh, Clark, my love, how are you?” Mum greeted him warmly, and Clark gave her a slight nod.
“Good, Mrs. Jones. Would you mind if I take Alexandra out for dinner?”
My mother’s eyes widened a little, and she glanced down at me. Great, she probably thinks it’s my idea and is going to give me a fat headache about putting her on the spot later- “I promise to bring her back before ten and to make sure she is safe,” Clark added, sounding sincere and responsible.
“No touching or anything...” my mother started to say, but Clark quickly interjected, “of course not, Mrs. Jones, not a hair on her head.”
I held my breath, hang on, is my strict mother actually considering this? To my surprise, she sighed before finally nodding her head.
“Okay, bring her back before ten! You only have three hours,” she instructed, rubbing my shoulders affectionately. I try to contain my excitement as I squirm inwardly, following Clark as we left the church.
Once outside, I couldn’t help but smile as Clark and I set off on our little adventure. It felt even better knowing I’m not hiding this from my parents, it felt good knowing that I don’t need to lie about where I have been. We arrived at the burger place, and Clark graciously pushed the door open for me as we found a seat and placed our orders.
“So, are you just a boring Catholic? Or do you actually have a life?” Clark asked playfully as we waited for our food. I gave him a small smile, glancing around the place before deciding to reveal my recent tattoo to him. I pulled down my shirt slightly, and his eyes widened in surprise.
“No fucking way,” he gasps.
“Got it done a couple of weeks ago, actually,” I said, feeling a sense of pride in sharing this little piece of my rebellious side with him.
“Does your mum know?” He asks, a mischievous smile playing on his lips.
I smirk. “I’m still alive, so I guess not.”
“Wow, Alexandra Jones, what else are you hiding? A secret boyfriend?” He teased, trying to prod for more. I tense my jaw, not wanting to reveal too much, but my expression must have given something away. “No way,” he said, catching on to my reaction.
“He’s not my boyfriend... but he’s just complicated,” I speak.
“Complicated how?” He asks, leaning closer, intrigued about my life. Obviously, I wouldn’t tell anyone about Ares being Diávolos, that isn’t something to share. Not even with Catherine.
“He has too many secrets, and well... he’s sort of dangerous,” I confess, the weight of his existence resting heavily on my conscience.
“Everyone has secrets, Alexandra, and no one’s perfect,” Clark reassures me, his understanding and acceptance comforting.
As we continued our conversation, the waiter arrived with our food, momentarily interrupting our discussion.
“So, what about you? A crush on someone?”
“Actually, I do have a crush on someone,” Clark replies with a sly smile. “He’s a tattoo artist downtown, his name is Ares.”
My heart skips a beat as he mentioned Ares.
No way did Clark have a crush on the same person I did.
The same person I am supposed to not be thinking about but can’t get him out of my head.
The same person who killed his father for me.
The same person who kissed me.
The same person who vowed to do anything for me.
My mind raced, trying to process the coincidence and the potential complications.
“He’s literally my type on paper,” Clark continues, seemingly oblivious to the internal turmoil I’m experiencing. “That man could do whatever he wants to me.”
I muster a hesitant chuckle, trying to hide my true feelings. “No way, he’s the one who did my tattoo,” I whisper, not sure how Clark would react.
“I could tell, butterflies are his signature thing,” Clark remarked casually, dipping a fry into his sauce.
So then how the hell didn’t I notice? Am I really that oblivious of my surroundings?
My mind was in a whirlwind.
“But is he... interested in men?” I ask.
What if he is?
What if Ares is bi-sexual?
“I don’t know, and to be honest, I’m scared to ask him,” he admits, I begin to feel the weight of my own feelings for Ares. I took a deep breath, trying to steady my nerves.
Clark suddenly had an idea that caught me off guard.
“Hang on, what if you ask him?” He suggests, and I choke on my food in surprise.
“What?”
“Alexandra, please, just pretend you’re going for a tattoo and ask him,” Clark persists. “We’re friends, right?”
I was torn.
On one hand, I wanted to help Clark and warn him about Ares if necessary. On the other hand, I knew it could put me in a difficult position and potentially reveal more than I was ready to share.
Ares is mine.
“I... I don’t know,” I stammer, my mind racing with conflicting thoughts. I felt jealousy flood through my veins, and suddenly I want to shout and claim Ares all for myself.
He’s mine.
Ares is mine.
Ares likes me not Clark.
Ares killed someone for me, why would he do that if he didn’t feel anything for me? Or is this going to be another situation where I fall for someone who will end up with someone else?
Clark leans in; his eyes earnest. “Please, just do this for me. I need to know if there’s any chance, he might feel the same way.”
“Have you even had a conversation with him?”
He nods his head, “I have tattoos too Alexandra…only so I could spend some time with him.” I scratch the back of my neck and look into his eyes.
His father is dead because of me.
‘For you.’
Ares’ words ring in my head.
This is the least I could do, so I mustered up all the jealousy and nodded. “I’ll ask him tomorrow.”
“Thank you!”