Eva
Texting must have been invented by someone who had been estranged from someone at some point in his or her life because it soon became the best mode and most comfortable means to communicate with my mother. Maybe it was a little cowardly that I chose quick texts to check in with my mother to see how she was doing now that she was home from the hospital recuperating, but my mother didn’t seem to mind. In fact, her responses were quick, and she even added some emojis to her messages as if she was quite comfortable and seasoned at texting.
It was over a text that my mother asked if I wanted to join her and David for Sunday Mass. Her strength was returning, and she was ready to venture out if only to Mass at the church around the corner from her home. Not seeing the harm in it I had agreed via text. But to my surprise, a follow-up text came in alerting me that there had been a change in plans. They were now going to Jamie’s church, not their own parish.
Damnit!
How could I get out of this without making things look strange? I couldn’t. Which meant I would have to suck it up for an hour and do my best not to stare at the man I hadn’t stopped thinking about for weeks. I still didn’t know what I had been running on. I had purposefully thrown myself into my work and cases that other attorneys wouldn’t touch with a ten-foot pole. And because of my workaholic tendencies I hadn’t had a proper meal, at least not one worth writing home about, for days. My stomach was twisted in knots, making my desire to eat virtually nonexistent and my jeans baggier in the ass. Several of my colleagues had asked if I was feeling okay, if I was fighting an illness, but I assured them that I was perfectly fine. One of the partners seemed happy that I was working myself into the ground and remarked that Justin should indeed be scared. Apparently his chance of becoming partner was dwindling. I didn’t care about becoming partner. At one time I thought I did, that being a partner in such a prestigious firm such as Banks and Lowenstein was my ultimate goal. But now, in hindsight, it didn’t really matter to me if I made partner or not. I just wanted to continue doing what I was doing, and that was putting away one sick bastard at a time.
I spent over an hour getting ready, which was double the time it usually took. I settled on a simple black dress that fell just before my knee and black strappy heels. I finished the look with a black pea coat and a red scarf. It was appropriate for church, and the dress fit me better than my now baggy slacks.
Realizing how long I had taken to get ready for a simple Mass, one where I would see Jamie, I felt the overwhelming need to give myself a good swift kick in the ass. Frustrated, I went to St. Bede’s and found David and my mother seated in the second pew. David stood and kissed me on the cheek while my mother gave me a smile that reached her eyes. I couldn’t help but smile in return. I took my seat on the end next to David and the music began, signaling that the congregation was to stand and sing from their hymnals. I grabbed a hymnal from the holder and buried my head in it to avoid watching Jamie process by me. Which was stupid since I obviously couldn’t avoid looking at the altar the entire Mass. Maybe the sight of him decked out in his robes and actually saying Mass, something I had never witnessed before, would make me see the light, that this was real, that he was truly a priest and off limits. Maybe then I could move on.
The song ended and I returned the hymnal to the holder. I kept my eyes down, needing just a few more seconds before I had to lay eyes on him and then I heard his voice bellow from the pulpit. I looked up at him and met his steely gaze. Seeing him in his priestly garb and carrying out his duties did not curb my desire for him. In fact, it had done the exact opposite, causing me to shift restlessly in my seat. Visions of Jamie bending me over the very pew in which I was seated and turning my ass pink with his hand marks sent my body reeling. I shivered at the thought, at the way he was looking at me, like he was looking through me.
Throughout Mass I tried not to focus on the sound of his voice, but rather the words he spoke, the message he wanted to leave with his parishioners. During his homily, he preached about God’s forgiveness, how there was nothing He couldn’t and wouldn’t forgive if one was truly sorry for his or her sins. It was both beautiful and painful to hear because I knew he was talking about us. That he most likely had prayed to God for forgiveness for kissing me and that I should do the same.
But I couldn’t do that, not in good conscience. I didn’t regret kissing him or feeling him consume me. I might hate myself for what I had done, that I had made a man break his promise to God, but I couldn’t help what I felt. I wanted him again. I wanted to hear and see him let go and lose it while I was in his arms. I wanted to hear those naughty words flow easily past his full lips. As if it was natural, as easy as breathing for him to talk to me like that. There wasn’t a doubt in my mind that he liked rough sex, that in the bedroom he would be demanding and take from the woman as long as she liked it. And the Lord knew, and so did Jamie, that I certainly did. Goosebumps pimpled my skin as I recalled how he had made me come in that alley in broad daylight. I had never done something so bold, as if I couldn’t care less if some passerby on the street had been treated to a free show. That was the hottest thing I had ever done in my life. But based on the cold expression on Jamie’s chiseled face right now there would be no more shows, which meant that I needed to forget about him and try to move on with someone who was free to love me.
Jamie
I knew that I would eventually have to see her. Like on Christmas, which was two weeks away or New Year’s. Odds were good that she would stop over to see Marcia on one of those two holidays. So I was surprised as hell to look over and see the woman I couldn’t get out of my head or out from under my skin sitting in my second pew. Edward had been right. Putting distance between us wasn’t going to fix this because what I felt for Eva wasn’t lust; it was something much more and it scared the shit out of me.
After Mass had ended I met up with my dad, Marcia, and Eva at the back of the church. Marcia still looked a little frail, but she was definitely a lot stronger than even just a few days ago when I had visited her. I gave Eva a quick hello and forced myself not to stare at her or inhale her scent. I was grateful that my dad, like usual, was in a talkative mood. He remarked on my homily, how it had resonated with him and the upcoming holiday season. He then switched gears and shifted to a lighter topic and we started talking about the Eagles game scheduled for later that day. I tried to divide my attention and eavesdrop on Marcia and Eva’s conversation, but all I heard was something about a beach house and Stone Harbor, New Jersey. After several minutes I saw Marcia slowly walk over to the far side of the church and light a candle by herself, leaving me alone with my dad and Eva.
“Hey, would you two mind stopping at Springside Farm and picking up a Christmas tree for me? Marcia and I had every intention of picking one up ourselves after Mass today, but I think she needs to go home and rest. This is her first day out after surgery and I don’t want her overdoing it.”
“Ah, yeah. Sure, Dad. That’s no problem. I was coming over anyway to watch the game with you. Springside is right on the way.”
“Great. That would make her day. Marcia has commented twice that she is behind on her decorating due to her surgery,” my dad said.
“I’m not that surprised. Our tree was always up the week after Thanksgiving,” Eva said.
“So what do you say, Eva? Mind grabbing a tree with Jamie and heading over to our house to watch the game? I was planning on making a monster pot of chili,” my dad said, smiling ear to ear. My dad loved to cook, which had been fortunate growing up since my mother hadn’t cared for it too much. God love her, she had tried, but not a week would go by that she wouldn’t fill the house up with smoke or light some poor kitchen appliance on fire.
Eva glanced at me briefly but I could see the uncertainty in her eyes. She didn’t want to go tree shopping with me. She didn’t want to pretend that we were some big old happy family, and I couldn’t blame her. So it shocked me when she looked at my dad with confidence and said, “No problem. Can I bring something for the game? Jamie and I can grab some beer on the way.”
My dad wrapped his arm around her shoulders and smiled. “I like this girl. I think I’m going to keep you,” Dad said. He gave her a squeeze before he released her and then started to make his way over to Marcia when he said, “And that’s a yes to the beer.” Eva smiled back at him.
“I’ll just go and change. I’ll be right out.” I didn’t wait around for a response. Like a brat, I stormed off and escaped to the sacristy where I disrobed. I contemplated wearing my clerics to my dad’s to be the reminder I needed, but that would have appeared odd. I quickly went to the rectory and changed into jeans, sneakers and a sweatshirt. Eva was waiting in the same spot in which I had left her in the church. She didn’t say anything when I came to retrieve her, but I did notice her giving my attire a onceover.
We drove the entire way to the farm in awkward silence. Was this our new normal? Would it always be like this now? No, it wouldn’t. Because one day Eva would find someone, someone who wasn’t so conflicted, someone free to hold her hand in public and tell her how beautiful she was. Would that someone be Justin? Had she already started dating him? It had been two weeks since I saw her talking to him at the hospital. Had she fucked him? No. I couldn’t let my mind go there. It wasn’t healthy, and there wasn’t anything I could do if she were with Justin now. I needed to think about something else, something that didn’t make me picture Eva naked and beneath a man who I wanted to tear apart with my bare hands.
But that was easier said than done. My thoughts drifted to the night I had run into Eva and her friend Cassie at the Plough and the Star.
The club.
Had she done exactly what she had intended that night and let loose? Did she find a man who could give her what her body craved? I wanted to be sick. I wanted to know if she had ground her tight, gorgeous body against some sweaty asshole who didn’t deserve to even be in the same room as her. I wanted to demand that she tell me if she had fucked somebody that night.
But I couldn’t do that right now. Because I had agreed to go Christmas tree shopping.
Fuck!
I found a parking spot, which wasn’t too much of a challenge. Most people who liked to cut down their own Christmas tree had already claimed theirs by now. And that meant we wouldn’t have to fight the crowds today. But because we were late picking our tree we didn’t have much to choose from. That was until the farm’s owner came over to me and told me that Eva and I were welcome to look in the backfield, where he had a few more rows of Frasier firs if we were willing to make the ten-acre trek. I was game, and I was just about to ask Eva if she was okay with traipsing through the mud in high heels when she thanked the owner and started to make her way across the field. My first instinct was to run and catch up with her, but I stopped when I realized that watching her walk, catching a glimpse of her tight ass swaying back and forth was much more enjoyable. “Coming, Father?” she asked without turning around.
She knew I was watching her. I heard the smile in her voice. I also heard her call me Father, not Jamie. Which meant she wanted to remind me of my place. And that pissed me off and aroused the hell out of me. Angry and aroused was not a good combination, especially in a field where no one else was around to hear her screams, so I decided to start a conversation that would keep my cock from getting any harder than it already was. “What happened between you and your mother? I believe what you told me about her, how difficult it was to live with someone like that, but what was the final straw?”
Eva thrust her hands into the pockets of her pea coat and looked over at me. For a second I thought she was going to tell me to fuck off, but then she blew a stray lock of hair away from her eyes and said, “Things did die down during my junior year in school and the boys forgot about my romp in the hay with Viv’s brother, but one teacher, Mr. Jacobs, he hadn’t forgotten what he had heard his students discussing in his religion class. He had heard the gossip, the rumors, and apparently he wanted to know if they were true. It was after the final bell on that Friday before Christmas break when his curiosity and his cock got the best of him. I was alone, gathering my books and preparing to leave when he shut the classroom door and pinned me up against the wall. I can still hear his voice, smell his Listerine breath as I remember his hand disappearing beneath my skirt and then wedging his clumsy fingers inside my stockings. I tried to scream but his hand clasped over my mouth. His other fingers had found what he was searching for and before I knew it, he thrust two fingers into me. I wasn’t prepared for that, and it hurt like hell. He told me to stay still, that he would make me feel good, but all I felt was pain and shame and anger. It was the anger that I clung to and what drove me and my knee to rise swiftly and connect with his groin. The motherfucker’s hand slackened over my mouth and I bit down on his fingers until I tasted blood. While he was bent over cursing and gasping I ran out of there. I didn’t stop running until I got home, where I told my mother what had happened, that my religion teacher had assaulted me. She listened until I was done and then told me to get into the car. I was so relieved. My mother believed me, and I assumed we were on our way to the police station to report that bastard. Visions of that asshole behind bars getting violated in the shower by multiple cellmates kept me happy as we drove to the station. And then we passed it and I found myself at our church. My mother dragged me into that church and sat me in front of that same priest I had confessed my sins to before and proceeded to tell him that I had just committed a grievous sin, that I had lied and attempted to destroy a man’s life and career. That I was an oversexed whore who needed to be punished. The priest didn’t say much, just nodded and said the occasional, ‘I see.’ At the end of my mother’s rant he turned to me and asked me if I was sorry for what I had done, if I wished to ask God for forgiveness. I told him and my mother to go fuck themselves. My mother took me home. The next morning she came into my room and told me to pack my bags, that I would be spending the remainder of my junior year and my senior year at St. Mary’s Boarding School for Girls. She and that priest thought it would provide the discipline I needed. That it would humble me, that it would work the devil out of me or something. My mother left me at that school just two days before Christmas. Only a handful of girls were there, girls whose parents were too busy to be with their children for the holiday. I never went back home. Even for the summer. I spent my holidays and summer vacation with one of my classmate’s families. My mother didn’t call or write. She just paid the tuition and showed up for graduation the following year.”
I was thinking about which bastard I wanted to string up first. The teacher who had touched her, violated her. The priest who had tried to make her feel dirty and disgusting. Or her mother. My stepmother. The woman who didn’t believe her own child, the woman who had called her a whore.
“I remember my graduation day clearly. How happy I was, how fucking giddy I was to share the news with my mother the second I received my diploma. You see, the day before I was in my current events class and was reading the newspaper when I stumbled across a familiar face. Allen Jacobs had made the front page. There he was in all his bloated glory, looking grim and scared shitless for the camera. According to the article he had been arrested for rape and the stalking of two freshman students at my old high school. I had just stared at that photo in awe and then like a madwoman I had grabbed a pair of scissors and cut that article out along with his picture. So after I rounded the stage, shook my principal’s hand and flung my cap into the air with the rest of my classmates, I went to search for my mother in the crowd. I hadn’t seen her in over a year but I knew she would be there. I had been named valedictorian and was going to an Ivy League school on a full scholarship. This was her moment to gloat to her friends. But I wasn’t going to let her have it. I had earned that diploma, that scholarship all on my own. But I would give her one last parting gift. As the field was clearing out and my classmates were dispersing with their families to go out to dinner to celebrate, I walked over to my mother with my head held high. She smugly asked, ‘Do you have something to say to me?’ When I didn’t answer she asked, ‘An apology? A thank you for sending you here, to a place that could cleanse your soul, even one as corrupt as yours?’ Her words didn’t affect me. Because this woman was already dead to me. I just wanted to put the nail in the coffin. I withdrew that news article and held it in front of her face. I watched her eyes behind her glasses shift and feather over each disgusting word. Her already pale complexion grew ghostly white, and a trembling hand covered her heart. I told her, ‘I do have something to say to you. But it’s not I’m sorry or thank you. It’s goodbye.’ I left her like that, stunned and shaking. That night I took my few belongings from my room at school and checked into a hotel. I was eighteen and thanks to my deceased father and the money he had left for me to attend college I was more than secure. I had gotten a full ride, so I had plenty of money to live on. I was on a train to Cambridge the next morning and stayed in a hotel up there for a few weeks before I was able to move into the dorms at Harvard. The next time I spoke to or saw my mother was at your father’s Thanksgiving Day table.”
I felt like I was going to throw up. Deep down I had known that something serious must have happened to make Eva cut her mother off. Eva wasn’t some spoiled brat or someone who just couldn’t handle having a religious zealot for a mother. She had grown accustomed to her mother’s hurtful comments and generalized distaste. It was what she was used to. But what had shattered Eva, what she couldn’t look past was that her mother had betrayed her. Eva had been sexually assaulted and who did she run to for help? Her mother. Because she had thought that despite everything, her mother would have put her own feelings about her daughter aside and believed her, her only child. Instead Marcia had dragged her in front of that priest and accused her of lying. And what did that fucking priest do? He basically proved to Eva that she couldn’t trust anyone, her mother and the church included.
“Don’t you dare look at me like that,” she seethed.
“Like what?” I hadn’t noticed that I was staring at her because I was still trying to process what she had told me. It was a damned miracle, an act of God really, that Eva had come for Thanksgiving, that she was giving any member of her mother’s new family the time of day.
“I don’t want you to feel sorry for me and I definitely don’t want your pity.” She walked farther into the field.
“I don’t pity you,” I said, trailing after her.
“No? Then why did you just look at me like I’m broken? Did your mind drift to what Kevin had said?”
The mention of his name made me see fucking red. I stormed up to her and grabbed her arm. “Don’t ever say his name again in my presence. Do you understand?” She looked down at where I was clenching her arm and I released her immediately.
“Kevin said that only women who have been abused could want what I crave, what I need so fucking much that I struggle to breathe sometimes.”
I cupped her cheek, and she trembled beneath my touch. “God, you’re not broken—you’re so fucking perfect that it’s taking the last of my reserves not to drag you into those woods over there and bury myself inside you.”
Damnit if her eyes didn’t drift over to the woods, which were only a few feet away and I groaned. I had to have her. I grabbed her hand and pulled her into the woods and walked until I felt she would be protected from prying eyes. Behind a tall oak tree I dropped to my knees.