Page 18 of The Sinner's Sanctuary

I feel more than see Christian’s head turn my way. “You don’t have to share this with me. It’s none of my business,” he says.

“I don’t mind. I don’t talk about it much. Maybe it’ll feel good.”

“Okay,” is his soft reply.

“She had a traumatic experience in her early twenties that changed her. We spent several years in therapy—separately and together—including after we were married—but ultimately, she became an entirely new woman with desires that didn’t include me. Did I mention it was complicated?”

“But you want to stay married?”

“She wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

“It’s like you said, I’m quite devoted.”And paralyzed.“But our arrangement isn’t without its perks.”

“Arrangement?”

Drily I reply, “It hardly feels like a marriage. Not the one I wanted, but it works.”

“Is there someone else?” he asks, rather boldly, I think.

“There’s alwayssomeoneelse. No one important.”

He holds up his empty glass, and I fill it for him. Before drinking any more, I load up a piece of bread with the food tray’s offerings and dig into it, just now realizing I’m starving. Christian puts a slice of cheese on a cracker and eats that, popping an olive into his mouth as a finishing touch. “I thought I asked about you,” I say, since I’ve spent the last ten minutes telling him half my secrets.

“Fine, I’ll tell you my sad story.”

“Does it have something to do with the bone you’d like to pick with God?”

“It does.”

“Then I can’t wait to hear it.”

“It has to do with that one relationship I mentioned.”

“How’d I guess,” I say, my tongue loose and my body looser. Sinking into the plush chair, I lean my head back. I close my eyes as the warm breeze ruffles my hair in that way that almost feels like human touch.

“My girlfriend Trinity—this was in high school—was raised in a hyper religious family. Evangelical Christians. Pro-life, pro-women in the kitchen barefoot and pregnant, love, honor, but especially obey. And of course, no sex before marriage because the body is sacred and meant only for your husband’s hands.”

I snort at that. I can’t help it. I also can’t remember the lasttime I had my hands on my own wife’s body in any meaningful way.

“Anyway, we were sixteen and horny, and I loved her so fucking much, but she was a mess. Emotions all over the place—didn’t know who to believe, what to trust, but shelovedJesus. So much she thought he hated her because of the way she felt about me.” He drains his glass again and pops another olive in his mouth.

Speaking around it, he goes on, “For the first year, it was all good. We were like any other couple figuring things out. Totally into each other. And you know, I guess when girls get a boyfriend, sometimes they lose some friends, and that’s what happened to her. She felt isolated, which only left me and her family.”

“That’s unfortunate,” I say. “Is that a girl thing?”

“According to my mom, yeah.”

“That sucks.”

“It was hard for her. But then, that summer, her parents’ marriage fell apart, too.”

“Wait—the perfect Christian role models?”

“This is one of my issues. It turns out it’s only the women expected to adhere to the dogma. Her dad evidently wanted to bring another woman in—to save the marriage—that’s how he pitched it to Trinity’s mom.”

“Jesus.”

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