Page 91 of Falling in Love with A Tiny Bat

I’ve noticed that sometimes God only answers prayers the moment we’ve given up all hope. The moment we step back completely is the same moment that allows Him to step in.

Either that, or I’m trying to make more of this than I should because I know—with every cell in me—my mother would havecalled the way Alexios is looking at and touching metemptation. When people around you use God as a means to justify their crimes, you start doing it, too. Swiftly, it becomes something beyond good or bad. It becomes a battle of twisting whatever’s available in a desperate effort to feelrighteous. Or, maybe, just to feelright.

“Shh…” Alexios murmurs, voice so soft and gentle I could collapse into the depths of it and never return. “You don’t need anxiety right now. Tell me what’s going on. I’m very good at listening.”

“I bet.” I wet my lips. “It’s what bats are known for.”

“I’ve found that worries are lighter when the burden of them is shared.”

“I’ve found that my thoughts and feelings don’t matter. Only facts matter.” And who even knows what those are anymore?

“Your thoughts and feelings matter. To me.” His expression blackens. “A lot.”

My eyes close, and I relinquish my controller entirely in favor of coddling my chip bag and leaning my head back against the couch cushions. “How much do you know about religion, Xios?”

“Very little.”

I hum. “When you’re raised in a Christian household, you hear a lot about this phantomstill, small voicemeant to guide you into all that is good, and pure, and right.” My jaw clenches, becauseeven nowit’s so hard to say. “Most of my life, that voice has seemed to scream. It’s not still. It’s not small. And it sounds more likemy motherthan any merciful God. I’m tired of facing down her lingering judgment. I’m tired of dissecting her from my picture of aloving God. I’m tired…” My voice breaks. “…of needing to fight circles in my head between right and wrong whenever what seems to be the kinder, more loving path contradicts the things I was taught. It’s hard to believe anything when you’ve been raised with inconsistent rules andtold constantly that your failure to memorize them and act perfectly is because you’re being tricked by the enemy. I’ve been told directly that salvation for me is impossible. I’ve been told I would have been stoned in Bible times. I’ve been beaten bloody by a drunk father while a sober mother read Proverbs 23:13 – 14 from the Bible more times than I care to remember.”

Alexios’s grip solidifies, indenting my flesh. His words strain when he asks, “What does Proverbs 23:13 – 14 say?”

My eyes open, and I stare at the ceiling. “Withhold not correction from the child: for if thou beatest him with the rod, he shall not die.”

I wince when Alexios’s knuckles crack around my flesh. His hand snaps off me. “Sorry. Why…why is that in your Bible?”

“Because. The Bible is full of historical context and literary devices that don’t come close to making sense at face-value translation. Congregations will battle over which English translation is superior as though it matters when every verse needs the clarification of the original languages and time period. Too many weaponize what they don’t understand because it justifies whatever they want to believe.” I sigh, force a deep breath into my lungs. “All this is to say that what happened to me isn’t the only thing that warped my view of relationships. The problem is, because of what happened, I’ve not spent any time deciding for myself what I believe. I don’t know how to begin or end anything with you without fearing the guilt that I’ve done something wrong, gone too far,fornicated. So. There you have it. The long story behind my anxiety.”

Without pausing for even a moment to let anything I’ve said fester, Alexios asks, “Should we get married?”

My brow furrows.

I lift my attention to him, certain what he said is not a logical response. “McScuse me?”

“If we’re married, there’s no threat of fornication, right?”

“I mean…”

“If we’re married, do you believe there’s such a thing astoo far?”

I clear my throat. “Well…I…I’m not sure? Possibly not? But there is somereallyweirdstuffout there, so maybe?”

“I suspect we’ll not be partaking of anything egregiouslyweirdfor a decent length of time.”

Heat floods my cheeks. “Fair point.”

Laying his controller on the armrest, he sprawls his fingers against his chest. “Earlier, you denoted that I was yourhusband in training. Shall I slip into a maid uniform in an effort to convince you to nix thein training?”

“L-listen here,you. If you keep bringing up the maid uniform, I’m going to think you’re into some of that weird stuff we’re not supposed to be thinking about for a decent length of time.”

“I’ve brought it up again because it was clear after the first timeyouwere into it.”

I choke on my own saliva. “Objection. Speculation.”

“Overruled.”

“We’re majestically off topic.”

Alexios lets his attention drift, then he nods. “Sustained. Shall we get married?”

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