Page 51 of Gay for Pray
Theo hunched in a pew near the front of the church. Theo with his shoulders shaking. Theo’s voice scratching the quiet, echoing church as he mutters something to himself.
That’s who.
I freeze in the entrance, torn between anger and grief and pain and longing, not sure which to pick until a choked sob echoes through the building. It makes no sense, but that doesn’t matter because it’s not my brain that responds to the noise.
It’s my heart.
My feet start moving. Theo sits up straighter, wiping at his face. He whips around on the pew, his eyes going wide when he finds me striding toward him. The candlelight brings out all that gold that only emerges in the dark, and there’s no hope of me holding onto my anger by the time I slide onto the bench beside him.
Red rims his eyes. His cheeks are ruddy and damp, even his scraggle of pale beard insufficient to roughen his features when they’re all so soft and open from crying. I’ve never seen him this way, and it makes me itch with the desire to bundle him in my arms, but I hold myself back, not letting any part of us touch.
“What are you doing here?” he says, voice ragged from tears and prayers, if I had to guess.
“I don’t know,” I say truthfully.
“No one comes here.”
“No one but a nerd like you.”
He smiles, a tiny, flickering gesture like the dancing shadow cast by a votive candle.
“I needed a walk,” I say. “Went out to get some air. Ended up here somehow.”
He scoffs, but at himself more than me. “I was doing the same, actually.”
His gaze flicks to the crucifix hanging over us, as though to suggest we were drawn here by some force larger than ourselves. I won’t agree, but I let him have his faith. I certainly don’t have a better explanation.
“I…” He looks down at the hands folded in his lap, then back up at me. “I’m sorry, Jude.”
The words punch through my chest. “I know,” I say. Because it’s true. Because I knew it from the start. I knew he was sorry about this, sorry about how this would inevitably collapse on us, sorry for the hurt coming our way. “I’m sorry too.”
“You have nothing to apologize for.”
“No, I do. I was angry. Really angry. But only because that was better than feeling hurt.”
He shrinks in on himself, as though my words are hail and he’s seeking cover.
“You’re right to be angry,” he says. “I screwed this up. I just…” His gaze goes back to his hands, and his voice softens so much Ihave to lean closer to hear him. “I’m not supposed to love you.” He meets my eyes, and suddenly our faces are so, so close. “But I do. No matter how hard I try not to, I keep loving you anyway.”
My breath vanishes. My heart stops. Time freezes around me, every candle in the church refusing to flicker as the whole world crystallizes around Theo’s words.
Then I cradle his head in my hands and kiss him for all I’m worth.
His fingers tangle in my shirt, clinging on as I kiss the breath out of both of us. It’s a light, tenuous hold, but it’s there and it’s real and I never want him to let go. Because the second he said those words, there was only one possible response.
“I love you too,” I say when I pull away.
His smile flickers in and out of existence. “What a place to say something like that.”
“Hey, if God was so against it, wouldn’t he smite us or something? We’re right here.”
Theo’s mouth twists like he’s torn between disagreeing and laughing.
“Maybe God left it up to us to decide,” I say. “Maybe that’s the point. Free will and all that. Maybe we’re the ones who get to choose.”
“Then I choose you,” Theo says.
From this close, I can’t miss the fear that mingles with the joy of that statement.
