Page 67 of Devour

Want me to come over tonight still?

Ugh. Yes. After losing my faith in humanity, I needed some inhuman company. Rhory switched to a fiery orange just last week, which seemed almost comical on a demon but brought out the warmth in his expression. It suited him.

With a grin I typed back, There are ways to ask other than texting me.

Not when you’re like this. Too messy in there.

Wonderful. Even Rhory picked up on my current misery and jumped ship mentally. Couldn’t expect him to endure my emotional turmoil when I didn’t want to experience it, either.

You know, hating your job doesn’t mean you aren’t a good person.

I thought I was evil? I teased.

Yeah, but only to me. And a winking emoji. Cute.

After I clicked off the screen, I returned my phone to my pocket and leaned so far back in my chair I could stare at the cracked plaster ceiling. I supposed we all had our demons. Even me. Especially me. What would happen if we learned to embrace those demons instead? And what if I fell in love with mine?

* * *

RHORY

I hated when hubby slammed the door shut on me—mentally, of course. Not that I thought I needed or even deserved twenty-four-seven access, but Eli shutting me out always proved to be a sure sign of him stressing. I’d tell him not to worry over something so stupid, but I didn’t want to add insult to injury.

Hubby very clearly hated what he did for a living. He admitted this to me, verbally, on only a few occasions. More and more recently, all he thought about was how much he hated doing this for the rest of his life. Not so much the work itself, or even the conditions (ahem—not getting laid), or even the religious aspect. Hubs remained devout, and I didn’t think he’d lost his faith in his god—more like his faith in people. And what really ate away at him like acid was having to spout shit off to the kids under his wing. Especially when all he really wanted was to tell them everything would get better and there was more to life than church. Honestly, hubby probably could’ve used someone like himself at that age.

Even hours after he left work, he wasn’t doing so well. We nestled down in bed early (for either of us) and hubs picked something on the television that we mostly ignored while relaxing upright. I could really go for a snack right now, but his internal grumblings still manifested whenever I tuned in. So, I made do with contact and got myself as close as possible without getting on top of him. Hubs didn’t mind me leaning back against his chest and idly played with my hair, which was so nice. Every now and then I got kisses on the head too, also very much nice. I especially enjoyed having one of his arms around me with our fingers intertwined. And even though I should’ve realized this a lot sooner, it dawned on me how affectionate he’d become over the last year or so. Huh. Back to the subject at hand.

“What will you do when you leave your job?” I asked him.

“Don’t you mean if?” Eli mumbled.

“No. When.”

He exhaled, his chest moving my back before his face came to rest near my neck. “It’s not so simple.”

“You hate it.”

“I do,” he agreed.

“It’s killing you to do it.”

“Just a bit, yeah.”

“It’s okay to change your mind. Acknowledge it wasn’t the right fit.” I squeezed his hand tighter. “I don’t know how you do it, honestly.”

“Do what? The job?”

“No.” I sighed. “Lie, day in and day out.”

“It’s not about lying—”

I leaned my head back to stare at him and he cut his rebuttal short. “Lovely, I understand why you need to omit certain things for the sake of your job. And I even know that, more than likely, you’re not someone who’s ever going to want to share everything with everyone. You’re still literally living a lie and neither the church nor your parents are going to buy the bachelor bit forever.”

“All true,” he said, sounding even more dejected. “But the kids…”

“I know, I know,” I said before I tilted my head forward again. “Which is why I say, I don’t know how you can do it. I’m not sure what’s worse: the kids having no one they can trust, or the one person they trust having his hands tied. How will you handle having to lie to them for the sake of your job when it comes down to it?”

“Honestly, even if it meant leaving the clergy, sometimes I wish more than anything I could tell them not to believe everything they’re being told. Today, this kid’s parents wanted me to give him a stern talking to and—how? How can I tell him things I don’t even wholly believe just to scare him into behaving a certain way? How can I knowingly cause him more pain and guilt than he’s already in? That itself feels sinful.”

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