In the name of the Father

Chapter 9 - Hungry for love with no way to feed it

Chapter 9 – Hungry for love with no way to feed it

I had been in this family long enough to know what Jake wanted every day. And what he really needed from me wasn’t something I could simply prepare, cook, and plate in the mornings. He wanted more than just waffles and eggs for breakfast. He hungered for a love I couldn’t give.

I was adamant about the two of us staying friends, and have tried hard in many occasions to appease his advances. This I did at the risk of hurting him, because I didn’t want to sin in the name of his father. I made a promise to Jeanne, and I planned on keeping it as long as possible.

Jake’s unvoiced infatuation got stronger since that night of the UN Convention. Something in him clicked and refused to limit what we had with just friendship. He would show and gesture how strong his feelings were for me whenever his father wasn’t around. I would imply in speech and action what I thought to be the state of our relationship. But I guess I led him on since I never sat down to make clear to him that we could only be cordial. I was too obscure with my own sentiments that it appeared to Jake that I shared his feelings. I needed to be more direct.

Mornings he would busy himself with what he dubbed as his ‘biggest project to date’, but not before stealing glances at me in opportune moments over the breakfast kitchenette, especially during times when it was just me and him. Also, whenever he could, he would linger in my presence whether at home or outdoors. I enjoyed his company, but not so much the proximity. A part of me feared the closeness because it could breed intimacy. I felt that the more he did these little things the more I was gravitating towards him. I felt like Icarus, while Jake was the sun.

What Jake needed to understand was that all the affection in my heart I devoted to Jeanne. I committed myself to fidelity for I wanted to prove myself worthy of the love I was given. To divide loyalty was something I couldn’t live with. I prayed for resilience, and I intend to keep it.

“Jeanne,” I murmured and offered my hand to the man I loved. I breathed the same air he breathed and admired the landscape that was painted in his eyes, “I love you,” I professed, and then realized how much I wanted him to be my forever. Yet there was still a part of me that threatened to derail that eternity. A part of me that thought of Jake at night, and how cold his bed was as Jeanne and I shared warmth. Jake was growing on me. He was becoming this hunger I didn’t know how to satisfy. He was a thirst I found unquenchable. Was I becoming unfaithful?

“Jeanne, which would you rather be? The one loving, or the one being loved?” I was hungry for something I didn’t have a name for. It was something that couldn’t be plated nor served. And as I awaited his response to my question, I felt the cold light of day wrap its hand around my throat.

Jeanne shifted in his seat. He rested his left thigh into the couch, and then faced me. His eyes searched mine for answers, “I’d rather be the one loving,” was his mimicry as he brushed my cheek with the back of his hand. The contact made me realize how much love he had for me. A thought flitted my mind, ‘would he still love me if I were to give my heart to somebody else?’

“Jeanne … your son, he…” was how I started, it was enough to make him bristle uncomfortably, “He’s holding back so much. It’s killing him, Jeanne. I don’t know what else to do with him.”

He exhaled looking forlorn. I felt the kiss and weight of his expression on my shoulders. I was suppressing feelings for Jake which I knew I couldn’t but must resist. Now was the time to know if I truly deserved the love of thy father. As Jeanne leaned closer I realized that he knew it too.

I had been in this relationship long enough to know what bothered Gray immensely. What disturbed him was something personal and dispiriting. Jake wanted more than just friendship with him. My son yearned for a sleep that would never come. A dream that he needed fulfilled.

My love for Gray never wavered despite the tension I knew was building between him and my son. How was I to confront Jake? He was my son, my own blood. I couldn’t trust myself to hurt him. Also, I didn’t see any reason I should, because Gray made a promise to me, and he kept it dearly. But as the days went by I was seeing a different side of Gray I never saw before. He was letting my son’s love for him penetrate the wall we’d worked so hard to build. Was our love getting weaker as theirs got stronger? I didn’t know. All I knew was I hungered for the sweetness of a forever with Gray. Yet the question remained, could I make love last without hurting my kin?

“Jeanne … your son, he…” was how Gray broke our silence. I steeled my spine in response to how he began. Of all the things we could discuss, at a moment when I had him all to myself, it just had to be about my son. He communicated how miserable Jake was. I knew that there was no other way to have my eternity, unless Gray comes away with me to a place where it’s just the two us.

“Gray, I uh…” I had been meaning to tell him for a long time. I had my son build something for me. I had him construct a place I knew Gray was going to like. A safe haven that not even God could judge. If I was to have my forever with this man, I had to renounce my duty for the country. It had been twenty five years and six months. I knew it was time for me to live again.

“Tomorrow, let’s go to church tomorrow … then I want you to come with me to a place I’ve been meaning to show you. I think it’s time that we live a life that’s just us. Away from the history of this place, away from all the prying eyes, away from the life that had kept me from enjoying what living is about … a life away from my son,” and as I spoke those last few words I understood that I was staking my claim, making a decision I knew Gray was too afraid to make.

His gray eyes dimmed into an emotion that was hard to read. He looked as if he was contemplating a lot of things. I saw doubt in his eyes when he looked at me. It was a conflicted look that I knew too well. Fear gripped my heart at the realization that he might have feelings for Jake. There never was uncertainty in those eyes until now. I wondered if I still had his heart.

I had been in churches long enough to know that a great percentage of goers didn’t really believe in God. When I was priest I believed that people worshiped the saints because they symbolized the weight of their faiths. But as I looked around it seemed like people no longer felt the weight of worship. I wondered if there still was faith among these people who chose not to pray but to prattle. Jeanne and I stood in the back row. He wore a suit. It made him look powerful. Mine contrasted him. I wore a quaint white t-shirt and jeans. I epitomized simplicity.

“Will you hold my hand?” I asked with my heart drumming at the words. I knew that Jeanne would not acknowledge such outward display of affection, yet a part of me hoped that he would.

His face scrunched with worry, but the look faded into wonder as he relaxed and said, “I can’t.”

I sagged, feeling dejected. I leaned in to speak, “But why not?” I murmured close to his ears.

His face was vacant as his mouth spoke muffled words, “Because you’re the right hand of God.”

“I was. Past tense,” I sighed with a heavy heart.

“Give it an hour, Gray. I promise to hold more than just your left hand after this,” was Jeanne’s invitation. It made my heart swell with love and hope. I felt a weight lift from my shoulders.

“I’ll hold on to that promise, Jeanne,” I assented, my heart thrumming, beating with anticipation.

Jeanne and I exchanged juvenile intimations as the priest’s voice rose from the pulpit. The mass just started but I already was getting impatient. Jeanne pulled his sleeve and said, “Sshh, fifty-eight minutes. I’m counting down,” he hushed as both us got lost in the words of the father.

Barry drove us from church to the interstate. Jeanne said he wanted to show me something. A surprise he said. I was giddy with excitement for I knew it was going to be the start of a new beginning, “What do you have for me this time, Sir?” I teased. He didn’t like being called sir.

“Our own version of heaven, Gray … and I—”

“Jeanne—!”

My body floated as the bright light shone at the corner of my eye. The impact was sudden. All sense of what was, is, and will be snapped into a thin sharp line, then everything faded to gray.

I had been in this battle long enough to know that Gray would never leave my father’s side. I had been fighting too much and too hard to satisfy a hunger I knew would never get satisfied. I wanted more than just friendship with Gray. I wanted a life with him. But with a heavy heart I had to accept the fact that it would never happen. And as I looked at what I built for them I realized something, it really was lonely to stand outside a home I knew I’d never get to live in.

My pathetic attempts at rationalizing my feelings were broken as soon as my phone rang. Ladicroft’s name came up on the phone’s identification strip. I swiped the screen to take the call. It seemed like Gerard just finished running, judging from how he was panting rather excessively, “Hey Gerard, you getting laid?” I poked fun at it, seemingly recovering my spirits from within.

“Jake … your father, and Gray … they met an accident.”