Page 27 of Sinned

“Yes, I was standing in front of the church chickening out. It was so windy I decided to go into the coffee shop. Even though I didn't tell her about you, she pointed you out as you went up the steps of the church. How did she know?”

“Evelyn brings me food everyday and we talk. She tells me stories about when she was younger and I tell her about Peru.”

“You told her?” she asked, her voice just above a whisper.

“No, I didn’t have to.”

I opened the door to my apartment and as we entered, I pulled her close to me again.

“There’s so much I need to say,” I said. “So many things I should have said then, but I didn’t.”

“Like what?”

“Like I love you,” I said.

“I love you too, but I don’t understand. You seem so certain and happy to see me. I honestly wasn’t sure what to expect when I came here.”

I looked into her eyes and saw the same golden flecks I remembered from the day we met. I felt like no time had past, like the past six years didn’t exist.

We sat on the couch and I took her hand. She deserved an explanation for why I left. A better one than I was able to give her six years ago.

“If the tables were turned and I had to confess to you, I would tell you that not a day has gone by where you weren’t on my mind,” I said. “I thought the memories would fade. I thought my damnable thoughts were torture, but I was wrong. Hell has to be a better option than spending the rest of my life unable to be with you.”

“Then why didn’t you look for me?”

“I did. I even reached out to Ramon, but he didn’t know how to contact you since you left Doctors Without Borders. My leaving Peru was a mistake. I thought I would come back here and everything would fall back into place. Just like I told you to forget, I thought I could forget too. But I couldn’t.”

She nodded, but didn’t speak. I wanted her to say something to let me know how she felt or that she understood.

“I was an idiot, Ava,” I said. “An absolute idiot. And I hope that you can forgive me. I realized years ago what a mistake I made and I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to make up for that.”

I searched her eyes for an answer to her silence, but she looked down and her eyes followed the length of my stole. I had forgotten I was still dressed for confession.

“If you felt that way then why didn’t you leave? Why didn’t you try harder to find me?”

“I didn’t know how to find you.”

“But you’re still a priest.”

“Because if I couldn’t be with you, then I was going to continue my service to the Church. This isn’t about me wanting to screw around, this is about my wanting to be with you.”

“I didn’t know,” she said. “I hoped that’s how you felt, but I really wasn’t sure. I didn’t know what to expect when I came out here. I half expected you to tell me to fuck off and you still might, I don’t know.”

“Where are you living now?”

“Southern California,” she said as she looked at her watch. “I’ve been there about six years now. I stayed in Amaru for about a month after you left and after that I decided I was done. I was sick and I needed to go somewhere that everywhere I turned wouldn’t remind me of you.”

“So you chose a state three thousand miles away.”

“It made sense at the time,” she said with a shrug.

“What have you been doing out there? I’m surprised you weren’t still traveling.”

“I decided it was time to put down some roots. I went into private practice, bought a house, and I’ve been domesticated ever since.”

Even though she was smiling, I couldn’t help but think she wasn’t telling me everything. She kept looking away from me. Her mind was clearly somewhere else.

“Are you going somewhere?” I asked.