Inside Their Heads Part I (Alternative to ending of Episode 3.6)
To the reader: This may be an odd request, but please let me know if you originally wrote this story on another fanfiction site several years ago. I had it on my hard drive, hidden in some neglected folder I thought I'd written. I posted it as mine because i was convinced it indeed was, but three days later I'm beginning to doubt it because I like it more than mostof the stuff I write. It does look like my style and I know I wrote lots of BallyK fanfiction back in the day. But back then was a traumatic family time and lots of things I wrote got erased from my memory. BallyK fans tend to be more gentle than your run-of-the-mill TV fans, so I wouldn't think anyone would claim it if it weren't theirs, besides the fact that it's certainly not literature. Sorry if you really wrote this, but honestly, we didn't come up with the characters, setting, or basic plot. Anyhow, I apologize for saying this was mine if it's not.
This piece takes place after Assumpta and Leo have returned married. Peter is trying to keep Father Mac's heart attack a secret. He's living in the sacristy since a bankrupt Brian has rented out Peter's home while he was on retreat to supposedly wipe Assumpta from his mind and heart. Peter is unable to sleep, struggling with his feelings. Assumpta, out looking for Leo who has disappeared again, sees him step outside and notices he's upset, so she enters the church to offer a sympathetic ear.
"YOU DON'T THINK, DO YOU, ASSUMPTA?"
Peter raked his hands through his hair, his elbows on the lower lectern, looking away from her, his lips closing in a taut line, his nostrils flaring. Either she's pretending, he thought, or this is a one-way thing. Both options made his blood boil. He was sick of the pretense, the cover-up. Perhaps lying for Father Mac had finally been the last straw.
"Excuse me?" Assumpta frowned, her temper rising as he took a tone with her he'd never done before.
Peter spun around and pounced with his words, his neck jutting out and his veins bulging with the effort of containing his raw anger.
"You just react! You put yourself and your opinions out there and don't care what it does to anyone else, just so you get your say!" It was all he could do not to tell her why he was really upset, what he really thought of her marriage to Leo.
"So you're in favor of letting men run everything and women never having any real power, no matter how bright or clever they might be?"
My God, he thought, we're talking, yelling actually, about something which has no bearing on anything important. But I can't talk about what's important. She's married. And obviously doesn't love me anymore, even if she ever did at all. "This has nothing to do with other women. No one else in this town wants anything different. If you don't like it, perhaps you should find somewhere else. I'm sure Leo would be happy with Dublin or even Belfast."
That shut her up. Assumpta looked as if she'd become suddenly ill. "But I love BallyK…it's my home…"
"Perhaps you should start treating your home as if you were a citizen, not a child." He walked into the sacristy and closed the door.
In that small room, he had eaten, slept, prepared for Mass, and even counseled Assumpta's husband to be patient with her. That's what hurt the most, that he had been the primary means of encouragement to Leo. But if she loved him and was happy with him, he had to be happy for her. He had to pray for God to change his heart. But on retreat, he had prayed that very thing for a solid month with no relief from the constant ache for one thing, one other life, one other person.
"Assumpta…" he whispered as he heard her leave the church. He knelt there in the floor in front of his cot. "Kyrie eleison; Lord, have mercy, Christ have mercy." It was the prayer of a desperate man. He wanted Assumpta happy. But he wanted her happy with him, not Leo. And only a miracle could change present circumstances. She was bound to Leo and Peter could not consciously move to break up a marriage. Leo obviously was the man to make Assumpta happy, not him.
Somehow, though, Assumpta didn't seem any happier than usual. Actually, she'd gotten right cranky since she'd returned. Perhaps she was so used to being alone it bothered her to have someone always underfoot. No, it was more than irritation. Suddenly, experience brought back the faces and symptoms of several troubled couples from marriage counseling. Assumpta was exhibiting all the classic signs of confusion and regret. He'd seen it plenty of times after "shotgun" weddings. And Peter was darned that, despite his profession, it gave him hope.
Suddenly, the door to the sacristy flung open and slammed against the wall.
"What the hell are you doing to my wife?" It was Leo, and he was raging. "She ran out of here crying. I know something's on between you two; but I thought it was just her. Now I see you've had more to do with it than she has."
Peter put up his hands, palms out, to show he meant Leo no harm. "Leo, she's your wife. She came here on her own; I don't have a notion why. She said she was concerned for me as a friend. Now, Assumpta may be a lot of things that the church sees as questionable, but a liar isn't one of them. Don't you trust her?"
"It's you I don't trust. You know she's shaky and unsure of marriage. You know she has had a sort of crush on you, God knows why, and you're taking advantage of that because no one would suspect the priest, would they?"
Peter started at the mention of any feelings Leo had sensed between them. Even Peter couldn't put it into words, and here Assumpta's husband had. Peter was speechless, and swallowed, trying hard to form words that would never come out.
"I'm right, aren't I? You want my wife, and you are using her schoolgirl crush to get what you want. So you think you can have your church and my wife, too?"
"I have never touched your wife."
"But you've wanted to, and that's why I have to do this!" Leo hauled off and punched Peter in the gut. He doubled over, but had prepared himself and tightened his abdomen, knowing Leo was getting violent, and remembering his boxing from high school.
Peter stood up and put his hands up again. "Leo, this won't solve anything."
"But it'll make me feel a hell of a lot better," said Leo, giving Peter a swipe toward the jaw. Peter side stepped. Leo swung again. Peter caught his hand mid-swing.
"Leo," said Peter, right in Leo's face, "She hates me. Go home to her and work it out."
"That's just the problem, buddy," Leo said, with another swipe that came pretty close, "She's so confused right now thanks to you that she doesn't know who she hates and who she loves. And you enjoy that, don't you? She can't be satisfied with me until she sees what she might have with you, and you play that up. You don't say or do anything that looks like a come-on, but you're there at the bar, every day. You glance her way, then look away just as she looks at you, to entice her. You stand a little close, talk a little longer. She needs help behind the bar, you're there. There's something going on in town, you bring it to the pub. You never go a day without going in there, do you? Maybe not even a few hours."
"So why aren't you there, Leo? Maybe she's feeling a little left out. You're off covering stories on what's supposed to be your honeymoon and you're out walking the streets at night like a vampire…"
"She said that to you, eh? So now she's confessing to a priest. That is not the Assumpta I know. You are changing her, and it's not for the better. You say you're a man of God, but you're really the opposite. You were going to sneak off behind the statues this evening, weren't you? You tried to lure her into the sacristy, the one place that should be free of lust and deceit."
Peter's mouth fell open. This man was speaking from the pit of hell, and he wasn't stopping. "You were going to have her in the very place you encouraged my marriage to her. What is it about the priesthood that attracts perverts and sexual sadists?"
Peter's arm shot out of its own volition, totally apart from his brain. Instantly, Leo was on the floor. The feeling of knuckle on bone shocked Peter and he dropped to Leo's side. Leo sat halfway up on his elbows and felt his jaw with his hand. "Mother O' God. Knocked on the floor by a priest."
Peter wasn't smiling. "I'll call Michael," he said, "And get you some ice."
"Don't call the doc, I don't want our business all over town."
"He is the soul of discretion and I know my left hook. Your jaw needs professional attention before it sets like that." He went to call.
When Leo got back to Assumpta's apartment, she was lying awake in the dark. But she could tell he'd been hurt. She sat up and turned on her light.
"Leo, what in the…?"
"My jaw met Father Clifford's knuckles and they didn't get along too well…"
"He hit you? Peter?"
"Let's just say your little priest has a bit of the Sadducee in him."
Assumpta was speechless. Peter? What in the world could have brought such a peaceful man to such a violent act? She thought she knew Peter well. But this was something out of the blue. He could get angry. He could take sides. He could lose control of his emotions. He was not always rational. Somehow, that did not make him a monster. In fact, she had to hide a smile. They were fighting over her. She knew it was petty to feel flattered, but she felt it anyway.
"I'll get you some ice. Get in the bed. Did you see Michael? Did he give you any pain killers?"
"Oh, yeah, now he knows we had a fight."
"Don't worry, Leo, Michael is…"
"Yes, I know, Peter told me, 'The Soul of Discretion.' And yes, Doc gave me enough medication to drop a hippo, so I'll be hiding out in the bed tomorrow."
"What in the world did you say to him to get him so angry?"
"Oh, so now it's my fault? He's been courting you for three years in his subtle priestly perverted ways even after we're married, and it's my fault he punched me?"
Assumpta's eyes flashed. "Courting me? Leo, he's a priest. He doesn't love me; he loves the church. OK, I admit, once I thought he cared for me, but he made it very clear that even if he has the feelings of any normal man, he chooses to put them aside because he's given his whole life, every bit of it, to God."
"So I'm leftovers, is that it? You couldn't have the one you really wanted, so you settled for me?"
"Leo, I married you because I love you. But I'm a village girl and you're a city guy. That's our problem, not Peter. Peter has passed me over. I'm the one that's left over, not you. Things sometimes happen for a reason, Leo. And if I hadn't had this stupid crush on Peter, I never would have run back to you. Good things can come from confusion. Let's try to put this behind us."
"Then we need to leave here. If we want this to work, you need to meet me halfway. Let's find a village outside of Dublin. You can buy a pub and make three or four times what you're making here."
"Sell Mum and Dad's place?" Assumpta looked stricken.
"Time to move on with your life, Assumpta. They'd want that."
Assumpta frowned and turned toward the kitchen. "I suppose." She left to get an ice pack.
Outside, Peter walked the street. He saw the light in Assumpta's bedroom turn on and stay on, then a few minutes later, he could see the kitchen light reflecting on the wall back of the pub. He literally ached for her. He couldn't help the tears that fell from his eyes to his cheeks and down to moisten his sweater. He didn't even wipe them away.
She got a plastic zip-lock bag from a drawer, then got a clean towel out of another one. Once again, she wished for an ice crusher, even though it didn't happen often. Once or twice every summer she got a taste for a Margarita or a daiquiri, but no one else around here wanted that and she usually didn't either. So she got out a mallet, put some ice cubes in the towel, folded it up, and began to hammer it. It made such a noise, she put it on the floor. But that began to put dents in the linoleum. She decided she needed a stone or cement surface. She went out front and started pounding. Once done, she got up and noticed a movement down the street. Peter's door was just closing. Had he been watching her?
Was Leo right? Did he think he could be a priest and have her as his little side show? Normally, she would cheer someone thumbing their nose at the church. But with Peter, it was different. She didn't want to think him capable of that sort of deceit. It disappointed her terribly. But after all, even priests are human.
She went back inside to apply the ice to the proof of that very fact.
The next day dawned ugly and rainy. Great, thought Peter, At least it suits my mood. Only the diehards slugged through the pouring rain to Mass at eight, and for Peter, it was just as well. He dragged himself to the altar an hour beforehand to pray the prayer of consecration. Halfway though it, he broke down. Why, Father? He asked. Why did I have to fall in love? Are you testing me, as Father Mac says, or are you telling me I'm not cut out for the priesthood? I know others have struggled with this. How do I know for sure? I want to do your will, but I can't see what that is right now. I know I shouldn't ask for a sign, but I'm desperate, and you always hear the cry of the needy, no matter what that need is. And it would be a lot clearer if I knew how she felt. If she…if she…loves me, I would know you want us to be together. Show me your will, Father. I believe you can and will show me. I can't stay here around her if I am to remain a priest. But is this what my whole life will consist of, running away from women?
He got up from the railing and began pacing, praying the whole time, as if Jesus were standing right there with him. He continued, I mean, I didn't love Jenny, but she knew she wouldn't be the only one. She knew I was faltering. So do I leave the priesthood and BallyK? What would I do? Where would I go? Without Assumpta, anyplace would be…desolate. She married Leo, but she still looks at me the way she always has, with a mixture of amusement, surprise, and something else… wonder? She still tries to banter with me, and she came to the church last night completely unbidden, a married woman, because she sensed I was upset.
Peter waited for a reply in his heart, his head, or his soul, like he was used to getting, but none came, so he continued.
What other married woman has a male friend she goes to see in the middle of the night in order to find out what's bothering him? And of course I'm not going to just blurt it out, 'I'm in love with you and you married someone else.' Boy, that'd go over like a lead balloon. I thought when she got married, it was a closed door, but she came back! Why? And she tries to talk to me as if everything's friendly, but there's this undercurrent in the way she checks my reaction to everything. If there's a discussion at the bar, she doesn't speak first anymore. She asks to hear my opinion first, then if hers is different, she softens it considerably, compared to her usual cat-like sparring. Am I just imagining all this?
He rubbed his head. God, I need you to throw open a window. Both the doors are shut. I have no idea whether which one has the lion and which one has the lamb. But my choice is clear – love or duty. I'm waiting on you for an answer.
Assumpta lay awake next to Leo in the morning light, who was snoring loudly, completely unconscious thanks to the pain meds. She smiled wanly. He's so much like a tough little boy, she thought. I do love him. And he is really good in bed. Lots of practice will do that for you.
So why am I always thinking of Peter? Is it just because he's "off-limits?" I've always pushed the envelope; is this just another of my rebellions trying to rear its head? Or do I really care about him, more than as a friend? OK, let's not kid ourselves; at the very least, I have a crush on him. There, that's not so bad. A crush. Intense, but short-lived. I can wait out a crush. But if it's three years, it's not a crush; it's a torch. A torch. I am carrying a torch for Peter Clifford. There, I've admitted it. Now what?
I thought when he went on retreat and I got married, we agreed it was over. But neither time, space, nor matrimony have done anything to quell these feelings for him. It's gotten worse since we both returned. He must feel something. I can see his animosity toward Leo. But what did he expect? Did Peter expect me to leave BallyK and my parents' business when it was he who came in and changed everything? This is my hometown, not his. So why hasn't he asked for a transfer? Father Mac would be only too eager for him to go.
And there's the pattern starting to emerge. First Jenny, now me. Maybe he doesn't really care about me; he just needs to get out of the priesthood and get a girlfriend. Maybe it's what I represent that makes him stare at me when he thinks I don't realize it. I'm the only woman anywhere near his age except Niamh. So why is he angry with Leo? Why did he pounce on me over something as simple as my women's group? There's something else there that has to do with me alone, and it's not just about women in general. He could go into Cilldargen if that's all he wanted, priest or not.
So let's suppose for the sake of argument he leaves BallyK. What would that be like? No Peter to stick his head in and say hi as soon as I open, no Peter to come every afternoon and keep everyone on an even keel until closing, no Peter to hold Kieran and kiss his head and make him laugh like no one else can, no Peter to bounce ideas off when no one else will listen, no sea green eyes peering into mine, no crooked smile to put a little buzz in my day…oh, God, I've got it bad for a falling priest, and I'm married to another man.
