'TIL THE END OF TIME
THE LESSONS WERE ALL LEARNED
The gentle breeze that the closing of the rectory door caused wafted with her scent. He closed his eyes against the pain. He had learned his lesson . the hard way. How many times had he stood in this very room? How many times had he knelt on this very floor? How many times had he stared at the Virgin Mary? And how many times had he lit a candle? And begged, pleaded, literally died for a way not to love her. How many times before? More than he could count for eternity.
And today he knew the answer to that question . could he and would he ever let go of her, to not love her? Could he survive and live and not love her?
The lesson was learned the hard way. And now he could never ask to forget her love again.
MY SOUL WAS CHARRED
He finally opened his eyes, and looked at the sharp pain that now prickled in his hand. Blood trickled there, dripping slowly to the hardwood floor below. Drip. Drip. Drip. He was holding the cross too tight. But the biting in his flesh was a slight easement from the pain in his heart. From the burning that filled him inside. The ache that could not and would not go away. His soul was charred and left in ashes today. He could never love her more than he did last night, today. Yet he could never have her again.
WHAT THEY BURNED
Angry at himself for allowing that blood to drip, for being so engrossed in her memory, her smell, the thought of the taste and feel of her last night, that he had forgotten the cross in his hand. He cursed silently and tossed the now bloody cross to the floor. Gently he wrapped a Kleenex around his hand and stared intently at the picture of his brother and himself on the desk. His brother. The man she loved, the man she wanted to marry. His brother. The man no one wanted to hurt. The brother that had kept him from allowing himself to admit he had fallen in love with her.
Everything had been fine, or as close to a semblance of normal as life could be, as long as he ignored his feelings. As long as he wasn't alone with her. As long as he buried the unconditional love inside, the overwhelming passion, the desire to touch her soft skin, to hold her close. As long as he pretended, everything had been ok.
Until last night. Now they had burned that bridge, crossed that line. And everything was left to be sorted out, to be decided, to be denied. Sifting through the ashes of the life that both she and he had burned last night in that cave-in.
'TIL THE END OF TIME
Except, she seemed to have sifted and recovered everything she needed today. She had come by the rectory to see him. To talk, to make sure he was ok. And he wanted to laugh at how wild that seemed, she wanted to make sure he was ok! When she was the one now deciding to marry his brother. When she was the one torn between the loves of both. When she was the one whom he wanted to help . to be ok. But he had no right now.
She had just left the rectory. She had asked one question before she ran out. Now he wished he could change that answer he had given her. He had said . I cannot, ever again. And what he had wanted to say was . 'till the end of time.
She had asked . do you still love me?
SILENCE SHAMED ME SHAME
And his answer had sent her out the door, to his brother he was sure. His silence, his abstaining from her love was supposed to end this flowing passion. To end the love, the need, the desire to be with her and to protect her. Or to end her need to be around him. But instead, his answer and his silence had shamed her, and sent her running.
SHE BROUGHT WITH HER DOUBT AND BLAME
Shame because he couldn't admit to the love they had shared amidst the pain and shadows of last night. Shame because he didn't tell her today that he had meant what he had said last night. One part of his soul, the part that wasn't charred in pain, wanted to cry out that she should remember and never forget what he had said. He would love her forever, no matter what. But the other part of his soul, the charred and burned and seared part couldn't admit his love. And his secrecy, his defiance brought her doubt and blame. Doubt of her love for him. And blame that she had made a mistake last night.
She had stopped by today, he knew, to see where they stood. Somehow he knew she was looking for the final freedom to allow she to love him, to admit her love for him. Her eyes, those eyes so wide and begging for the truth had pleaded with him to tell her if he loved her. To tell her that he meant those words he spoke last night. To tell her he would leave the priesthood for her.
In fact, she had asked that very question, without receiving an answer, before she asked him if he still loved her.
'TIL THE END OF TIME
He yearned now to follow her. To beg her to come back, to listen. To tell her he would do anything for her. Die for her. Live for her. She was his life now. Somehow over the past year or so of knowing her, she had become his sanity in life. He yearned to see her during the day, to watch her smile light up her face, to touch the bronzed skin, to be near her. He would do anything for her. He would leave the priesthood for her. Anything, 'til then end of time.
Why did he tell her he could not love her? A nagging piece in the back of his mind reminded him it was the church, his obligation. He had commitments. They had been his life . before her. Now, he only knew what he felt when he was around her. Love. Unconditional love. And the heart of his soul, his very being told me she was his whole, his completion. She was his love, 'til the end of time.
NOW IT'S YOUR TURN TO CRY
She had run from the rectory, a tear in her eye. Undoubtedly, she was running to his brother, to tell him she would marry him. Because he, standing there in the rectory, had told her he could never love her again. And she had said she loved him, and wanted him to leave the priesthood to be free to love her. But if he couldn't, she would fulfill her obligation to his brother. She would become the dutiful wife to the man they both wanted to protect. That was where she had gone.
But what would have happened if he had let his heart, and not his collar speak? When she had asked him to leave the priesthood. What would have happened?
SPEND YOUR LIFE WONDERING WHY
He would not spend his life wondering why. Wondering what if? Wondering what had kept him back, besides the collar he hid behind. He would not allow that to be his only excuse for not loving her. For not trying to be with her.
YOU KNEW, YOU KNEW
And suddenly, like a lightning bolt, like the sudden desires she herself stirred within him, he knew. He knew beyond the common grasp of a concept, knew beyond reason that he had to love her. Just like in the moment last night, when he held her close, and they kissed, in that moment that they locked eyes, they're in the debris, he knew. He knew and she knew their love, their passion and understanding, their depths could no longer be denied.
And he knew now, that he would follow her out that door. And as he tossed the bloody Kleenex aside and slammed the door open, he knew he would still find her in the hall, trying to regain the strength to come face him again. To ask him one last time if he could deny loving her.
He knew. And as he dashed out the rectory door, there she stood, wiping a heart-wrenching tear from her eye.
"Gabi ." he growled out, so low and full of the desires and passions inside that it was barely audible.
"Antonioooo" she wailed, trying not to sob at the sight of him.
And in that instant they were in each other's arms, in the hall of the Catholic Church. As they held onto each other, he stroked her face, framed her delicate face with his hands. She touched his hair, his cheek, his dimple, and finally his collar.
And they stared, breathless, into each other's eyes reading into the very depths of the other's soul. And in that instant, she knew. And she ever so gently reached up and pulled his collar loose.
And gently, she laid it on the hall table.
THE LESSONS WERE ALL LEARNED
The gentle breeze that the closing of the rectory door caused wafted with her scent. He closed his eyes against the pain. He had learned his lesson . the hard way. How many times had he stood in this very room? How many times had he knelt on this very floor? How many times had he stared at the Virgin Mary? And how many times had he lit a candle? And begged, pleaded, literally died for a way not to love her. How many times before? More than he could count for eternity.
And today he knew the answer to that question . could he and would he ever let go of her, to not love her? Could he survive and live and not love her?
The lesson was learned the hard way. And now he could never ask to forget her love again.
MY SOUL WAS CHARRED
He finally opened his eyes, and looked at the sharp pain that now prickled in his hand. Blood trickled there, dripping slowly to the hardwood floor below. Drip. Drip. Drip. He was holding the cross too tight. But the biting in his flesh was a slight easement from the pain in his heart. From the burning that filled him inside. The ache that could not and would not go away. His soul was charred and left in ashes today. He could never love her more than he did last night, today. Yet he could never have her again.
WHAT THEY BURNED
Angry at himself for allowing that blood to drip, for being so engrossed in her memory, her smell, the thought of the taste and feel of her last night, that he had forgotten the cross in his hand. He cursed silently and tossed the now bloody cross to the floor. Gently he wrapped a Kleenex around his hand and stared intently at the picture of his brother and himself on the desk. His brother. The man she loved, the man she wanted to marry. His brother. The man no one wanted to hurt. The brother that had kept him from allowing himself to admit he had fallen in love with her.
Everything had been fine, or as close to a semblance of normal as life could be, as long as he ignored his feelings. As long as he wasn't alone with her. As long as he buried the unconditional love inside, the overwhelming passion, the desire to touch her soft skin, to hold her close. As long as he pretended, everything had been ok.
Until last night. Now they had burned that bridge, crossed that line. And everything was left to be sorted out, to be decided, to be denied. Sifting through the ashes of the life that both she and he had burned last night in that cave-in.
'TIL THE END OF TIME
Except, she seemed to have sifted and recovered everything she needed today. She had come by the rectory to see him. To talk, to make sure he was ok. And he wanted to laugh at how wild that seemed, she wanted to make sure he was ok! When she was the one now deciding to marry his brother. When she was the one torn between the loves of both. When she was the one whom he wanted to help . to be ok. But he had no right now.
She had just left the rectory. She had asked one question before she ran out. Now he wished he could change that answer he had given her. He had said . I cannot, ever again. And what he had wanted to say was . 'till the end of time.
She had asked . do you still love me?
SILENCE SHAMED ME SHAME
And his answer had sent her out the door, to his brother he was sure. His silence, his abstaining from her love was supposed to end this flowing passion. To end the love, the need, the desire to be with her and to protect her. Or to end her need to be around him. But instead, his answer and his silence had shamed her, and sent her running.
SHE BROUGHT WITH HER DOUBT AND BLAME
Shame because he couldn't admit to the love they had shared amidst the pain and shadows of last night. Shame because he didn't tell her today that he had meant what he had said last night. One part of his soul, the part that wasn't charred in pain, wanted to cry out that she should remember and never forget what he had said. He would love her forever, no matter what. But the other part of his soul, the charred and burned and seared part couldn't admit his love. And his secrecy, his defiance brought her doubt and blame. Doubt of her love for him. And blame that she had made a mistake last night.
She had stopped by today, he knew, to see where they stood. Somehow he knew she was looking for the final freedom to allow she to love him, to admit her love for him. Her eyes, those eyes so wide and begging for the truth had pleaded with him to tell her if he loved her. To tell her that he meant those words he spoke last night. To tell her he would leave the priesthood for her.
In fact, she had asked that very question, without receiving an answer, before she asked him if he still loved her.
'TIL THE END OF TIME
He yearned now to follow her. To beg her to come back, to listen. To tell her he would do anything for her. Die for her. Live for her. She was his life now. Somehow over the past year or so of knowing her, she had become his sanity in life. He yearned to see her during the day, to watch her smile light up her face, to touch the bronzed skin, to be near her. He would do anything for her. He would leave the priesthood for her. Anything, 'til then end of time.
Why did he tell her he could not love her? A nagging piece in the back of his mind reminded him it was the church, his obligation. He had commitments. They had been his life . before her. Now, he only knew what he felt when he was around her. Love. Unconditional love. And the heart of his soul, his very being told me she was his whole, his completion. She was his love, 'til the end of time.
NOW IT'S YOUR TURN TO CRY
She had run from the rectory, a tear in her eye. Undoubtedly, she was running to his brother, to tell him she would marry him. Because he, standing there in the rectory, had told her he could never love her again. And she had said she loved him, and wanted him to leave the priesthood to be free to love her. But if he couldn't, she would fulfill her obligation to his brother. She would become the dutiful wife to the man they both wanted to protect. That was where she had gone.
But what would have happened if he had let his heart, and not his collar speak? When she had asked him to leave the priesthood. What would have happened?
SPEND YOUR LIFE WONDERING WHY
He would not spend his life wondering why. Wondering what if? Wondering what had kept him back, besides the collar he hid behind. He would not allow that to be his only excuse for not loving her. For not trying to be with her.
YOU KNEW, YOU KNEW
And suddenly, like a lightning bolt, like the sudden desires she herself stirred within him, he knew. He knew beyond the common grasp of a concept, knew beyond reason that he had to love her. Just like in the moment last night, when he held her close, and they kissed, in that moment that they locked eyes, they're in the debris, he knew. He knew and she knew their love, their passion and understanding, their depths could no longer be denied.
And he knew now, that he would follow her out that door. And as he tossed the bloody Kleenex aside and slammed the door open, he knew he would still find her in the hall, trying to regain the strength to come face him again. To ask him one last time if he could deny loving her.
He knew. And as he dashed out the rectory door, there she stood, wiping a heart-wrenching tear from her eye.
"Gabi ." he growled out, so low and full of the desires and passions inside that it was barely audible.
"Antonioooo" she wailed, trying not to sob at the sight of him.
And in that instant they were in each other's arms, in the hall of the Catholic Church. As they held onto each other, he stroked her face, framed her delicate face with his hands. She touched his hair, his cheek, his dimple, and finally his collar.
And they stared, breathless, into each other's eyes reading into the very depths of the other's soul. And in that instant, she knew. And she ever so gently reached up and pulled his collar loose.
And gently, she laid it on the hall table.