I spent the night with her. We ate buttery popcorn, watched silly movies from our childhood, and let ourselves be a couple a lil’ girls again.
We hugged good-bye, puttin’ more into that hug than we could say. “Happy Birthday, Em,” Jamilla said. “I’ll get you a gift. I promise.”
I looked at her square. “You already have.”
On my birthday I got up early, dressed, and packed my clothes in a duffel bag. I walked around Francis’s room, touching his things. His Bibles. His books. Even the creepy books about demons and exorcism. He’d left one of his guitars, an electric one, in the closet. I touched that too, and imagined him playing his Monk Funk once he became a priest.
I love him, I thought.
Maybe I was wrong about everything. Maybe he was meant to be a Catholic priest, and I wanted him for myself, and couldn’t see what God was doing in his life.
Almost as if on cue, I heard a knock at the door. There stood Francis, hoding a big box wrapped in Happy Birthday paper and tied with a huge red bow. “For the birthday girl. Or should I say, the birthday grown woman.”
“You crazy man! You didn’t have to give me a present.”
He gave me a little shrug. “It’s not what you asked for …”
I didn’t go there with him.
I took the box out of his hands and sat on the bed to open it. He watched, grinnin’ like a fool, leaning up against the doorjamb.
He’d wrapped it so I didn’t have to bother tearing through paper and tape. I lifted the lid. Inside were a pair of Prada boots. Different from the others. Better, actually.
I cracked up. Got up from the bed to go hug him. I felt so happy and silly that I’d forgotten how combustible the two of us could be.
I wrapped my arms around him and heard him catch his breath as my face moved toward his. I didn’t see a “Don’t kiss me” expression on his face. It was more like, “Aw, man. You caught me off guard again.” We froze in place, me in his arms.
Francis rubbed his cheek against mine, “Stay, Emme.”
I squeezed him. “I can’t, Francis.”
“Please stay with me,” he whispered in my ear.
I held him for a long time. Those were the words I longed to hear. Words I’d waited for. Hoped for. I didn’t have to hide from the foster care system now. His father had come to accept me. I was even part of the team, even though I still felt useless.
I backed away from him. “Why should I stay, Francis?”
“Because I need you.”
“What about God? The priesthood? Aren’t you needed there?”
He looked away. “I don’t know.”
“You want me to stay and you don’t know what you’re going to do?”
“I’ll work through it.”
I picked up my duffel bag. Slung it over one shoulder. Picked up the box of boots and tucked them under my arm. “Walk me out.”
“X, don’t leave.”
“Francis, I know you’re conflicted. Unsure. Welcome to my life. I’m leaving here with money your father slipped me to enter a world where I don’t know what’s going to happen. I only know I need to get to my mama. I need to get her help, no matter what is ailing her. I’m sure about that much. But you’re not sure about me, Francis. So I’ma let you work through that on yo’ own.”
I walked out the bedroom with him trailing behind me. “I am sure about you, and I’d rather work it out with you around me. I asked you to stay, X. Do you know how hard that was for me to ask?”
I swung around to face him. “Yes, I do, Francis. And that’s the problem. It shouldn’t have been that hard.”
He didn’t say anything.
“On second thought, don’t walk me out.”
“I’ll take you to the bus station.”
“I’ll catch a city bus.” I took a deep breath. “I can’t do this with you, Francis. I just can’t. Okay?”
He nodded.
“ ’Bye, Francis.” I turned to walk away, but I had to say one more thing to him. From my heart. I faced him again. “Francis.”
“What is it, X?”
“The Lord bless you and keep you; the Lord show His face to you, and have mercy on you; the Lord turn His countenance to you, and give you peace. The Lord bless you.”
“The blessing of Saint Francis. You think of everything.”
“It’s a gift,” I said, and was rewarded with that single, maddening, irresistible dimple.
But I had to resist his charm. I had to go get my mama.
I walked to the door. I couldn’t look behind me. As I turned the knob, Francis grabbed my wrist. He pulled me into an embrace. Those golden-flecked eyes of his bored into mine, and he lowered his head and kissed me.
Every other kiss from men in dark corners forcing themselves on me all disappeared. All of those memories receded in the sweetness of his mouth. This was my first kiss. This was my only kiss. This was the prince awakening the princess so she could live again.
Tears streamed down my cheeks, but I kissed him until I felt his tears mingle with mine. Finally, he released me.
He choked out the words, “Happy Birthday, Exorsistah. I love you very much.”
All the words were gone from me. I couldn’t say good-bye to him again. I just wanted to go with his love all over me.
He loved me!
He really did. I could feel it.
I wiped my face, tucked the diva boots firmly under my arms, and walked out the door into my new life. All would be well.
The Exorsistah Page 21