Sean sighed. “No, but you’re clearly frustrated with yourself and projecting it onto me, which gives me the sense that Saint Jude’s intercession could be of some use to you. Are you ready for your act of contrition?”
I stated the Act of Contrition from memory, thankful that the interaction with Sean was almost over, but feeling a pang of guilt over how short I had been with him. When I was done, he proclaimed that Jesus had absolved me of my sins and closed with the sign of the cross.
“Maura?” He stopped me as I stood up to leave. “God doesn’t expect you to be perfect, especially when it comes to love...try to offer the same grace to yourself...and maybe also to certain individuals who are fairly new to the concept.” He seemed to be alluding to Thomas, but how could he know, since I hadn’t told him anything about what Thomas had said to me that morning in my apartment. I left without responding, unsure of what to make of Sean’s last-ditch effort to give me advice.
Knowing I should complete my penance before leaving the church, I walked over and knelt before the shrine of Saint Jude. I stared at the statue. Whether I liked it or not, it would forever be connected to Thomas because of the painting he had given me. I started mumbling the prayer quietly to myself.
“O most holy apostle, Saint Jude, faithful servant and friend of Jesus, the Church honors and invokes thee universally, as the patron of hopeless cases, and of things almost despaired of. Pray for me, who am so miserable. Make use, I implore thee, of that particular privilege accorded to thee, to bring visible and speedy help where help was almost despaired of. Come to mine assistance in this great need, that I may receive the consolation and succor of Heaven in all my necessities, tribulations, and sufferings, particularly…”
I paused. I did not know how to verbalize what exactly I was praying for. My mind flooded with all the memories of the past five years. I felt lonely...unlovable…and overwhelmingly flawed. Before I knew it, tears were falling down my cheeks. I didn’t try to define it with words, but just sat there, finally acknowledging how much I had been hurting ever since things had fallen apart with Sean.
Ever since he’d left me, I hadn’t really trusted in the possibility that any man could ever truly love me. Silently, I pleaded not to feel the emptiness and doubt in my heart anymore as the tears continued to flow. Once I gathered a little bit more composure I continued, “...and that I may praise God with thee and all the elect throughout eternity. I promise thee, O blessed Jude, to be ever mindful of this great favor, to always honor thee as my special and powerful patron, and to gratefully encourage devotion to thee. Amen.”
I wiped the tears off my cheeks and casually looked around to ensure there was no one I knew in the chapel before getting up. The last thing I wanted was to have to explain to someone why I’d been crying. Thankfully, I didn’t see anyone I knew, so I didn’t have to think of a lie in case I was asked.
Great, Maura, you just went to confession, and your first instinct is to lie if someone asks you why you’re crying, I reprimanded myself. Should I stay for Mass? No, I just want to go home and not think about all of this.
As I walked through the parking lot, a familiar truck caught the corner of my eye. It was an old, white, Chevy truck. It had to be Thomas’, but it didn’t make sense that Thomas would be here. He was the last person on Earth who would go to confession.
I tried to recall all the people I’d seen inside the chapel, struggling to remember if any of them looked like Thomas from behind or from a distance. The thought of running into him after refusing to answer any of his calls or texts was enough to get me into my car and out of the parking lot at top speed.
Could I really have feelings for Thomas O’Hollaren? Actual feelings that went beyond physical attraction? Was that even possible? If I did, it absolutely terrified me because I knew it would only lead to getting hurt...again. I mean, if I couldn’t make it work with guys who had the same faith as me, then it definitely wouldn’t work with someone who had absolutely no faith in anything.
Once I made it home, I sought my usual strategy for avoidance and denial; reality TV. But unfortunately, I didn’t have a DVR, which meant I had to sit through all the commercials, including the one for Saint Jude’s Children’s hospital that played six times within a thirty-minute time frame, even though I changed the channel three times. I tried to avoid it, to ignore the association, but there it was on every channel. It was like I couldn’t get away from it.
Maura, you’ve seen this commercial plenty of times before. You’re just sensitive to it now because stupid Sean had you say the prayer of Saint Jude. There is no supernatural, spiritual intervention occurring. God is way too busy with real problems to have time for your petty shit.
However, after it played for the tenth time, I decided it was weird and switched to Netflix.
I successfully distracted myself with a long awaited Breaking Bad binge, then called it a night and went to bed. Even though it was late, I still found myself tossing and turning. When I was little, my mom taught me a trick to help me when I couldn’t fall asleep: pray the rosary. The alternative was lying there and thinking about Thomas, which would ultimately lead to thinking about making out with him, which would lead to texting him, and that was not in my best interest. I pulled out my rosary from my night stand.
As I said the prayers silently in my head, my mind began to drift back to the prayer of Saint Jude. Halfway through, I stopped saying the prayers that made up the rosary, which I’m sure is something a good Catholic is not supposed to do, and started praying the prayer of Saint Jude instead. I had never in my life felt compelled to recite any specific prayer over another, but in that moment that was the only way I could describe it. After I finished it, I soon drifted peacefully off to sleep.
That was the way it went every night that week. I would begin each night feeling restless lying in bed, trying to fall asleep, and then I would say the Prayer of Saint Jude and suddenly feel relaxed enough to drift off. It wasn’t until Wednesday that I realized I had started a novena to Saint Jude. I hadn’t prayed a novena since undergrad, so I was curious to see if anything would come from it. The ability to fall asleep soundly was more than enough of a benefit for me at that point.
Maybe it was all psychosomatic, but in addition to being able to sleep better, I started to feel more at peace when it came to being myself, and feel more open to my future. I didn’t need to be with Ethan to be a good Catholic, and just because we saw the world differently, it didn’t make me a bad Catholic or unlovable. I deserved to be with someone who didn’t leave me second-guessing everything about myself. Also helping with my newfound inner peace was that Thomas had stopped calling me and Sydney had left for vacation so she wasn’t around to offer her two cents. It was a relief that I didn’t have to try and figure out what the whole thing with Thomas meant – if it meant anything at all.
In fact, I felt so grounded and peaceful that I agreed to go to nine o’clock Sunday Mass with my parents that weekend. It had crossed my mind that Thomas would potentially be there, but I figured since I had turned him down, he would have stopped attending church all together. Yeah, that was kind of egotistical…and wrong.
All that tranquility I had built up over the week escaped me when I saw Thomas walk in with his family. My heart raced and my palms started to sweat. Almost compulsively, I found myself reciting the Prayer of Saint Jude in my head, hoping it would offer the same results as before.
Why the hell am I so flustered? He hasn’t even looked at me, I mused to myself.
Because you love him.
No, I don’t, I argued. That doesn’t make sense. I need to find a nice boy who goes to church.
He’s at church right now, isn’t he?
Ugh. Shut up, brain.
It made absolutely no sense why I would still allow myself to be attracted to Thomas. Having any sort of romantic relationship with him that ended happily seemed near impossible...so w
hy even go down that road?
THOMAS
Maura was sitting next to her parents when I walked into the church. It had been two weeks since I last saw her and fucked everything up. Michael had advised me to give her some space until I knew exactly what I wanted to say. Of course, a week had passed and I still had no clue what I would say to her if I had the opportunity. Father Sean and Michael expected that I would somehow become brave enough to tell her that I loved her, but I had my doubts. All I wanted was to go back to a time when I could make her laugh.
Before mass started, I tried several times to make eye contact with her, which was difficult to do, at least nonchalantly, given that I was sitting up at the front with my family. She didn’t do me any favors by looking everywhere but in my direction. I spent the entirety of the readings and the homily trying to figure out exactly what I was going to say to Maura at the end of mass. Everything I came up with was either insufficiently superficial or terrifyingly honest.
Mass seemed to take forever. Maura didn’t go up for communion. Was that to avoid being near me? When the service finally concluded, she was already halfway to the back exit by the time I turned around. Her walk was quicker than any other time I had seen her rush out of church before. It wasn’t like I had figured out what I was going to say to her anyway.
My family lingered on the front lawn after the service. Chris and Michael were discussing something to do with Chris’ firm. Margaret was making plans with another family. I stared off into space.
Should I have chased after her? Seriously pursuing a woman was so unfamiliar to me. How much effort was I supposed to put in before taking a hint and moving on?
The parking lot gradually emptied as cars exited. Just as a black sedan cleared away, I saw her standing by her car.
“Looks like she’s got a flat,” Michael observed, calling me out of my head. “If that’s not an opportunity to start to redeem yourself, I don’t know what is.”
I didn’t argue, but he sensed my hesitation.
“Go.”
I knew from his tone that my fear of rejection would be an insufficient excuse.
She had already gotten her spare tire and car jack out. She was wearing a skirt, which I assumed had led her to delay the process, not wanting to bend over too far or kneel on the ground in a crowded parking lot.
“Need some help?” I called.
She looked up.
“I know how to change a tire,” she answered abruptly.
“I know. I taught you.”
She ignored me and tried to position herself while maintaining modesty. I walked over and held my hand out for the wrench.
“No need to get your skirt dirty...or you know, flash all the God-fearing folk.”
Maura didn’t smile like I hoped she would. Instead, she handed off the wrench, not bothering to look at me.
“I’m surprised your parents left you here stranded. It’s so unlike Laura and James to abandon their only child,” I said dryly, flipping my tie over my shoulder while I bent down to remove the lug nuts.
“I didn’t walk out with them,” she explained. “I was trying to get out of here before–”
“You had to talk to me,” I filled in.
“I have a lot of things to do today.” She brushed off my attempt to hook her. I placed the jack under the car and started to lift it.
“Well hello, Maura,” my mom approached us. “I see you’ve had a bit of bad luck this morning. I’m glad Tommy is able to help you out.”
Maura smiled politely. It wasn’t her real smile.
“You can go ahead without me. Maura can give me a ride home after I fix this at the shop,” I informed without asking Maura her thoughts on the matter.
“All right. Maura, you should join us for dinner tonight if you don’t have any plans.” Maura opened her mouth, getting ready to decline the offer.
“She says she has a lot to do today.”
“Oh, that’s too bad. But it’s no problem if you change your mind; just let Tommy know,” my mom said hopefully before walking to her car.
“Thank you,” Maura said. She waited until my mom was out of earshot. “I really don’t need you to fix it today. It can sit in my garage the rest of the day.”
“Thought you had a lot of things to do today?” I challenged.
She clenched her jaw. “At home. I have a lot of things to do at home. I can take the car in tomorrow morning.”
“Oh, you mean, first thing, when I won’t be there?” I attempted to tease, but it sounded more combative than I wanted it to. “We have a pretty packed schedule tomorrow at the shop. I’d rather just get it done now.”
“You’re assuming I’m taking it to you?”
“Well, what other shop bills your dad for all the work on your car?”
She was visibly annoyed that I knew this about her. Again, my teasing came across more like being an asshole. Fuck. I lowered the car and placed the flat and the jack in her trunk. I held out my hands for her keys. The last time I did this, she’d been a lot happier to be around me.
“I am perfectly capable of driving,” she declared, moving to the driver’s door.
“Okay, then,” I said, calmly moving to the passenger’s seat.
We drove in silence. She didn’t even have the radio on as a buffer. After fifteen minutes, I couldn’t take it anymore.
“So, what’s new? How have you been?” I asked cheerfully. Maybe if I acted like nothing was wrong, things could just go back to normal. I mean, we didn’t have to talk about what happened, right? Or the fact that for the past fourteen days, all I had been able to think about was what her hair smelled like and that I missed her smile. What the hell was happening to me?
“I’m fine.” She offered nothing more. We relapsed into silent tension. I had never been more relieved to pull up to the shop.
“Be right back.” I opened the garage and waved her over to the lift. She got out of the car and started walking away without saying anything.
“Where are you going?”
She stopped and turned around. “The waiting room. Isn’t that where I’m supposed to go?”
“Only during business hours. I mean, unless you really don’t want to stay here and keep me company...while I work on your car...on my day off.”
She crossed her arms. “You’re the one who insisted we come here now.”
“Well, how else am I supposed to spend time with you if you won’t return my calls?” I tried to sound like I was joking, but we both knew I was being honest. She looked down at her feet. Okay, so maybe I couldn’t act like nothing happened. I loosened my tie and removed it.
“I didn’t think it was a good idea for us to hang out after–”
“You rejected me,” I filled in, now unbuttoning my shirt.
“I did not reject you,” she quickly countered, looking back up at me.
“Hmm…” I pretended to think. “I said I was interested in you and you told me that you don’t date guys like me. Sounds like rejection to me.” I pulled my shirt off, still wearing an undershirt.
She looked away again.
“Don’t worry, that’s all the clothing I plan on removing.” I draped my shirt and tie on a nearby counter.
She let out a frustrated sigh, obviously not enjoying our exchange. I wasn’t either. How could someone go from being the friendliest person I’d ever met to the absolute coldest? It was bizarre; normally, if someone infuriated me this much, I would happily avoid them. But there she was, pissing me off, and all I wanted to do was kiss her and let her know how much I wanted her – to convince her how good I could be for her if she just let me.
Her cheeks were flushed from the humidity, triggering the memory of what she’d looked like when we spent the night together,
“The AC’s off since we’re usually not here at this time,” I explaine
d awkwardly, trying not to stare at her. “The office actually stays pretty cool if you want to wait in there,” I offered, thinking of a way to avoid ogling her. “This shouldn’t take too long.”
She nodded and walked toward the office without a word. I shifted my focus to something I could control: fixing the damn tire. She had driven over a nail and the tear was too deep to repair. Over the course of putting on the new tire, I concluded that even if I wasn’t sorry about what had happened, I would need to apologize to her and accept that she would never feel the same about me. Maybe someday I could work my way back to being her friend. I’d rather have that than not have her in my life at all.
MAURA
I sighed once inside Thomas’ office. I had no idea how to act around him anymore and desperately wanted things to go back to how they were before. My icy demeanor wasn’t helping matters any. At least the office was a few degrees cooler, like he had said. Maybe physically cooling down would help me be less agitated.
To distract myself, I looked over some photos pinned on the wall behind one of the desks. They were of Michael’s sons. I walked over to the other desk, presumably Thomas’. The ridiculous unicorn picture I had given him was propped up in the corner. There was a framed picture of the voc-ed group next to it. Sydney and I had given him the picture as a thank you, but I hadn’t given much thought as to whether he would display it, much like when I’d given him that silly paint-by-number picture. But there they both were.
He had two other pictures up on the wall. I recognized that they were taken on Easter. In one, he was standing with his mother, and in the other he was helping his nieces look for Easter eggs. Who would’ve guessed he’d be so sentimental?
The desk was extremely well organized, another unexpected discovery. There was a piece of paper with a handwritten list in the corner near the tacky unicorn picture. I started reading the items listed, quickly realizing that it had nothing to do with his work at the shop.
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