Stepping Out in Faith - 16. Chapter 12

Lines flowed from the tip of the pencil and gradually coalesced into an image of a person lying half-propped up on a narrow bed. The angle of a bare shoulder and the curve of an exposed hip—the pencil floated up to fill in the person’s face and hovered over the page.

Marcus glanced up at the painting of La Hollandaise by Walter Richard Sickert that hung on the wall of the Met. It was a painting of a faceless woman, half-shrouded in shadows in a rumpled bed.

The image that materialized on Marcus’ sketchpad bore a close resemblance, except the shoulders were broader, the hips were narrower, and the woman’s breasts had been replaced by a man’s chest. And the face Marcus had been about to draw would have looked a whole hell of a lot like Andy.

Marcus placed his pencil gently on the bench next to him, knowing that if he wasn’t careful, he would end up breaking it. This wasn’t the first time Andy had emerged on his sketchpad in the past several weeks. He never meant to draw Andy, but Andy always seemed to appear. It was getting fucking old.

God, he wished he could have a drink, but that was no longer an option. Aside from confiscating all his alcohol, Stephen had resorted to check-in calls every couple of hours to make sure Marcus was still sober. So instead, Marcus turned to his other drug: art. Except art kept bringing him back to Andy, so maybe it wasn’t working after all.

Marcus closed his eyes and took a calming breath as he waited for the tightness in his chest to ease. God, when would it stop hurting so much?

There was a shuffling noise of someone stepping within Marcus’ earshot, but he ignored it. Sometimes people were curious about artists sketching in the museum and would wander over to take a peek. If he ignored them, they’d go away after satisfying their curiosity.

“Marcus?”

He stiffened at the sound of his name whispered in the quiet hum of his sacred place. No, this wasn’t happening; he must be hearing things. Marcus reluctantly opened his eyes and looked in the direction of the voice.

Searing pain shot through his chest, and Marcus fought to breathe. Standing in front of him was the last person he wanted to see, the same person who occupied his every waking thought and haunted his every dream. Andy, with his mop of thick brown hair and big doe eyes, stood within arm’s reach, biting on his bottom lip.

“Marcus?”

Marcus tore his eyes away and packed his things with quick, efficient movements—anything to keep from reaching out and touching the man who had devastated his heart. He hated how his hands shook and the weakness in his knees as he stood to walk away.

“Marcus, please.”

Fuck, Andy was following him down the hall. Marcus picked up his pace and ignored the desperate tone in Andy’s voice.

“Marcus!”

The touch of Andy’s hand on his arm sent a jolt as sharp as the cut of a knife straight through Marcus’ body, and he jumped back to wrench himself out of Andy’s reach.

“Don’t touch me.” Marcus bit out each word through gritted teeth. He glanced around at the other people in the gallery and tried to ignore the look of pain on Andy’s face. What did he care if Andy was hurt?

“I’m sorry.” Andy’s voice was unsteady. “I didn’t mean to intrude on your space— “

“Then what are you doing here?”

“—but I’d like to talk to you.” Andy sighed. His shoulders slumped in a way that tugged at Marcus’ heart despite his own reminders of how much Andy had pained him. Marcus looked away; he hurt too much.

“I came here to think. I didn’t think I’d run into you, but now that I have, I really need to talk to you. I’d like to apologize and explain myself.”

“Funny, seems like you’re always trying to explain yourself.” Marcus spat the words out like a bad taste in his mouth.

“Yeah, I know, I’m sorry.” Andy paused before continuing. “Look, I know you have no reason to listen to me. I won’t blame you if you don’t. But... please, I want to talk to you. If you still want to walk away afterwards, you have every right to, but... at least hear me out.”

Marcus wanted to say no and walk away. He wanted to reject Andy so he would get a taste of his own medicine. But the part of Marcus’ heart that was still very much in love with the man wouldn’t let him lash out.

Fuck. Marcus risked shooting Andy a glare and hoped the other man didn’t notice the way Marcus’ breath caught in his chest.

“Fine,” Marcus conceded. “But not here.” He turned on his heel and didn’t wait to see if Andy followed him out. There was no fucking way they were having any sort of conversation in his sacred place.

Once outside, Marcus walked toward Central Park and didn’t stop until he found a secluded bench hidden behind some trees. He continued a few steps beyond the bench to the bank of a little creek and watched the trickle of water flow over rocks.

Andy stood beside him, quiet in the stillness of their little patch of the park. Neither man said anything. Marcus had too much to say and no words to say any of it.

“I tried calling you.” Andy finally broke the silence.

“I blocked your number.” Marcus struggled to keep his voice flat.

Actually, that wasn’t exactly true. Stephen had blocked Andy’s number and erased all history of their communications. Marcus had been furious when he found out, but Stephen had held his ground, and Marcus eventually gave up; he was too tired of fighting.

“Oh... I guess I deserved that.”

“So what do you want?” Marcus asked after a beat. He heard Andy take a deep breath and then felt the heat of Andy’s gaze.

“I’m quitting.” A smile tugged at Andy’s lips.

Marcus shot Andy a glance out of the corner of his eye. “Quitting what?”

“The clergy. I’m leaving the priesthood.” Andy’s smile broadened.

Marcus faced Andy as he tried to understand. “What?”

“I’m quitting the clergy. John—my boss—finally convinced me to do it. We’re putting in the paperwork for it tomorrow.” Andy’s eyes twinkled. “And... I’m out.”

“What?”

A nervous little laugh escaped Andy, and he ducked his head. “I’m out,” Andy repeated. “At least to John. I told him everything.”

Marcus gaped at Andy’s unexpected news.

“I know this is a lot to take in. I can explain.” Andy’s excitement faltered. “If you’d like to listen.”

Marcus sighed. How could he not listen now? Fuck. Marcus took two steps back and sat down heavily on the bench. He braced his elbows on his knees and clasped his hands tightly together. His knuckles turned white from the strength of his grip. Not wanting to appear affected by Andy’s revelations, Marcus struggled to remain calm.

“Um, well, first of all, I want to apologize.” Andy sat beside him on the bench.

Marcus tried to ignore how close their knees were and the genuine regret he heard in Andy’s voice.

“I’m sorry for the way I treated you that day when you showed up at the chapel. That was extremely rude of me—and offensive. I’m sorry.”

Marcus nodded his acknowledgment; he didn’t trust his voice.

“I was a wreck that day. Couldn’t go back into the chapel to face those people, knowing how I had treated you. I...” Andy continued in a whisper: “I thought about committing suicide.”

“What?” Marcus’ head snapped up as he searched Andy for evidence of self-harm. He didn’t see any marks on Andy’s wrists or neck, but that didn’t calm his racing heart.

“Don’t worry.” Andy gave him a sad smile. “I’m fine. But that day... I didn’t think I’d be fine. I’d never thought about committing suicide before, even after all those years of denying who I was. I don’t know if you know, but according to the Catholic Church, committing suicide sends you straight to hell. So, that had never been an option for me. But that day... hell didn’t sound so bad compared to where I was.”

Marcus wanted to say something reassuring, something about its gets better, or don’t give up, or nothing is worth taking your own life. But he couldn’t sort out his jumbled thoughts and emotions before Andy spoke again.

“I was a mess when John found me. I’d reached my breaking point, and he pushed me to tell him what was wrong. It took me a while, but it all eventually came out. I told him about our first night at Ritz, the baseball game, then the youth night when I sang with Sophie.

“I told him about how gentle and kind you are, how you were patient and caring when I had given you no reason to treat me so well. I told him about how confused and scared I was and how the only time I ever feel peace is when I’m with you. And when I’m not around you, it’s like I’m walking along a cliff, terrified that one misstep will take me over the edge.”

Marcus tried to swallow around the lump forming in his throat but found that his mouth had gone dry. Every word Andy spoke was like a healing balm to Marcus’ heart, but the wound had been deep. It would take more than some kind words for it to heal completely.

“I told him how guilty I felt, how sinful I felt. And then I told him that while I felt terrible for indulging in what I had been taught were sinful acts, I actually felt worse about the way I treated you.” Andy’s voice was small and intimate in their little space. His words flowed from that place of deep thoughts that Marcus had fallen in love with.

“And he agreed. He thought it was right for me to feel worse about how I treated you than for being gay. Because the most important commandment is to love the Lord your God with all your heart, all your soul, and all your mind. And the second is to love your neighbor as yourself.” Andy smiled and looked directly into Marcus’ eyes.

There was no doubt, no fear. Andy’s nervousness was gone, and in its place was a quiet confidence that came from knowing a deep truth. The confidence called out to Marcus and tempted him to lower his guard.

“But he also said that I can’t love my neighbor as myself if I don’t first love myself. It sounds weird, I know.” Andy shrugged. “But it makes a weird kind of sense. I guess I hadn’t been loving myself, so I didn’t know how to love others.”

It made a lot of sense to Marcus—not the weird kind—the normal, logical kind.

“And then John gave me a lecture on theology that I thought I understood, but clearly I had no clue about.”

“What’s that?” Marcus’ voice was hoarse.

“That at the center of the Christian faith is the fact that we are all sinners.” Andy sounded like a child proudly explaining a new concept he had mastered. “But that we are all saved by grace through faith in Jesus Christ. Anything and everything else besides that is secondary. There’s a lot of variation in the Christian faith, Christians can believe a whole slew of things. But as long as they believe that central truth, they can believe whatever they want about all the rest of it.”

Andy paused and looked at Marcus. Their gaze locked for long moments before Marcus broke the connection and looked away. He cleared his throat to ease the growing lump.

“I miss looking at you,” Andy whispered.

Marcus had never been one to blush easily; that was Doe Eyes’ trick. But he couldn’t help the flush that spread across his cheeks at Andy’s words. That lump in his throat grew.

“It took a lot of arguing and fighting,” Andy continued, “but John eventually convinced me that I wouldn’t be committing heresy if I left the clergy. Actually—” Andy gave a dry chuckle. “It was more like he helped me see that I had been using the priesthood as some sort of escape. I was taking advantage of the vow of celibacy to avoid having to deal with who I am.

“He once told me that some people become priests to run away from something, and they end up doing more harm than good. I think I knew that I was one of those people. But, I just never wanted to admit it.”

Marcus resisted the urge to say, I told you so.

“Anyway, John assured me that if I left, it wasn’t as if I was conceding defeat or admitting that I’m not strong enough or anything like that. Resigning from the priesthood isn’t a sign of failure; that was a hard idea to accept. But to be honest, considering all the sneaking around I’d been doing, well, my vow was kind of a sham, anyways. My life would have a lot more integrity if I was a layman.

“Not everyone is called to be a priest; I’ve told people that dozens of times, I just never thought it applied to me. But John finally made me realize that if I found someone I love, well, marriage can be just as glorifying to God as being a minister of faith.”

Andy looked at him with those big doe eyes, hopeful and expectant, but Marcus didn’t know how he was supposed to respond. What was the appropriate response to a confession like this?

Marcus was rather surprised at the complete one-eighty Andy had pulled; it didn’t seem possible in the span of three short weeks. “Seems like you’ve got it all figured out.”

Andy gave a sad smile. “Not entirely. It feels like every time I figure out one issue, then two more pop up. John’s been really helpful, but I’ve had to wrestle through a lot of it on my own. Which is why I started coming to the Met. I remembered how it gave you room to think, and I hoped it would do the same for me.” Andy paused for a beat. “And it made me feel close to you.”

Tightness constricted around Marcus’ lungs, and he forced his chest to expand against it.

“I hope you don’t mind.”

Marcus shrugged noncommittally.

“I definitely don’t have it all figured out but enough to know that this is the right decision. You know that sense of peace I told you about? The peace I’m supposed to find with God?”

Marcus nodded as he focused on breathing in and out.

“I think I may have found it.” Andy’s smile grew. “I think I found it when I finally accepted who I am.”

Marcus couldn’t stop the smile that tugged at his lips, and he blinked back the tears gathering in his eyes. He knew how important that peace was to Andy, and despite the raw condition of his heart, Marcus was genuinely happy that Andy was happy.

“So, I’m not going to be a priest anymore.” Andy took a deep breath in and out, as if by doing so, he let go of the past. “No more vow of celibacy. And I’m out, well, at least to John. I don’t have many friends, and I’m not sure I’m ready to come out to my family just yet, but I don’t want to hide anymore. I found something that gives me peace—and someone who gives me peace. I want to be with him if he’ll still have me.”

Marcus swallowed thickly. He knew what Andy was implying, but was that something Marcus wanted? He wasn’t sure he was ready to dive back in where they’d left off. His heart was still in pieces and too fragile for the stresses of a full-fledged relationship with Andy.

“Marcus,” Andy said. Despite Marcus’ efforts otherwise, his heart swelled at the sound of his name on Andy’s lips. “You’re that person, and I want to be with you. Is that okay?”

All the air rushed out of Marcus’ lungs, and he felt like he had been punched in the gut. If he had heard those words a month ago, he would have danced with joy on the street. But now those words hurt like salt on his open wound.

“Fuck, Andy.” Marcus jumped from the bench, ran his hands through his hair and struggled to breathe. Joy and pain mixed together until Marcus’ head spun and he felt sick to his stomach. When he calmed down enough to look at Andy, he was slumped over, eyes downcast.

Marcus sighed, knelt in front of Andy, and grasped the other man’s hands in his own.

“Andy.” Marcus searched for the right words. “Fuck. Andy, you can’t just dump all this on me and expect me to... it’s just...” Marcus sighed. “It’s a lot.”

Andy nodded but didn’t look up from the ground.

“I love you,” Andy whispered. “If that matters.”

Marcus’ heart broke at the sweetness and hope that laced Andy’s words. He loved Andy, too; there was no denying that truth. But there was so much baggage between the two of them. If they didn’t make it... well, Marcus didn’t think he could survive another breakup with Andy.

Marcus raised a hand and ran his thumb along Andy’s cheekbone. He buried his fingers into Andy’s thick brown hair. Did he dare risk his heart again with this man?

“Andy, Doe Eyes, I—”

Marcus didn’t get a chance to finish the thought before Andy leaned forward and stole a kiss.

After the initial surprise, Marcus couldn’t help but growl. He tightened his grasp and held the other man in place as Andy’s lips caressed his own.

God, he missed this. He missed the feel of Andy’s soft lips against his own, the feel of Andy’s body in his arms, and that clean woodsy smell. He could get drunk on Andy’s kisses; they tasted better than any alcohol found on the face of the earth, Marcus was sure of it.

Unable to stop himself, Marcus took over the kiss. He swiped his tongue across Andy’s lips and demanded entry until Andy gave way with a little whimper. Marcus sucked on Andy’s tongue to re-stake his claim on the territory. Andy was his. The thought rang through Marcus’ being, a truth that couldn’t be denied despite the remnants of hurt that still lingered in Marcus’ heart.

A twig snapped off in the distance as other park-goers ventured close to their little hiding place. The sound was just loud enough to bring Marcus back to his senses. He pulled back but kept his forehead against Andy’s.

“You can’t expect us to just pick up where we left off.” Marcus’s voice was quiet, the words filled with longing and wariness.

“I know.” Andy agreed. “But I’d like to get there, eventually, if you’ll have me.”

Marcus sighed. He wanted this so much. He wanted to believe that they could put aside all their baggage and rediscover their burgeoning love for each other.

His mother’s words floated through his mind: is this something worth fighting for? Marcus had believed it was at one point. Now there was a second chance, a more promising chance. Would he forever be asking “what if” if he didn’t give it another try?

“Do you still love me?” Andy’s voice trembled, and Marcus felt that old familiar knot in the middle of his chest.

“Yes,” Marcus admitted. “I never stopped.”

Andy’s mouth tilted in a shy smile, and his eyes twinkled. “Neither did I.”