Stepping Out in Faith Ch. 05

Well, really, what did he have to lose now? The game was up, no more pretending. It was time to own up to his actions and face the consequences whatever they may be.

Andy took a deep breath, held it in his lungs and slowly counted to five before letting it out. He was ready to talk.

*****

There was an annoying pounding far off in the distance. Too far for Marcus to figure out what it was, but just close enough to be fucking annoying. Marcus tried to bury his head into his pillow to block out the sound, but it only seemed to grow louder.

Then there was some sort of commotion and a door opening and hushed whispers before his bed dipped with the weight of someone sitting down next to him. Marcus' mind was slowly waking up and with it an intensely painful, throbbing disorientation.

"Marcus?" came a gentle voice and a warm hand on his shoulder.

Fuck. His mother.

"Marcus, sweetheart," his mother's voice had that concerned sound to it that grated on Marcus' nerves. "Sweetheart, it's two in the afternoon. Time to get up, don't you think?"

No, he didn't think. Marcus groaned and tried to pull the pillow over his head. He didn't want to get up, didn't want to talk to his mother. He just wanted to go back to sleep, back to the safe darkness of sleep.

The weight lifted from his bed and Marcus thanked whatever God was out there that his mother finally had some sense to leave him alone in his misery. Just as he was about to succumb to the sweet oblivion of sleep, his pillow was rudely wrenched out of his grasp and he was assaulted by a waterfall of icy coldness.

"What the fuck!" Marcus bolted upright, wiping the ice water from his face. He was fully awake now, heart pounding and head spinning, stomach bile threatening to find its way up his throat.

"What the fuck, mother?!"

"Excuse me, mister. You do not use that kind of language with me."

Cheryl stood above him with an empty glass in her hand. The other hand was on her hip and her lips were set in that firm line that Marcus knew not to mess with.

"Sorry," Marcus mumbled and looked forlornly at his wet bed. There was no way he could go back to sleep now. Instead, he pulled his legs up to his chest and wrapped the duvet around himself like a cocoon.

"Oh, no you don't. You smell rank. You're getting into the shower right this minute, young man."

Cheryl started tugging at the blankets, but Marcus was in no mood to let her win.

"Stephen, some help here," it wasn't a request.

Marcus glared at his best friend whom he hadn't noticed was standing at the foot of the bed. Stephen looked just about how Marcus felt, hair in disarray, bags under his eyes, his normally smooth face covered in stubble, shoulders slumped in defeat. He guessed that's what people looked like when they drank and bitched about closeted priests for days on end.

"Sorry, buddy. Your mom scares me."

Stephen at least had the decency to look apologetic as he helped Cheryl wrestle the blankets from Marcus and push him toward the bathroom.

Marcus turned the water as hot as his skin could handle and stood under the stream, letting the water wash over him. His head was fully pounding now, the nasty hangover sinking its teeth into Marcus' brain. God, he could use a drink.

As the hot water loosened his muscles, he rolled his shoulders carefully, slowly feeling life come back into his body. Knowing that his mother wasn't above barging into the bathroom to check on him, Marcus resigned himself to soaping down and going out to face whatever talking to his mother wanted to give him.

As he turned the water off, Marcus overheard bits and pieces of the conversation going on in his apartment.

"Really, Stephen," his mother sounded exasperated, but Stephen's response was muffled by the towel Marcus ran through his hair.

"An entire week, Stephen! You let him drink away an entire week!"

Marcus paused and tried to remember what day it was. It had felt like a few days since Andy drove a knife through his heart, but it couldn't have been an entire week, could it?

Marcus pulled on the clothes someone had left on the toilet seat for him and decided it was time to go out and face the music. The first thing he noticed was a glass of water and a bottle of aspirin sitting out on the table and he helped himself to a generous serving. This was going to be one hell of a hangover.

"Marcus," Cheryl began, arms crossed sternly.

"Yes, mother."

Marcus decided it was easiest to just agree to whatever his mother wanted of him; it would be the fastest way to get rid of her and go back to bed.

Cheryl huffed and paced in a circle around his apartment.

"I should go find this Andy priest and give him a piece of my mind."

Marcus exchanged looks with Stephen; they'd been commiserating about pretty much the same thing during their entire drunken episode.

"I should go tear off his testicles and shove them down his throat."

Marcus frowned and glanced back at Stephen who shared his horrified expression. His mother was fierce, but he had never heard her threaten bodily harm. Plus, the image of what she was proposing was a little too graphic and Marcus found himself reaching down to protect his own testicles.

And besides, Marcus wasn't sure how he felt about someone else threatening the man he loved. And yes, he still loved Andy. The ache in the middle of his chest made it all too apparent that days of drinking weren't enough to make him fall out of love with someone.

"First of all, ouch. Second of all, Cheryl, if you really decide to do that, please let me know. I'll bring some popcorn and enjoy the show," Stephen snarked.

Marcus glared at him and was reward was a smile and an air kiss.

"If you'll both excuse me, I'll let you two catch up while I take over the shower."

Stephen moved toward the bathroom.

"I don't know why I let myself get dragged into your drama," he mumbled to Marcus as he walked past.

Cheryl sat herself down opposite Marcus at the table and reached over to clasp Marcus' hand in her own.

"Sweetheart, I don't like seeing you like this. I know you've been through breakups before, but I've never seen it hit you this hard. I'm worried."

Marcus sighed and resisted the urge to pull his hand out from under his mother's.

"I know, mom. But I'm fine. Don't worry about me."

Cheryl didn't look like she believed him.

"Tell me what happened."

Marcus rolled his eyes, sat back and folded his arms across his chest. He didn't want to tell his mother, he didn't want to relive that moment when Andy denied everything that had happened between them. Stephen had already teased it out of Marcus during a week of drinking, but Marcus didn't have it in him to go through it again.

"Marcus?" Cheryl prompted.

"There's nothing to tell, okay?" Marcus shot back, and then winced at the throbbing in his head.

Cheryl sat back in her chair, arms crossed, mimicking Marcus' pose. Mother and son sat across the table from each other in a battle of wills until Marcus broke down.

"I can't, okay?" Marcus whispered. "I don't want to talk about it."

Cheryl's posture softened, her eyes filled with concern.

"Have you told Stephen?"

Marcus rolled his eyes, "Yes, unfortunately."

"Good, at least you've told someone. Nothing worse than keeping it bottled up inside."

Cheryl stood and started collecting empty bottles on the table and throwing smelly clothes into a corner.

"You need get this place cleaned up."

"Yes, mother," Marcus rolled his eyes again.

"And no more drinking. I've told Stephen to cut you off. Make sure you get out of this apartment today, you need to stay busy."

"Yes, mother."

Cheryl nodded, satisfied that she had contributed her part. She brushed off her hands and collected her purse.

"You're leaving already?" Marcus asked.

"Did you want me to stay?"

"Oh, um..." Marcus hesitated. He didn't really want her to stay, but knew that if he answered honestly, she would stay longer just to spite him. "I just thought you'd have more to say."

Cheryl smiled, "I have plenty to say, but none of it will be helpful now. Remember, no more drinking, clean up, and get out of the apartment."

"Yes, mother."

"Good," Cheryl came over and gave Marcus a quick kiss on the forehead before letting herself out.

Stephen came out of the shower a minute later to find Marcus curled up on the couch wrapped up in his duvet.

"Your mom left?"

"Yes, and she told me to tell you to clean up before you leave," Marcus mumbled.

Stephen rolled his eyes, "And she told me to tell you that you're cut off. No more drinking."

"Fuck."

"Yeah, no shit. Now get your lazy hung over ass off the couch and help me clean up."

"I can't believe you let me drink away an entire week," Marcus said as he reluctantly climbed off the couch.

"Ugh," Stephen sighed. "It's not like I really had a choice, did I? Come on, bitch, help me clean this shit up. I need to go get food."

Marcus glanced around at the mess that was his apartment and sighed. If only his life could get cleaned up so easily.

*****

It was insanely crowded on the streets of the East Village. Most people were half naked and covered in glitter; the rest were giggling behind their hands and snapping surreptitious photos on their phones. This was supposed to be a festive day, a day of celebration and pride; instead, Marcus was glowering behind his sunglasses, hands stuffed in his pockets following the kids from the LGBT Center around New York's gay pride parade.

At least the kids were in a good mood, all of them smiling and laughing, trying to collect as many condoms as they could from the stalls lining the street. Earlier they had all been on the Center's parade float as it wound its way through New York City. They looked like they were having the time of their lives, dancing to the music blasting from the speakers. Marcus was glad they were having fun, but he had chosen to forego the actual parade and just met them at the end of the route.

He just didn't have it in him to stand there and wave at people for hours. It had been several weeks already since Andy made it abundantly clear that what they had meant nothing to him. Three weeks since Andy tore out Marcus' heart and smashed it into pieces on the floor. Three weeks already, and he'd still much rather go home and drink himself dead, but he promised his mother he wouldn't. Plus Stephen had confiscated all his alcohol and had resorted to check in calls every 30 minutes to make sure Marcus was still sober. It was annoying as fuck.

"Hey, Marcus! Catch!" Ryan shouted right before he tossed a handful of condoms at Marcus. Marcus was too stuck in his own head to react before the packages hit him in the face and fell to the ground.

The kids were doubled over in laughter and Marcus just shook his head at them. He knew what they were trying to do. He'd been depressed for weeks and the kids kept trying unsuccessfully to cheer him up. He appreciated it, but he was pretty sure it would never work. Marcus wasn't sure if anything ever would, expect perhaps rewinding the past several months of his life.

Every time his mind wandered in that direction, his hand always reached for his phone. Marcus kept subconsciously wanting to check his phone to see if Andy had reached out to him, said he was a fool, and begged Marcus to take him back.

But there was never any messages waiting for him. Maybe Andy did reach out, maybe he didn't—Marcus would never know. That was Stephen's doing, too; he had blocked Andy's number on Marcus' phone 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.

"Hey, Marcus?" Nick fell into step next to Marcus as they followed the rest of the group.

"Yeah? What's up?"

"Um... so..." Nick stammered.

"What's wrong?" Marcus asked.

"Nothing's wrong," Nick said. "It's just that... isn't that that Andy guy?"

Nick pointed across the street, past the crowds of people.

Marcus glanced over and froze on the spot as he saw the love of his life standing there looking adorably awkward. Marcus' heart constricted as the rest of the world faded into the background and all he could see was Andy with that shy little smile and bobbing Adam's apple.

Marcus was surprised that Andy was at the parade, it seemed to be against everything Andy claimed to stand for.

"Who's he talking to?"

Marcus hadn't even noticed the other man Andy was talking to. But the second he did, he was filled with a rage more intense than he had ever felt before. Andy was talking to another man, a really hot, built man who was of the half naked and covered in glitter variety. And the half naked man was standing close enough that Marcus was sure some of that glitter was rubbing off on Andy's shirt.

"Are you okay?" Nick asked, putting his hand on Marcus' arm. "You're shaking. Sorry, I knew I shouldn't have pointed him out. I figured things went badly with you guys."

"No, don't be sorry," Marcus said through clenched teeth. "It's fine. It's over, I'm fine."

Nick looked skeptical, but didn't push the issue.

"Um, well, should we catch up with the others?"

Marcus wasn't sure he could walk at the moment, the rage inside of him just barely kept in check. He forced himself to breath, to suck air into lungs that suddenly didn't want to work anymore. He knew he should walk away, move on with his life the way that Andy had clearly moved on with his own. But he couldn't. His feet had turned into lead and he was welded to the spot.

Right when Nick was about to physically drag him away, Andy lifted his eyes across the crowd and as if they were drawn by some invisible magnet, landed on Marcus staring at him. Marcus saw the shock on Andy's face; he clearly hadn't expected to run into Marcus at the busy parade.

Ironically, that was exactly the impetus Marcus needed to walk away. He'd seen that look of shock before. He knew what came next and he couldn't handle yet another rejection. He had to get away.

Marcus let Nick lead him through the crowd until they caught up with the rest of the group. Thankfully, Nick was a smart kid and kept the others pre-occupied while Marcus stewed in his own thoughts, overwhelmed with runaway emotions. He was so consumed with processing what was going on inside his head that he didn't notice Andy approach until he touched Marcus on the arm.

The touch sent a jolt of heat through his body and Marcus reacted by jerking his arm back. A part of Marcus reveled in the look of hurt that shot across Andy's face. Serves him right.

Marcus set his jaw and folded his arms across his chest. He had nothing to say to Andy and he didn't really want to hear what Andy had to say either. And yet, something compelled him to stay.

"Marcus, I need to talk to you. I want to explain myself."

"Funny, seems like you're always trying to explain yourself. It's getting really old," Marcus spat out, scowling behind his sunglasses.

"I know, I'm sorry," Andy sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. Marcus tried to ignore how sexy it looked all tussled.

"You have no reason to listen to me. I won't blame you if you don't. But... please, I have to talk to you. If you still want to walk away afterwards, you have every right to, but... at least hear me out."

Marcus hated how his first reaction was to assure Andy that he would listen to anything Andy had to say. He hated that little part of his heart that was still soft for Andy. He wished he could just shut down his feelings and walk away unaffected. Instead, he found himself calling out to Nick and telling him to keep the group together for a while and not to wander off too far.

When he turned back to Andy, he had to consciously stamp out the warm feeling he got from Andy's shy and hesitant smile. He's supposed to be angry and offended, Marcus reminded himself; too bad his heart seemed to have a short term memory.

"I tried calling you," Andy said.

"I blocked your number."

"Oh..." Andy cast down his eyes. "I guess I deserved that."

"So what do you want?" Marcus asked, not wanting to drag things out with unnecessary small talk.

Andy took a deep breath, as if steeling himself for what came next, "Here, I need to show you something."

Marcus' scowl deepened as Andy grabbed his arm and pulled him down the street. He didn't want to notice the heat of Andy's hand. He didn't want to notice how Andy was voluntarily touching him in public. It meant nothing, Marcus told himself.

Andy led them to one of the booths lining the road and smiled at him when they stopped in front of the table.

"I want to introduce you to someone."

There was a hint of pride in Andy's voice and Marcus hated to admit that a confident Andy was extraordinarily sexy.

"Marcus, I want you to meet Father Sullivan. Father Sullivan, this is Marcus."

Marcus had been so focused on keeping himself in check that he hadn't paid attention to which booth they were standing in front of, and he hadn't paid attention to the elderly man with graying hair who was smiling broadly at him from across the table.

"Marcus," Father Sullivan held out his hand. "It's so nice to finally meet you. I've heard so much about you."

Father Sullivan's handshake was firm and warm, his voice gentle and friendly. The grandfatherly image took Marcus by surprise, as did Father Sullivan's words.

"Um..." Marcus was speechless. He wasn't often speechless, but this time he was. There was so much going on that he didn't understand, and the two smiling faces staring at him didn't help.

"Would you like a pamphlet about inter-faith and cross-cultural initiatives in the city?" Father Sullivan offered, holding out a photocopied brochure, his voice hopeful and teasing.

"Um, no," Marcus said on auto-pilot. "I mean, um... sorry, but thank you."

"That's alright," Father Sullivan smiled and glanced back at Andy who was still beaming.

Marcus tried not to let the excitement on Andy's face get to him. He'd never seen Andy so happy and carefree before. What the hell was going on?

"I'm guessing you haven't told him yet," Father Sullivan said.

"No, not yet. I was afraid he wouldn't believe me," Andy answered.

"Well, it's probably best if you explained things."

"I know, I'm always trying to explain myself," Andy said with a smile.

Marcus glanced back and forth between them, trying to figure what the hell they were talking about, and trying desperately to ignore Andy's infectious grin.

"Explain what?" Marcus finally spat out.

"I'm quitting," Andy said as his smile broadened.

"Quitting what?"

"The clergy. I'm leaving the priesthood," Andy looked like he could barely contain himself and would start jumping up and down if he hadn't been in the middle of a crowded street.

Marcus just stared dumbfounded at him, unable to understand what Andy had said.

"What?"

"I'm quitting the clergy. Father Sullivan finally convinced me to do it. We're putting in the paperwork for it tomorrow."

Andy's eyes twinkled.

"And... I'm out."

"What?" Marcus knew he sounded dumb. He felt dumb.

Andy chuckled and exchanged a look with Father Sullivan who was also grinning.

"I'm out," Andy said with a smile. "At least to Father Sullivan. I told him everything."

Marcus blinked and took a deep breath. He thought he understood what Andy was saying, but he was afraid that he was misinterpreting it. It was just so sudden, so unexpected, his brain couldn't wrap itself around the idea that Andy was out and leaving the church.

Marcus' heart, on the other hand, was swelling with the possibilities that came with Andy being out. Marcus warned himself to stay calm, and not to jump to conclusions. Because even if Andy was out, there was no indication that he wanted to be with Marcus.