Until You: Chapter 59
I stare at the large cross at the center of the church. I’ve never sat in these pews. I’ve never even entered this church, but today I felt compelled to go.
I couldn’t go back home to Aria after the filth I sat through, the things I heard. Not that this place will help. Aria told me that this is where Ida and George met. They attended church together, but that clearly couldn’t save George from his twisted mind, nor Ida from her fate.
Despite all of that, I find myself here, where it all started. I find myself staring up at the cross, part of me hoping that there’s some sort of purpose to all of this. Was everything that happened pre-destined? Was I meant to exist, or am I truly just the personification of my father’s sins?
I can only assume I was left here because my grandfather blamed the church for what happened. Because he thought they should take care of the consequences of the crimes they failed to prevent. I chuckle to myself, the sound reverberating through the empty church. It’s all absurd, really.
My eyes fall closed when I hear the clicking of heels resounding through the halls. I should have known. I should have known my girl would find me anywhere I go. I stare at the cross as she gets closer. I don’t need to turn and look to know it’s her. My heart knows.
If a God does exist, then he must have been the one to send her to me. She is all that is good in this world.
Aria slides in next to me, and I turn my head to look at her. She’s beautiful. She always is, but today her beauty stirs my very soul. Seeing her calms the viscousness that claws at me. The thoughts I can’t keep at bay are silenced when I look into her eyes.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, my voice soft.
She smiles, but I see the hurt in her eyes. I hate that I’m doing this to her. I might be hurting, but she is too, because of me. She wraps her arms around herself and leans back, her eyes turning to the cross I’d just been studying.
“My home is wherever you are, Grayson. Since you weren’t at the apartment, I came here.”
Pain, hope, and fear all melt together as I stare at her. I don’t deserve her. She might be the best thing that’s ever happened to me, but I can’t be that to her. She’s such an incredible woman, and she deserves better. She deserves better than a rapist’s son.
“You should go,” I whisper, willing myself to say the words.
Aria looks back at me and grins. “Funny how you think you can tell me what to do. I’ve never been very good at listening to instructions… you’d think you’d know that by now.”
I fall silent and look at her. She’s incredible, and I’ll ruin her. I know I will. “Aria,” I murmur. “Please leave. You… you can’t be with a man like me. You can’t. You have such a bright future ahead of you. You’re beautiful, intelligent, funny — you’re incredible. Don’t waste that on me.”
She sits in silence, as though she’s thinking through my words, and it kills me. It hurts to have her walk away, but she must. I can’t taint her. Not her.
“I think you’re misunderstanding the whole church thing,” she says, frowning. “Just because Jesus was a martyr doesn’t mean you need to be.”
I look down at my hands, feeling conflicted. “Aria, didn’t you see the video? I’m the son of a rapist. That man… that vile creature… his blood flows through my veins. You and I don’t have a future together.”
She looks into my eyes, and the certainty I see in them startles and humbles me all at once.
“The man you were last week, and the man you are today… are they two different people?”
My eyes fall closed in an effort to hide the agony I’m feeling. She doesn’t get it. Right now she might not think much of the situation, but reality will soon sink in. And when it does, she’ll no longer look at me that way.
“I’ve been here. Maybe not quite in the same way, but I know what it’s like to have your entire life fall apart around you. I did exactly what you did when I lost my parents. I shut everyone out. I lost my ability to speak, and I convinced myself no one could ever remotely like me with all my flaws, my traumas, my pain.”
Her lips tip up into a bittersweet smile, and she grabs my hand, holding it in both of hers. “I love you, Grayson. Who your parents are doesn’t affect me in the slightest. The only thing I care about is how it affects you.”
I laugh mockingly, unable to hide my disbelief. “You say that now, but you’ll change your mind, eventually.” I turn to her, agony almost crippling me. “Tell me, Aria. Would you ever have children with me, knowing what type of DNA they’d inherit?”
She tilts her head in question and looks me square in the eye. “Tell me, Grayson. Would you ever have children with me knowing they’d have a mother that continuously has nightmares? That can’t go to sleep without checking every single lock in the house? A mother that’ll suffocate them because she’d always be worried about their safety?” She looks away and shakes her head. “I don’t know if I want children, Gray. I’m not cut out to have them, and it wouldn’t be fair to them. It wouldn’t be fair to have them if I can’t raise them in a healthy way. What I do know is that if I ever want children, I’d want them with you.”
“Aria,” I say, my tone terse. “Don’t you ever say anything like that. Don’t even think it. You’d make a great mother. Any children would be lucky to have you.”
She raises her hand to my face, stroking my stubble with the back of her hand. “Why? Because my past doesn’t define my future, the way yours doesn’t either?”
She cups my cheek, and I place my hand over hers, staring into her eyes. “It’s not the same, Aria.”
She smiles at me, her eyes filled with the same sorrow I’m feeling. “It is, Gray. You just don’t see it yet. But you will. I’ll spend the rest of our lives convincing you if I must.”
I want to believe her, but all I can think about is my father’s words. The vileness I saw in his eyes last night left me wondering if that same evil has infected me, too. I worry that it’s a slow-acting poison, something I have no control over, something I might not even realize is affecting me. Not until it’s too late.
I can’t take that risk with Aria. I can’t risk hurting her.