Writing . . .

Here are the first two chapters I have written . . .

Chapter One: Prodigal
“Which son are you?” the question running through my head as I lay in Rob’s arms hoping to soon fall asleep. A speaker at a religious conference I went to the summer before I started college first asked the question of me; he was referring to the story of the “Prodigal Son.” The answer running through my head, as I lay naked in Rob’s bed early that Sunday morning is both, I am the son who stayed, and the son who left. Through most of my actions, I am the son who stayed; I rarely miss Sunday Mass, and by almost all appearances, at least as far as people related to church are concerned, I firmly uphold the teachings of the Holy Catholic Church. However, in my mind and in my other actions, I am the son who left, who gave up on living by the Father’s standards and went off on my own merry little way.
Tonight is a prime example, I know what the Church teaches about chastity and fornication, but that did not stop me from willingly giving into my physical desires and this is how I am the son who ran away, sleeping with Rob. Rob even called me on it tonight. I mentioned needing to get up early for Mass in the morning, and he said, “Lillie, you are just a walking contradiction aren’t you? Saying you need to go to Mass and doing what we have been doing the past week.” It never dawned on me until that moment that there was a sense of wrong to what I was doing, well it did, but not with as much clarity and force as when Rob spoke these words tonight.
Rob and I do not even have a relationship besides casual conversations and casual sex. Although, I convinced myself it was all in the name of love, even though Rob insisted it was just sex and nothing more. He even told me once, “I am with you tonight that does not mean we are going to get married and have babies someday. You might come in here tomorrow and find me with someone else.” The words hurt, so I told myself they were a lie, even though deep down I know it is the truth.
The lie is easier to handle than the truth, I feel validated and worthwhile when I think his actions mean he loves me. I am just as bad as a teenage girl; well, I am not far off from that, at the age of twenty-three when it comes to naivety and believing sex to be love.
I know the reason I confuse sex with love, my freshman year of college I met Damien on-line. He was a drummer and a firefighter and he seemed genuinely interested in me, well he constantly told me he really liked me. It seemed as though Damien would be my first real boyfriend. In all of my eighteen-year-old brilliance, after I met Damien on-line, I agreed to meet him in person. He came to the house to pick me up a little past midnight, and being that I was at home for Christmas break, in the bubble of Rock Port, Texas at the time, we drove down to the beach, and of course, there was really nothing to do there, so we spent the evening making out in his car.
We continued to talk on-line and on the phone some for a couple of months and I really believed I liked him. So much so, that I invited him to come spend the day with me at school. I was really excited at the thought of seeing him again. Damien was not exceptionally good looking, actually, he was overweight, kind of rough looking, but he was definitely masculine, but something about him captivated me. My excitement turned to dread the night before his visit. I had this sense of impending doom, and I sat through my classes that morning nauseated and dreading our “date” that afternoon. When Damien arrived that afternoon, I was exhausted, I think it was mostly a defense mechanism, so we turned on the TV and lay on my bed (there are not many seating options in a dorm room) and I ended up falling asleep in his arms.
When I woke up he said, “Lillie, you are beautiful when you’re sleeping,” and he kissed me. The kiss quickly progressed to more and the next thing I knew, he was on top of me taking my clothes off. Everything inside of me was screaming for him to stop, but my mouth refused to say the words, the silent screams filled my head. I turned my head to look at the wall, and took myself to a faraway place in my mind. My roommate came back shortly after he finished, and we spent the rest of the evening in what seemed like a permanent awkward moment. When he left, he promised to come see me again, and reassured me, “I really like you, Lillie.”
We continued to talk for about another month after, and I wrote lots of poetry trying to deal with what had happened, since I was ashamed to tell anyone about what happened to me. I only saw him one more time. He came to pick me up and drive me home for spring break, but the three-hour drive just perpetuated the awkwardness for me and he insisted that what happened was my fault. He was just doing what I wanted. Once again, I let the lie become my truth, I convinced myself, even though I never wanted to see him again that he must have really liked me, or he would not have wanted to have sex with me, and that my worth came from my body, and how I could give it to a man.
Because of Damien, I lie here in Rob’s arms convinced that he loves me because he sleeps with me, not that I do not enjoy my time with Rob, he is amazing in bed, and all the time that I am not with him, I am imagining that I am. This is also why I eat it up every time he tells me, “Lillie, you are the prettiest one in the room.” It helps me sleep to think I am sleeping in the arms of someone who loves me. With that thought, I fell asleep and dreamt of marrying Rob and the beautiful children we would have.
Morning came and I awake in Rob’s arms. I smile as I remember last night. Rob wakes up and kisses me tenderly. “Good morning,” he whispers.
“Morning,” I smile at him again and kiss him back, “I think you need to take me home soon. I have to sing at Mass this morning.”
He laughs, “You still think you should go to Mass after last night? I don’t see how you can do this and still act so pious.”
His words hurt, and even though I suppose that on some level I know they are true I still protested, “Take me home now, or I’ll be late.”
“Okay,” he muttered as he crawled out of bed, his naked body caressed by the dim light filtering through the curtains. He tossed my clothes at me as he pulled on a pair of jeans. We sit silently on the short ride to my house and share a deep good-by kiss before I get out of the car. I find it easier to convince myself its love when he kisses me with this much passion and force.
* * *
After a quick shower, I get dressed and drive to church. Mass seemed endless, especially as I thought about Rob’s words echoing through my mind. Maybe I was a walking contradiction. I thought about how to deal with this, but I was not ready to reconcile these two sides of myself. Like Saint Paul said, “I see another law in my body, fighting against the law in my mind.” While deep down I knew my behavior was not right; I still could not concede my will to the Father’s. I enjoyed my time with Rob too much. So, even though morally, I knew my actions were atrocious, I kept practicing my selfish, self-destructive behavior.
One Thursday evening, in late January, I went into the neighborhood bar, O’Leary’s Pub; I frequently hung out in for karaoke night. I love to sing so typically I loved karaoke night. This one was particularly special. I sang the LeAnn Rimes version of “How do I Live?” and when I finished, this man was staring at me, smiling, and clapping, as I walked off the small stage. He stopped me, “That was incredible; you have the most beautiful voice.”
“Thank you,” I said smiling.
“Can I buy you a drink?”
“Sure, I’ll take a Bud Light,” I answered sheepishly. I always got nervous talking to new people, especially when they are as good looking as this guy. “What is your name?”
“I’m Rob,” he said as he handed me my beer.
“Lillie,” I replied, “Thank you for the beer.” During the course of our conversation I learned that Rob graduated from the same high school I did (7 years before me), played soccer in the junior world cup, graduated from the University of Notre Dame, and worked for his dad selling auto parts. This is how I met Rob, and every Thursday since he insisted that I sing for him.
One night I went into O’Leary’s on the way home from class, and Rob was talking to Delilah and told me he would talk to me in a few minutes. Delilah was the equivalent to the village idiot and the town drunk rolled into one. While Rob continued his conversation with Delilah, I sat down at a table with my mom and waited. It was not long before Delilah left and Rob winked at me and patted the seat next to him.
When I walked over, he said, “I need to ask you something.”
“Okay?” I replied, confused, this was not the way he generally began a conversation with me.
“I just want to know if there is any truth to this story. Delilah told me you fucked her ex-husband in the backyard.”
The thought disgusted me, and I relied “WHAT?!” almost shouting. I could hardly breathe I was mad.
“So, is it true?”
“No, of course not,” I almost vomited at the thought of it. Delilah’s ex-husband was old and gross.
“I didn’t think so, I just wanted to ask,” his tone gentle and comforting.
Still fuming, “that bitch, I can’t believe she said that.”
“Calm down, she’s just jealous I chose you,” he reassured me. “There isn’t enough beer in the world for me to hit that.”
I laughed, and he smiled back at me, and then kissed me gently. “Can I get you another drink?” I instantly felt better. Thankfully, he did not believe her lies, but Delilah had made a new enemy that day.
I was one of the few people who knew Delilah socially, that knew her sober. She was actually a kind, decent person when she was not drunk. I used to defend her to people when she did some of the mean, spiteful things she did because I knew deep down, she was a decent person, most of it was just the alcohol talking, but this was where I had to draw the line. I no longer defended her; in fact, I no longer cut her any slack at all.
Rob and I continued our conversation, and he took me home with him that night. We shared the best sex ever that night, and in the middle, Rob stopped, stared intensely at me, and said, “god, I love you.” Caught up in the joy of that statement and the excitement of the moment I could not respond.
That morning, I woke him up at seven o’clock. He smiled at me and said, “Next time wake me up earlier so we can have some more fun before you leave.” Next time, that thought excited me, and His idea definitely intrigued by his me. He started to get up and then stopped; he looked at me again with an intensity I had never seen before and smiled as he said, “I almost asked you to marry me last night.” I was elated at the thought, and all day I was floating on could nine, maybe the lie was actually the truth, maybe Rob really did love me.
We only spent about another week together, and then one night, when I was on my way home from class, Mom called me, told me to stop at O’Leary’s on the way home, Rob was upset, and wanted to see me. I really did not feel well that night, but since I convinced myself that Rob loved me, I could not deny his request, and the bar is on the way home. When I saw him, he was upset.
“Dad kicked me out tonight; he said he was tired of me being such a screw up.”
“Where are you gonna stay?” I asked, concerned.
“Oh, I’ll just go get a hotel room or something; I got the fifty bucks my sister owed me.”
“You are more than welcome to stay with me if you need to.” I smiled at him, “but I really am not feeling well, I need to head home.”
“What’s wrong?”
“I think I just need to get some sleep.”
“That might help,” he winked.
I laughed, “Well you are welcome to spend the night with me, but I need to get out of here.”
He looked upset, “No I’ll just get a hotel or something.”
“Well if you change your mind, you know where I live.”
“Okay.”
“Well I am gonna go now, goodnight,” we shared a quick kiss and I headed home, and went to bed.
At two thirty in the morning, my mom came in my room and woke me up, “there is someone at the door for you.”
“What?”
“Someone is at the door, get up.” I walked to the front door, and Rob was standing outside. Slightly illuminated by the dim porch light, breaking the darkness.
“Can I take you up on that offer to spend the night here?”
I smiled, “Of course, come in.”
He followed me to my room, looked at me in my tee shirt, and asked, “Do you mind if I take my shirt off?”
“No go ahead,” I said crawling back in bed. He crawled in after me, and took me in his arms and began kissing me.
“Please stop, I am really not feeling well.”
“Come on baby, I want you.”
“I’m too tired.”
“Humph,” he replied, “okay,” and he held me in his arms, and we slept.
My alarm went off at nine o’clock that morning, and I had a rehearsal for the Church dinner theater at ten. I needed to get up and get ready, an hour was more than enough time to get ready, but I wanted Rob to leave before my grandmother came to give me a ride to church.
“I need to get ready to go; I have a rehearsal at ten.”
“Oh, well we have plenty of time,” he said rolling me onto my back and running his fingers through my hair. “We only need five minutes,” then he kissed me, deeply, passionately.
“That’s romantic,” I said, rolling my eyes, and I kissed him back. “Just what every girl wants to hear, but I need to get ready. My gramma will be here soon to pick me up.”
“Suit yourself it would be fun.”
“You can stay here today if you need to.”
“No, I’ll find somewhere else to go.” He kissed me, and then he got dressed, and kissed me goodbye.
* * *
Weeks went by and I did not see Rob. I continued to go to O’Leary’s hoping beyond all hope that Rob would walk in, but he never showed up. It was almost as though he never existed, or fell off the side of the earth. I mentioned to Sally, one of the women I frequently talked to at the bar, the story Delilah told Rob, about her ex-husband and me. Sally said, “The fact that he asked you means he cares. If he didn’t really care about you, he wouldn’t have asked.”
“Really, I thought at first that he believed her.”
“No, I could tell by the way he looked at you, he really liked you.” This was a crushing blow. Not because it was overtly bad news, just that it was everything I had wanted to hear, just too late. The time I spent with Rob seemed to be more than adequate for him to completely steal my heart. I continued to go to O’Leary’s to search for him, always coming up empty.




















Chapter Two: Self-Destruction
The months that I went to O’Leary’s in search of Rob seemed to drag on and on and on; during the time I frequented O’Leary’s, even with Rob, I developed new friendships. After Rob’s disappearance, I relied on these people to help entertain me when I went out. Through these friendships, I developed a new crush and a new way to self-destruct. Thursday nights, when I would go to O’Leary’s for karaoke I would typically sit with Quinn and his wife Sheila, John, Billy and an assorted mix of random people. These people were all quite a bit older than I was, mostly in their forties, but that did not bother me. I have always felt older that I am and interacted well with older people (when I was a high school freshman, most of my friends were juniors and seniors). I always seemed to have a lot of fun with them, despite the age difference.
John and Quinn flirted with me constantly. One night, while Rob was still around, Quinn came up to me, placed his hand on my back, and whispered in my ear, “Honestly, what do you see in that horny goat boy?” I have no idea what the question actually meant, but the sentiment was clear. After Rob left, Quinn turned the flirting up a notch. Now his flirting was not only conspicuous, it was blatant.
It was not long before I fell for him. Quinn is Irish, he is tall, and has the dreamiest blue-green eyes, and his accent is absolutely irresistible. I think his accent was the basis for his appeal.
This crush was totally inappropriate; he is married with children, but I did not care, at this point, I was only concerned with one thing—Lillie getting what Lillie wants. At first the flirting, though obvious, remained harmless, but once I made up my mind that I wanted Quinn, I was damn near shameless. It was not long before my desires were fulfilled. Quinn’s wife, Sheila, went on a trip to visit family in Ireland. While she was away, Quinn and I got closer. I convinced myself it was some sort of deep attachment, so I could somewhat justify my actions.
One night, our conversation was intense, “Why do you waste your time with little boys when you can have a man Lillie?”
“What do you mean?”
“You’ve wasted all this time pining over Rob.”
“Oh,” the mention of his name saddened me deeply, my heart still longed for him, held him close.
“I don’t know what it is about you Lillie, but you’ve captivated me.”
This made me smile, “Really?”
“Of course, Lillie, you’re beautiful,” he said with certainty, “let’s get out of here.”
“Okay,” I smiled, “I’ll go wait outside.”
“Go wait in your truck; I’ll be out after I pay my tab.”
I went out to the truck to wait for him, when he came out of the bar he climbed in my truck and told me to drive around the corner. Once we were behind the building, he told me to stop, and I hardly got the truck in park before he took my face in his hands and began kissing me. Quinn was all over me. I was delighted; I got exactly what I wanted.
During these months since Rob’s disappearance, I continued to go to Mass regularly, twice each Sunday actually, but I really only went to keep up appearances, and because I liked to sing. Even though I was in the process of getting a Masters in theology, God was the furthest thing from my mind. The prodigal in me rears its head again. All of my actions, thoughts, and desires went against everything I knew.
I was in a downward spiral of sin and self-destruction masquerading as pleasure and fulfillment. An affair with a married man was just icing on the cake.
Quinn and I hooked up again about a week later, the same way. While we were in my truck making out, Quinn looked at me intensely and said, “I want to be inside you. I wish we had somewhere to go, there is not enough room in here.”
I immediately began my mental search to find a place where we could be together. The answer came the next week when my family went out of town, and I had the house to myself. This meant there was finally a place for Quinn and I to be together. When I went into O’Leary’s the next Thursday, I was excited that Quinn and I could finally be together. As I walked in, I scanned the room, and I saw Quinn sitting at the bar with an empty seat next to him. I walked over and sat down next to him, anticipated the dreadful small talk that would fill the night, but before I could tell him that I had a place for us to go, he looked at me with sadness in his eyes and said, “I can’t do this Lillie, my wife and daughters need me. You don’t need me, they do.”
His words saddened me, but I had no choice besides accepting this. He was right; I was not worth him losing his family.
I was considerable upset that night, not out of remorse for wanting to do something so morally despicable, but I was sad because I did not get my way. Do to my let down; I had a bit too much to drink that night. After Quinn left, I started talking to Matt, Sally’s boyfriend. Matt was tall and muscular, he was about two years older than I was, and very attractive. During the course of our conversation, I unconsciously began rubbing his thigh. When I realized what I was doing, I stopped; “I’m so sorry,” I said, “I didn’t realize what I was doing.”
He looked at me and smiled, “Don’t stop, it feels good.”
“I didn’t mean to do that, I don’t know where my head is tonight,” I lied. I knew exactly what I was doing now that I realized it; the hunter had found new prey, a new conquest. I needed to find fulfillment after my rejection earlier, and I was victorious at last.
Matt met me outside and kissed me. He asked, “Where can we go to be alone?”
“I’m home alone this week; we can go to my house,” I said with a smile. Victory was mine; maybe not what I had originally wanted, but mine nonetheless.
“I’ll follow you, lead the way.” He got in his car and followed me down the street to my house.
Once we were inside, our animalistic instincts took over and we pawed at each other, ripping each other’s clothes off.
I felt no remorse for sleeping with my friends boyfriend, in fact, I felt almost justified in doing so. Matt was a couple years older than me; his girlfriend, Sally, was much older, in her early forties. To me, it seemed he was rightfully mine, because I wanted him, and he was close to my age. Matt and I hooked up one other time.
While all this was going on, my escapades with Quinn and Matt, I maintained my good Catholic girl charade. In theory, I knew more than the basics for Christian morality, after all, that is what I earning a degree in, but I failed to carry out what I knew and understood in practice. It was not really a failure, as I really had no desire to uphold this morality. It was much easier and more fun to do what I wanted when I wanted.
* * *
Months went by when I was not involved with any men; however, this did not improve my faith life. In fact, I tended to blame God that I was alone. Why did God put these people in my life just to take them away, and cause me so much pain?
Then one Saturday evening, I went to O’Leary’s; it was someone’s birthday, I cannot remember whose, but I was hanging out with the normal crowd, and I noticed this man kept staring at me. He was a little chubby, had brown hair and was medium height, but still taller than me (I am five foot nine); he was not overwhelmingly attractive, but he was not ugly either; he was probably about thirty. After about an hour of watching me, (as if I could really be that interesting) he came over to me, “If I buy you a drink, can I read your shirt?”
“Sure, I’ll have a Malibu and Diet Coke,” I would have let him read my shirt anyway, but I was not going to turn down a free drink. My shirt read, “Your lips keep moving, but all I hear is blah, blah, blah”
He came back with my drink, “That’s cute. I’m Vincent.”
“Lillie, I’ve never seen you in here before.” Oh crap, why did I just say that?!
“So, you come here a lot then?” he asked with a wide grin.
“Yeah a couple times a week, I live just around the corner; it’s close.” We chatted for a while longer, and before we parted ways, he asked for my phone number, and I gave it to him.
“Thanks, I’d really like to see you again sometime,” he said with a wink.
He called me that week and invited me to this Halloween party one of his boss’s clients hosted. He worked for a company that installed home entertainment systems, sound systems in cars, and the like. The party theme was dress up as your favorite drink, and then drink it all night. I had no idea what to dress up as, so I went shopping. I found this cute lime green ruffled skirt and a matching green and black V-neck shirt, so I decided to dress up as a bottle of Midori.
Vincent came to pick me up for the party, and when I opened the door, his jaw dropped, and after a second he said, “Wow, you look amazing!”
“Thanks,” I replied nervously; I never took compliments well.
“Would you like to get some dinner before the party?”
“Sure”
“Where is there good Mexican food around here?”
“There is a place like five minutes up the highway.”
“Okay, let’s go,” he walked me to the car and opened the door for me like a gentleman.
Dinner was nice. There was little awkwardness between the two of us. The party, on the other hand, was another story. His bosses, a married couple, were there; the clients; and the clients’ friends. The only person I knew at the party was Vincent, and this was our first date. Everyone there already knew this was our first date, I guess his bosses had told everyone.
His client even said to me, “Dan and I slept together on the first date, and we ended up getting married.” I just smiled in response; I had no idea what to say. The party was awkward, and this was stressful to me, so I drank excessively in an attempt to cope with the stress and relax.
At one point in the evening, we ended up in the hot tub, and we were making out like crazy. When we left the party, we were soaking wet and Vincent said on the way home, “My house is just around the corner, do you mind if I stop and change my shirt?”
“No, it’s okay,” I replied; so we went by his place, and I was waiting for him in the living room behind the couch and when he came out, he wrapped his arms around me and began kissing me. Next thing I knew, we were on his bed.
Suddenly he stopped and said, “I can’t have sex without a condom.”
Ah, a challenge I thought. I did not answer him verbally, but I did not stop. I continued to kiss him and started taking his clothes off him, until I got what I wanted. I slept in his arms that night, and in the morning, he drove me home. It was Sunday and Halloween. When we reached my house, he asked, “What are you doing for Halloween tonight?”
“O’Leary’s is having a Halloween party; I am gonna go check that out.”
“What time do you think you’ll be there?”
“Nine or nine-thirty.”
“I’ll see you then.”
With that, we parted ways and I went inside to get ready to go to Mass. Even now, it did not dawn on me that my going to Mass after what I had done the night before was inappropriate.
That evening when I went to O’Leary’s, I was shocked at who I saw sitting next to the pool table. It was Rob! Rob was back! I was really excited, but I hid my excitement because about ten minutes after I got there Vincent showed up. I sat with Vincent and some of my normal crowd that evening, wishing I could go and talk to Rob. It really was not fair to Vincent because Rob’s presence distracted me from him, especially because Rob kept watching me across the room. They had karaoke that night and I sang a few songs. Vincent was impressed with my singing voice and showered me with compliments, but I was not satisfied with the evening until Vincent left, and Rob called me over to talk to him.
“How have you been?” Rob asked with a crooked smile.
“Well, you?”
“I’m doing okay,” he replied. “Was that your boyfriend?”
“No, I just met him last week; we’ve been on one date.”
“Oh, well, you still sing really pretty.”
“Thanks,” I said in reply. This conversation was awkward for me because I still felt attached to Rob, all of those old wounds that had been healing ripped right back open at the site of him.
“Well, I’ll let you get back to your friends. It was good to see you again,” with that, he walked away. Part of me wanted to run after him and declare my undying love to him, the rest of me wished he stayed wherever he had been the past few months.
Vincent and I went on one other date, and then, he called me one day while I was at work, and when I tried to return his call, I never got a hold of him. Vincent, like Rob, disappeared from the face of the earth. I never saw Rob again after Halloween either. I started thinking I was cursed; any man that dated me could vanish from the face of the earth.
Rob’s reappearance and subsequent disappearance, coupled with Vincent’s disappearance left me infuriated with God. How could He put these people in my life and then tear them away from me? Mostly my anger revolved around Rob coming back and vanishing again. I kept up my church charade, mostly out of spite. I wanted to make sure that God knew I was angry with Him, so I rubbed it in his face by continuing my regular Mass attendance.


Chapter Three: Relapse
The next few months drudged on and I never saw or heard from Vincent and Rob again.