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  Without further adieu, here's this week's chapter.

  Kyle

  I waited in the lobby of the sterile, all-white doctors’ office while Rose had her consultation. I was set to drive her back to work once her consultation was finished, and I passed the time reading the sports section of the Globe. Nathan and I had already petitioned in pursuit of my wrongful termination case, and we were due in court tomorrow morning. The request for information would go through soon thereafter. Besides that, I’d already applied for my business owner’s permit. Once I could raise the money, I’d start looking for an open lot to build on. Rachel and Lisa had already recommended a construction team to us, the same one that had built their catering business for them. Rose was willing to put down some money as the initial investor, but I still had to raise a good amount of capital myself.

  Still, progress was progress, and we were making progress.

  My fiance (God, it felt good to finally call her that) stepped back into the waiting room looking like she’d just received the best news of her life. She pranced over to me (getting better and better at moving in heels- good for her) and fisted my shirt and pnted a kiss on my mouth. I ran my hand through her hair as I hopped to my feet, putting an arm around her and holding her close as we walked over to the elevator together.

  “So, I’m on the waitlist,” Rose said as the elevator brought us down to the ground floor.

  “That’s good!” I replied.

  “But I won’t be able to get the operation for six months,” she said.

  “Less good,” I admitted.

  “I know,” she said. “If I lose my job before then, I’m looking at either paying out of pocket or having to go somewhere else entirely.”

  I kissed her temple. “We’ll figure it out.”

  She gave that wistful little sigh of hers. “I know we will. I just… I really want to have a vagina before our wedding. And I want to actually be able to use it on our wedding night, so I’ll need to be fully healed by then.”

  “Okay,” I nodded. “I don’t see why that’s a problem. It’s not like we’ve set a date yet.”

  “I know, I just… It feels like the st obstacle. I know it’s not, I know we have other problems to deal with, but it just… God, I want it to happen already. And I wanna be married to you already!” She gave a pyful stomp of her foot for emphasis. Fuck, it was cute.

  But still, I understood where she was coming from. The elevator opened for us, and we stepped out in the parking garage and headed for my truck. “Okay, well, first of all, even if you can’t get it done before the wedding, I’ll still marry you. And I know, it’s less about me here than it is about you wanting it, but if it helps at all, please know that. Second of all: do you have a date set for the operation?”

  “December 10th,” she nodded as I opened the car door for her and she climbed it.

  “Just in time for Christmas,” I chuckled as I got in on the drivers’ side.

  “A pussy for Christmas. Way better than my two front teeth,” she said.

  I twisted my key in the ignition and said, “Alright, then let’s pn around that for the time being. You’re gonna be id out convalescing for what, two months?”

  “At least,” she said while I backed up the truck and aimed us towards the garage exit. “If not more. And it’ll be an additional month before I can safely have vaginal sex, possibly longer.”

  “Okay, so let’s py it safe, then,” I said as we exited the garage and made it onto the congested, chaotic, violently insane world of Boston’s streets at midday. “How does a spring wedding sound?”

  “I think it sounds great,” she smiled as I wove around a punch-up between two people whose cars were wrapped around each other. “Maybe… Maybe we could shoot for having it on our anniversary?”

  “I like that,” I nodded. “April 2nd it is then.”

  “Thank God our anniversary isn’t a day earlier. I don’t think I could live with that,” she ughed.

  “Fuck, me either.”

  “We’re gonna make this happen,” Rose said, then began bouncing up and down in her seat. “We’re gonna make this happen! Holy fucking shit!”

  “Fuck yeah,” I said, smiling at my adorable gremlin of a future wife.

  As we pulled up to her office building, I turned to her and said, “Do you think Mallory and Sarah are gonna be there today? You know, plotting maliciously and the like?”

  “I don’t think so,” Rose shook her head. “Mallory is a very good corporate raider, but she can only move so quickly without inviting an investigation. I probably have at least a few weeks to settle into my new job before the next boardroom battle starts.”

  “Good,” I said, kissing her once more. “Want me to pick you up tonight?”

  “Yes please,” she said. “Have a good day, okay love?”

  “I’ll do my best,” I replied as she hopped out of the car.

  I stared at her ass until she was inside the building. And also until some dickhead in an SUV started screaming at me for parking where I was (completely legally, mind you).

  I drove away, barely managing to avoid flipping the guy off as I left (which would only result in a fistfight, so probably not worth it. Probably) and went on the prowl.

  My woman wanted to find a new church. And she wanted one for our wedding. So, given I had nothing else to do today, I’d gone on a research deep-dive and compiled a list of queer-friendly churches in our city.

  The first one, St. Matthew’s Church, sat atop a seaside cliff in the North End. With a beautiful view of the expansive ocean, the small, white-painted structure looked like something out of an old children’s novel. Rose would love it, I’m sure.

  I checked my clock: ten minutes early. I’d called ahead to meet with their rector, but he should have been ready for me by now. I parked at the top of the hill and made my way out. God, between the warm Spring air and the sun shining off the water and the seabreeze giving it all a fresh scent, I couldn’t help but think this pce looked perfect…

  Right up until I walked inside and saw the parish priest, a barrel-chested white guy in his sixties, snorting a line of coke off the altar.

  I stood in the doorway staring at him as he finished, and as his eyes dited from the drugs, he registered I was there.

  “Uh…,” he said.

  “Father Hammond, I assume?” I said with raised eyebrows.

  “This isn’t what it looks like,” he said.

  “Oh really? Then what is it?”

  “It’s-”

  Before he could finish, a nun in full habit walked in from a side-door and excimed, in a throaty, gravely Boston accent of the kind you only get from literally never leaving this city once in your entire life,“Hey, Padre! I got the acid and the ecstacy and the fentanyl you asked for! Let’s party! There’s still coke leftover to do some free-basing, right?”

  “Yeah, I think we’re done here,” I said.

  “No, wait!” Father Hammond called after me.

  “Have a nice trip!” I said as I turned around and let the door close behind me.

  “What’s his damage? Did you forget to invite him to get lit and go skinny-dipping with us?” I heard the nun say as I left.

  “For fuck’s sake, Karen!” Father Hammond whined.

  I walked back to my car, took out my pad, and crossed the church off my list.

  Onwards to the next one.

  ***

  Holy Sacrament Church was nestled in a quiet neighborhood in the West End. Made of simple gray stone and standing as tall as most of the surrounding buildings, it was perhaps a bit out of the way, but seemed quite ornate and lovely. As I parked and drank in the sight of the outside view, I nodded in appreciation. My family had never really been the church-going type (nothing against it, it just wasn’t something we did), but still, I knew it was important to Rose and always had been. And I could appreciate some quality architecture as much as the next guy.

  I was expecting to meet Father Xavier when I stepped inside. And I did. But he was not the first one I met. That dubious honor goes to the emu that was standing on the other side of the front entrance.

  “Um… What?” I said as the flightless bird blinked at me, craning its long neck upwards as if in disbelief of how rge I was (not that I wasn’t used to that by now, but still).

  “Close the door! Close the door! Close the dooooooooorrrrr!” a short, copper-skinned bald man in his fifties, cd in green holy vestments, screamed as he ran towards me… Trailed by an entire flock of squawking emu.

  I smmed the door shut as I was suddenly surrounded by a small herd of what my brother Luke had once referred to as ‘raptor puppies.’ They smelled absolutely terrible, but maybe that was just whatever bullshit was going on in here.

  “You must be Kyle Duggan,” the priest, presumably Father Xavier, said while ughing nervously and wringing his hands together.

  “I am.”

  “You’re… You’re probably wondering why we have all these emu here.”

  “I am.”

  “And you’re no doubt willing to listen to the very long but completely reasonable and in no way incriminating story about why we have all these emu here.”

  “I am not,” I said before pivoting and leaving, shoving a raptor puppy out of my way as I squeaked out the front door.

  “No, come back!” Father Xavier cried. “Don’t leave me here with these beeeeaaaaassssttttssss!”

  I got into my car, crossed the church off my list, and then called animal control as I drove off to the next stop.

  ***

  St. Mary’s wasn’t much more successful than the previous two: the guy who’d set himself on fire during Rose and I’s bar-crawl date back in January turned out to be the parish priest, and I walked in on him once again on fire while his buddy from before dumped Holy Water onto him to put it out.

  Once it was done, I left without saying anything.

  ***

  John Calvin Presbyterian Church wasn’t a winner either. I walked in on them filming a porno involving naughty nuns and a horny devil getting frisky on the pulpit. They slipped me twenty dolrs from the collection box to get me not to tell anyone about it, and as I left, I gave it to a homeless guy and told him to spend it on food. He probably wouldn’t, but it was worth a shot.

  And people wondered why church attendance rates were down.

  ***

  Holy Absolution Episcopal Church was my final stop of the day, a small but pristine chapel made of pure marble located in Weymouth. It was definitely out of the way, but after the day I’d had I was rapidly losing my ability to care. I parked in a front lot with only one other car in it and grumpily marched over to the front entrance with my hands jammed in my pockets.

  I opened the front door and expected to find the worst waiting for me on the other side.

  In a way, I was right.

  Sarah was there, talking to the rector, Father Anthony. They sat together in a pew, talking back and forth. Sarah looked like she’d been sobbing her eyes out they were so red, mascara leaving a runny trail down her face.

  I forgot to shut the door gently, and it closed with a loud thud behind me. Both Father Anthony and Sarah turned their heads towards me immediately.

  I’d seen a lot of expressions on Sarah O’Neil-Vasquez in the time she and I had shared. I’d seen her screaming with pleasure, I’d seen her twisted with rage, I’d seen her ughing with condescension, I’d seen her squinting with confusion over what I said or what I did (that one I saw a lot, actually), and I’d seen her pleading and begging on her knees while ravenous with lust. Just yesterday, I’d seen her look genuinely afraid during her confrontation with us at the coffee shop, with some part of her clearly scared shitless of mommy dearest.

  I’d never seen this look on her face.

  I might not have had the same religious upbringing as my fiance did, but I could still recognize guilt and shame when I saw them pstered all over someone.

  “You must be Mr. Duggan,” Father Anthony, a short, slender man in his forties, said. He had neatly-parted bck hair and dark, weathered skin, and his robes were purple and gold. “If you could just give us a moment-”

  “It’s fine, I was just leaving,” Sarah said, rapidly rising to her feet.

  Wait, was she wearing-

  “Please, Sarah,” Father Anthony said, “We were in the middle of-”

  “I really need to go,” Sarah said as she walked up the center aisle with crestfallen eyes.

  I caught her by the arm before she could walk by me.

  “Please let go of me,” she whispered, still not meeting my eyes.

  “Don’t think I’ve ever heard you say please before,” I noted, looking her up and down. “Don’t think I’ve seen you in a dress before, either.”

  “I… It was undry day and this was all I had,” Sarah said, clearly trying to ftten her voice without a single ounce of success.

  “Interesting,” I said. And it was. Mostly because it was exactly the same as the one Rose had been wearing on that day when we’d had our first confrontation with Sarah. Light blue, with white flower embroidery and a skirt that extended just over her knees. It was bigger, obviously- Sarah had a good six and a half inches on Rose- but still. It was a perfect match, otherwise.

  “What are you even doing here, Kyle?” she said, her voice finally taking on its typical icy, monotone register.

  “Could ask you the same question,” I said. “Let’s talk outside.”

  “I-”

  I pulled her by the arm out of the church.

  \ “Mr. Duggan,” Father Anthony said.

  “This’ll only take a few minutes,” I called back as I pushed Sarah out the door and joined her in the harsh light of day. I leaned back on the door to the church and crossed my arms as I took in the sight of her.

  “Stop staring at my legs,” Sarah snapped. Well, she tried to snap, but I could tell her heart wasn’t in it.

  I did my best not to stare… But she had nice legs.

  What? I was engaged, not blind.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked.

  “I asked you first,” Sarah replied, putting her hands on her hips.

  “Yes, but I was raised by parents who taught me things like the concept of Ladies’ First,” I said. “You know, because I had parents who actually loved me.”

  “My mom loved me.”

  “Mallory does not-”

  “My mom loved me!” Sarah snapped, actually managing it this time.

  The past tense usage there was… Interesting. Nothing Rose had told me about her childhood would indicate Mallory had ever shown any of them anything more than the barest scraps of affection, and even then only very occasionally. ‘Just enough to make us think we could actually earn her approval one day’ were her exact words. Maybe Sarah had been shown those scraps a bit more often, and that was why Mallory’s hooks were in her so deep.

  Or maybe it was something else entirely.

  “You still haven’t answered my question,” I said, folding my arms together.

  “I came here because… Because I needed to hear it from a clergyman,” Sarah said, breaking off eye contact, lips trembling. It almost reminded me of Rose.

  “Hear what?”

  “How anyone could possibly be okay with my bro-”

  I gred at her.

  “With your fiance,” she said. “How God could possibly be okay with it. I needed to hear it from the horse’s mouth. And thought if I didn’t like the answer, I could… I could ignore it.”

  “And? Did you like the answer?”

  She flinched.

  “What did he say to you?” I said.

  She drew in a deep breath, then said, “Said the same thing Rose said, that God wants us to be true to our innermost selves. Even said she has a woman’s soul, and she needs her body to match it in order to be happy. And God… God wants-”

  “God wants us to be happy,” I finished for her.

  “Do you believe that?” Sarah said.

  “I’m not sure I believe in God, to be frank,” I said. “I wouldn’t even call myself agnostic, because that would suggest I’d ever devoted any real thought to it. But it’s what Rose believes, and she’s the most devout person I’ve ever met. Good to know there’s a church that agrees with her take. Maybe this will be a good pce for the wedding.”

  She gulped. She didn’t have an Adam’s Apple like Rose, but otherwise, the mannerism was exactly the same, right down to the nervous look on her face as she did it. And as her makeup continued to break apart, I started noticing something: a fresh bruise on her cheek. “That’s what you’re doing here? Looking for a wedding venue?”

  I nodded.

  “You’re really… You’re really serious about this? About marrying her?”

  I nodded again.

  “W-would you have done the same thing for me?” Sarah said. “If I’d said yes.”

  “Why would I need to?” I said.

  “Because if I’d said yes, I would’ve had to divorce my husband, and the Catholic church is so crazy about divorce or remarriage. I’d have had to go somewhere else for a second wedding.”

  “Is that why you said no?”

  “I… I… I don’t know how to answer that.”

  “Then the answer is no, I wouldn’t have done that for you.”

  “But what if I’d-”

  “You wouldn’t have said yes,” I returned. “There’s no version of us where that happened. There was barely even an us to begin with because you never felt anything for me in the first pce.” Her jaw dropped. “But- but you said you loved me!”

  “And that was a lie I told myself because I was desperate to feel something. Desperate to believe you saw me as anything other than a cock for you to ride whenever you felt like it.”

  “Kyle, I-”

  “You used me, Sarah,” I said in a harsh whisper. “Used me and threw me away. And it hurt like hell. Do you really not get that? That the things you do, the way you are, hurts the people around you? Or do you just not see anyone else as a person? Are you just a monster like Mallory?”

  “I’m not a monster!” she shouted, fists balled, eyes squeezed shut.

  “Then why are you pretending to be one?” I said.

  “I have no choice! It’s the only way I can… The only way I can… The only way I can be safe.” She trailed off as the tears started coming again, washing away the remnants of her foundation. The bruise was pin to see now, massive and hideous.

  “Did Mallory put that there?” I said. “Or did your husband?”

  She gave a bitter ugh. “Sam hasn’t touched me in years, he’s not going to start now. Not even to put me in my pce.” “... Jesus Christ, Sarah,” I said. “You need help.”

  “I don’t!”

  “You’re being abused!” I said.

  “It’s what I deserve!” she screamed.

  “Why?”

  “Because I… It’s my fault Rose is like this! It was just supposed to be a phase that she would outgrow! But it wound up… She wound up exactly like Dad!”

  “I’m sorry, what?” I said.

  “And now I find out that… That maybe what I’ve been taught is… That there’s a possibility that God doesn’t… Then Dad died for nothing and I… I’ve been doing all this for… For nothing. And if that’s true then I’m a bad person and it’s my own fault and it’s too fucking te for me to make any of it right! And now Mom’s hitting me again for the first time in years and it’s too te to stop it!” She screamed like she was bleeding out an infection.

  This was… A lot to take in. Even without the implications regarding the te Mr. O’Neil… Holy shit, Sarah.

  I had to say something. Even if I hated Sarah, even if I could never forgive her for what she’d done to me and what she’d done to the woman I love, I had to try. For Rose’s sake. And because it was the right thing to do.

  “It’s not too te for you, Sarah.”

  “It is!” she insisted.

  “No, it isn’t. Wanna know how I know?”

  “How?”

  “Because since I stopped you from misgendering your sister, you’ve been calling her Rose this entire conversation.”

  Sarah blinked, then opened her eyes wide.

  Then she turned around and started walking back towards her car. “I have to go. I need to speak with Mother.”

  “Sarah,” I said, beginning to follow her.

  “Don’t!” she croaked. “Just don’t.”

  And so, I nodded a third time. And so, I let her walk away from me again.

  ***

  Later that day, I picked Rose up from work and filled her in as I drove us home.

  She rested her head against the window as we drove in silence. As we pulled up to a red light, probably yet another longest red light in the world knowing my luck, the ck of noise became downright suffocating.

  “Please say something,” I said as I squeezed the steering wheel.

  “Uh… I mean, first off, thank you for finding that church for me. I’d like to attend a service there before we actually commit to having our wedding there, but that’s honestly super cool of you to do all that for me,” she said.

  “Of course,” I nodded.

  “And Sarah… Yeah, this makes a lot of sense,” Rose said. “She and I were always the most religious ones in our family. Sarah taught CCD in high school, for crying out loud.”

  “What’s CCD?”

  “Uh… Hebrew school for Catholic kids,” she expined.

  “Ah.’

  “Maybe… Maybe there’s a chance she can come back from all that she’s done,” Rose said. “I know you probably still hate her-”

  “I do.”

  “And I get it, and I don’t expect you to ever forgive her. But… Can you at least get why I might want to?”

  “If she earns it, then I have no problem with it,” I said, the light turning green. I put my foot down on the gas and continued, “If she gets on her knees and begs forgiveness, she can come to our wedding for all I care.”

  “Mm. She is technically the one who brought us together. Very technically, but still.”

  “She’s sitting way in the back, though,” I said.

  “Yes. Let’s take things one step at a time, but… Yes.”

  I gave a heavy sigh as I kept driving. “Okay. I guess we’re doing this, then.”

  “Doing what?”

  “Waking her up,” I said simply. “How do you wanna start?”

  “I think… I think my dad might be the key to all this,” Rose said. “Though he might not have been my dad at all, based on what Sarah said. He… She might have been my mom.”

  “That was the impression I got, yeah,” I said. “How you doing with that?”

  “It’s a lot to process, but it would expin a lot,” Rose replied. “By the sound of it, it’s the focal point of all this. Sarah’s guilt and shame is based around me and our… Our te mother, and knowing Mallory, she’s desperate for that information not to get out. If we can find some kind of proof, hard evidence, then we might be able to wake Sarah up and get Mallory to end her hostile takeover of VDAC in one fell swoop.”

  “And how are we going to do that?” I said as our apartment came into view at the end of the street. “How do we even know something like that exists? Wouldn’t Mallory have destroyed any evidence?”

  “No, that’s the thing. Mallory doesn’t throw away files or information or anything, really. She’s the most organized person I know, and she keeps everything where she knows she can find it on the off-chance she ever has need for it. Most likely, she’d keep some evidence about my mom on-hand to manipute Sarah with, or possibly me in case she wanted to try to ‘scare me straight’ or something.”

  “Okay. So where might she keep something like that?”

  “I think I have an idea,” Rose said as we entered the parking garage below our building.

  “Go on.”

  “The most likely pce for something like that, a photo or a journal or any piece of proof, would be at my childhood home in Back Bay.”

  I pulled into our parking spot. “Are you suggesting we heist your childhood home, Briar?”

  “I am indeed,” she smiled as she unbuckled. “And I know exactly when we can do it. Sarah and Sam hold a big wedding anniversary party at our childhood home every year-”

  “That’s deeply weird.”

  “I agree. And we will never do anything like that. On our anniversaries, we will go out for dinner and then bone-down like a normal couple,” Rose said as we walked through the garage over to the elevator. “But regardless: that’s the perfect time for us to slip in.”

  “I don’t think we’ll be on the guest list, Briar.”

  “We don’t need to be,” she said, her daredevil smile sprouting on her perfect face. “I recommended a catering company to them years ago and they’ve used it every time.”

  I ughed. “You’re kidding me? Rachel and Lisa-”

  “I left out the part where they’re gay, and that Lisa’s trans,” Rose said as she pushed the up button on the elevator. “Actually, I might have just forgotten that part entirely at the time. Which is my bad. But I guess it worked out for us.”

  “So what, we go in disguised as part of the catering crew-”

  “And bring a change of clothes so we can blend in at the party-”

  “And then scope the pce out until we find what we’re looking for!” we both said at the same time. At which point the elevator door opened and we stepped inside.

  “You realize, of course, this will be our most dangerous game to date, right?” I said as the elevator door closed and we began our ascent. “Not to mention our most insane.”

  “Fuck yeah, it is,” Rose kept smiling. “What’s the matter, Duggan? You scared?”

  “Hell no,” I said, my confidence mirroring her own. “Game on, Briar Rose. Game on.”