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“My dad.” That’s all she says.

“What? What about him?” I ask, stalling for her by wiping her tears away while she tries to compose herself enough to get out a full sentence.

“He wrote-” she says between sniffles. “He wrote to me.”

Drew holds out a crumpled piece of paper. I take it and try my best to flatten it out, using the dim moonlight to make out the sloppily scribbled words on the paper. I would use my phoneflashlight, but right now feels like an awkward time to whip out my phone and admit my vision isn’t as good as I claim it to be.

The words hit me like a train, and it’s not even my father. I can’t imagine how Drew must be feeling right now, getting a letter from a man who hasn’t shown up for you for years, now claiming he’s finally ready to be back in your life.

I don’t say anything at first. I just gently bring her legs around and pull her close to me as I lie horizontally on the blanket. She buries her wet face into my chest, and I hold her head, stroking her hair and rubbing her back as she blubbers into my shirt.

We lay for a solid half hour in silence. At some points, I think she’d fallen asleep, but then I’m reassured that she hasn’t by a strong sniffle. I want to say something to her. Anything. Anything to make her feel better. To comfort her.

I wish I were the one with the magical stopwatch now, going on and on about the new dimension I found for us to live in. One without parents or religious guilt or colleges. One where the only inhabitants are us and the frogs and the rabbits.

I imagine what she’d look like coming home to our cozy little cottage in the middle of the forest with a basket of berries she’d just picked for our dinner while I was home teaching the birds that live in our flowerbeds to hum her favorite melody. Everything in that universe feels like pure bliss.

I know we can’t, though. We can’t just run away from all of our problems indefinitely. But we can forget them, just for tonight.

“I’m missing a Youth Group meeting right now.” I finally break the silence. I hope we can laugh over Donovan’s stupidly loud voice, his mother’s oddly wrinkly figure—for a fifty-year-old, at least—and Father Robert’s overexcitement that I can tell is way fake.

She chuckles through sniffles, even though what I just said isn’t even the part of today I’d consider funny. I soften at the sound of her laugh. If there’s anything I know about Drew, it’s that she’sthe type of person to appreciate silent comfort, and then distractions right after. She’s not one to talk out her feelings, or really even talk at all about the matter at hand during a crisis.

I keep going.

“Father Robert acted super okay with it. Almost too okay. He’s always too everything. Too enthusiastic. Too excited. Too talkative.” I meet her eyes with mine as she pulls her head up to look at me for the first time since we’ve lain down. “And Donovan! Don’t get me started on Donovan! I think my mother definitely likes him more than I do. She called him handsome like a gazillion times on the ride home-”

“Wait, who’s Donovan?” Drew perks up, sounding more alarmed than anything right now, like she wasn’t just bawling her eyes out a minute ago.

I have to admit, jealousy is a cute look on her. Part of me wants to rave on about all of his amazing qualities now, if I can even find enough, just to watch her get possessive. Unfortunately, I know better than to salt the wound, and I’ve always taken pride in my “high level of maturity,” as my mother calls it.

“Donovan is an obnoxiously loud and charming—to adults—guy who thinks he’s the leader of the whole church. And also happens to be my mentor for Youth Group.”

Her body softens at the negative words I used to describe Donovan. “Doesn’t that kind of defeat the purpose of a leadership role?You’resupposed to be the mentor.”

“Exactly.” I deadpan. “I don’t even know what that leadership position entails yet.”

Drew shifts her body on the blanket so she’s facing me, her head propped up on one arm, the other arm draped over her torso. She looks so beautiful tonight. Seeing her curves under the moonlight—the very curves I depicted on the project I’ve yet to finish–certainly doesn’t help my conflicting feelings toward her.

This shouldn’t be this complicated. She likes me, I like her- no, Ilove her. I’m in love with her. So why can’t I let myself just be happy with her? Why do my thoughts make me question every bit of safety she’s provided me? Why can’t I let them go? Why does it feel like an ultimatum war in my head? Her, or the thoughts. The thoughts, or her. Only one gets to stay. I don’t get to have her and Mother’s—and Holy Trinity’s—validation.

Tonight completely threw off any plans I had to slowly distance myself from her, to start the healing process now rather than later, if I was even planning on doing that.

I could be selfish. I could choose her. I could let everything the church told me roll off my back. I could be a non-believer because I’d have Drew to believe in. I’d have our love to believe in. I just couldn’t seem to shake the feeling of disappointment that would come with that decision or the lack of presence of a thing that’s been such a huge part of my upbringing.

Honestly, it would be less selfish to break her heart now than to let her believe in something impossible between us, only to break it later.

My thoughts are interrupted by Drew clearing her throat quietly.

“Laine,” she says softly. “Do you actually, like, believe in that stuff ?”

I take a deep breath, knowing where this is going but secretly holding out hope that maybe, just maybe, she means something else.

“In the Youth Group leadership program? No, I think all the people who come to mass are equal followers. I don’t believe in this elitist type club they have going on.”

“No, like, the whole church thing.” She pauses, my chest pounding, dreading what comes next. “Does Holy Trinity feel like home to you in the way that we feel like home to each other?”

Her words hit me like a weight. The person I care about most in the whole world right now is asking me the same question I askmyself every night. Except, I’ve been content not having an exact answer for myself for now. But with Drew, I want to answer right. I’m just not exactly sure what the right answer is, so I give her the best I got.