Page 49 of His Elder

"Maybe that's what I deserve."

"No." His grip tightened. "You deserve to exist. Fully. Not as some half-version of yourself that you've carved down to fit their mould."

"I don't know how to do that."

"Then let me show you."

He leaned forward, his forehead resting against mine, and for a moment, I let myself have it. This closeness. This tenderness. Then I pulled back.

"Eli, please. We can't."

His hands fell away. He stood, his face carefully blank. "Right. We can't."

He left the room, and I was alone again.

The knock on the apartment door came at 4:47 p.m.

Eli and I had been sitting at opposite ends of the couch, our planning session a stilted, painful exercise in avoidance. When the knock echoed through the apartment, we both froze.

It wasn't the polite knock of an investigator or another missionary stopping by. It was authoritative. Demanding.

I stood and opened the door.

Elder Kempton stood in the hallway, his expression carved from stone.

"Elder Price," he said. "May I come in?"

It wasn't really a question. I stepped aside, and he entered, his eyes immediately sweeping the apartment. He took in theclean kitchen, the closed bedroom door, the two of us standing awkwardly in the living area.

"Elder Vance," Kempton said, his tone clipped.

"Elder Kempton." Eli's voice was flat.

Kempton walked slowly through the space, his hands clasped behind his back. He stopped in front of the bookshelf, where my pristine scriptures sat next to Eli's worn, annotated copies. He picked up one of Eli's, flipping through it.

"Interesting notes," he said mildly. "Very... interpretive."

Eli said nothing.

Kempton set the book down and turned to face us. "I came to check on you both. There have been some concerns."

"Concerns?" I echoed.

"About the spirit in this apartment." His eyes moved between us. "Or rather, the lack of it."

The silence that followed was suffocating.

"I'm not sure what you mean," I said carefully.

Kempton smiled, but it didn't touch his eyes. "Elder Price, I've been a missionary for nearly two years. I know what a companionship looks like when the Spirit is present. And I know what it looks like when something... else... has taken its place." He paused. "This apartment feels dead."

Eli's jaw clenched, but he kept his mouth shut.

"We've been working hard," I said. "Maybe we're just tired."

"Tired." Kempton repeated the word like it was foreign. "Or distracted?"

"We're not distracted."