Thirteen Crucifixions, 82

“So, you’ve made your decision.”

            “We both have, it seems”, said Glen.

            “In three months Chris is going to ask you to re-evaluate your reasons for being here.  You know that, don’t you?”

            “He’s told us.  How about you?”

            “It’s coming up in a couple of weeks.”

            “Your first?”

            “Yes”, said Matthew.  Three months.  It feels like three years.”

            Glen noticed that he wasn’t smiling.  He resisted an urge to ask Matthew how he felt about it.  It had been raining throughout his and Michael’s trip to the community.  Now the sun was beginning to break, its strong midsummer light pouring now into the common area where they were sitting with Michael.

            “What’s the rule of thumb?” Michael asked.

            “This isn’t a traditional monastery”, Matthew said, “Not by any stretch of the imagination.  We don’t accept final or solemn vows.”

            “So what do you do instead?”

            “For the first year, each new member is required to re-evaluate his or her reasons for being here at three month intervals.  The second year it’s every six months.  After that you’re required to do it annually.  This way no one has to feel pressured or coerced into staying here.”

            “Are there any who leave?” Glen asked.

            “Quite a few don’t stay beyond the first three months. Every one of them is sent off with a blessing.  They always return to visit.  Two have returned to stay.”

            “How about you, Matthew?” Michael asked.

            “I expect to be here for a while, anyway.  I mean, I don’t seem to have any other place to go.”

            “But is that a good reason for being here?” Michael said.

            “It’ll have to do.”

            “What about calling?”

            “That goes without saying.  I’ve never questioned the necessity of my being here, and unless something else opens up, this is where I stay.”

            “What else could open up for you?”

            “I don’t know.  Right now nothing else seems relevant.  Therefore this is where I am.”

            “The glass is half-empty.”

            “It is neither empty nor full.”

            “Are you still happy here?”

            “No.  I’m not. But neither am I unhappy.”

            “So then why stay?”

            “Why not?  Michael, there is nothing else for me but here.  Please accept this.”

            “Even if you’re not happy?”

            “That’s a word that no longer fits in my vocabulary.”

            “Well, if you want to remain miserable for the rest of your life here—“

            “—That isn’t it either.”

            Both had withdrawn into the silence of their accustomed armed camps.  Glen could tell they’d had this sort of quarrel many times throughout their relationship.

            “You’ve seen my portraits?” Glen said.

            “I have”, Michael said.

            “Have you noticed that my faces are never smiling?”

            “Yeah.  They look pretty intense.”

            “But not unhappy?”

            “No, they look miserable.”

            “Because they’re not smiling?”

            “Yeah, because they’re not smiling.”

            “Oh, you just can’t appreciate ambiguity”, Matthew said.  “You still see everything in black and white. You relate only to absolutes.”

            “I just don’t have time for a lot of misery and negativity.”

            “But who’s being miserable and negative?’

            “There you go again, trying to make me wrong”, Michael said peevishly. “You’re always trying to make me wrong.”

            “Michael, no one’s trying to make you wrong.”

            “But you’re telling me how to think.  You’ve always tried to tell me how to think.”

            “Now you’re really talking horse shit.”

            “You never take anything I say seriously.  You’ve never taken me seriously.”

            “Because you take yourself so seriously.”

            “You know that isn’t true.  Matthew, it’s not like I’m still this twenty-year-old kid you can still control—“

            “—What are you talking about?  When have I ever tried to control you?”

            “You’ve always controlled me.  I’m almost forty now for fuck sake.  I’m your age when we first met.  Doesn’t this mean anything to you?”

            “Yes, it means something to me.”

            “What?”

            “Michael, can we have a time-out, please?”

            “I want you to answer my question.”

            “Not till we’ve had a time out.  I don’t feel that we can discuss things rationally right now."

            “Now you’re calling me irrational.  Just like you always use to do.”

            Matthew was heading toward the door.

            “Where do you think you’re going?” Michael said imperiously.

            “Away.”  He was almost at the door.

            “Wait.  Don’t leave.”

            “Just give me half an hour.  I’ll be back in thirty minutes.”

            “Matthew, don’t go.”

            “Thirty minutes, Michael.  Please.”  He sounded weary, old and defeated.

            “Matthew.  I love you.”

            “Thanks.” He was gone.

            Glen sipped his coffee, now grown cold, and tried not to look at Michael who sat next to him with his eyes closed.

            “Sorry.  I didn’t mean to insult your art.  Your stuff’s actually awesome.  Including your portraits.  I was just trying to get Matthew.  Fuck—we haven’t fought like that in ages.”

            “Are you sure you should be doing this?  Living here, I mean.”

            “Yes.”

            “What if Matthew were to leave?”

            “He won’t leave.”

            “But what if?  Would you still stay here?”

            “Yes.”

            “And if Adam left?”

            “I would still want to be here.”

            “And me.  What if I left?”

            “But you’re not going to leave.  Are you?”

            “Not for the next three months, anyway.”

            Michael smiled and briefly caressed Glen’s forearm.

            “So I’m the reason you’re staying?”

            “Don’t flatter yourself.”

            “But am I?”

            “I don’t know.”

            “So you’re feeling ambiguous.”

            “Don’t grill me.”

            “You mean you haven’t yet figured it out?”

            “So what am I supposed to say?   That you’re the reason I want to stay here?  Well, maybe you are.  I don’t know.”

            “The glass is neither empty nor full.”

            “Will you shut-up!”

            “Sorry.”  Perhaps Michael was really upset that Sheila was selling the house.  Glen didn’t know what to say.

            “Actually, there is no glass.”

            “You’re probably right.”

            “And what about you?  What are you doing here?”

            “I’m going to try it for three months.”

            “Because I’m here.”

            “No, because this seems to be it for now.  I’m also glad you’re here, by the way.”

            “What about Matthew?”

            “He’s okay.  I like him.  I can’t say that we’re profoundly connected or anything, but he’s good company, I sense he’s very good-hearted.  I like that about him.”

            “Matthew’s a saint.  Even before his conversion.  All the crap he endured from me, without complaining.  Hardly ever.  Pouring out all this love for me which for years I didn’t even return.  Then I finally did fall in love with him.  And he left.  I’m still in love with him.  But it’s different now.  I can’t reach him like I used to.  Like today.  He’s never left like that before.  It’s the first time he’s refused to fight with me.  It’s like, something’s died in him concerning me.  He no longer loves me.  At least not like before.  And here I am, ass over teapot in love with him.  And now I can’t do anything with it!”

            “Where are you going?”

            “I need to get out and walk for a while.  Maybe go write in my journal.  What are you going to do?”

            “I feel kind of whacked so I think I’ll have a nap.  Until vespers, anyway.”

            “Want to reconnect this evening?”

            “Sure.  Grab me after supper.”

            Michael stood there and looked at Glen, then leant over and kissed him on the lips.  After he left he remained seated in his chair until the sun became too hot for him.  Still tasting Michael on his lips, Glen got up and went outside, hoping not to run into Matthew or Michael till after he’d had some rest.