When We Were Enemies: A Novel(78)

The computer mic picks up Hunter’s chuckle, and I’m sure my eyes are wide. I knew a little about the Pre-Cana from my time as an all-in Catholic, but I guess I didn’t consider that Patrick would lead a discussion with me and Hunter about sex and purity. Especially not on camera. I address Mac directly rather than express my not-so-holy thoughts about the Bible verses we just heard.

“I’m not comfortable with this.”

“Sorry, dear. What don’t you feel comfortable with specifically?” he asks in his charming British accent, looking at me over his monitor.

“Talking about my sex life in front of a viewing audience,” I clarify, bristling at his pushback. Mac doesn’t respect my boundaries—must be why he gets along so well with my mother.

“I don’t mind,” Hunter chimes in through the screen, straightening his suit coat. “What’s wrong, babe? Worried we’ll make ’em jealous?” He’s joking, and normally I’d laugh, but this isn’t some cute banter between the two of us about our sexy love life. Father Patrick is the last man I want thinking about me having sex with my fiancé.

“It’s a cheap gimmick—you know—‘sex sells,’ etc., etc. It’s gross,” I explain, twisting my face up like the idea of it makes me ill.

Father Patrick closes the book with his finger keeping his place. “It is a part of the curriculum, but if Elise is uncomfortable, then she shouldn’t be forced into an embarrassing public conversation.”

Mac rolls his eyes and sighs. “Fine. We’ll take a break. You get through all the naughty bits, and we’ll be back in ten, okay?”

“That works,” I say, still dreading the conversation with Patrick and Hunter but hating it a touch less, knowing it won’t be on camera. The room empties faster than if I’d yelled fire, and Patrick reopens the binder and clears his throat.

“Should I read the scripture again?”

“No,” I blurt. “I think we got the picture.”

“All right, then—what have you observed from the verses?” he asks, looking between Hunter and me. The Patrick I knew from last night is nowhere to be found. This formal young priest is a stranger in comparison.

“Uh, pretty much that we’re terrible, terrible sinners,” Hunter says, his eyes on me in that hungry way they get when we’ve been apart for too long. And I can’t stop the little involuntary smirk I get when we talk about our sex life. Which is playful, innovative, intense, and dare I say—aerobic. I shake my head, trying to discourage flirty innuendos, but I’m sure my facial expression is sending mixed signals.

“What? Don’t tell me you’re all holy now. The only time you’ve mentioned God before is when you’re screaming.”

“Hunter!” I scold, trying not to laugh. “Stop. This is serious.”

“I’m just saying—we don’t need a sex ed lecture. We know how the parts work. We’re grown-ups. You know?”

“I do, I do,” Patrick says, biting his lip and bobbing his head up and down. “You know what? Since there’s a time constraint, I’ll just read what it says here.” Father Patrick shifts in his chair and reads from the binder. “Do you live together?”

“No,” Hunter and I say at the same time.

“All right. That’s good.” Father Patrick makes a note on a form next to the binder, then goes back to the printed instructions. “It’s suggested that you refrain from living together until you’ve made your marriage covenant.”

“That one’s easy,” Hunter says. “Don’t even live in the same state right now. Is there a box to check for that?”

“Uh, no,” Father Patrick answers, scanning the page with his pointer finger, serious. He summarizes the next point without looking at either Hunter or me. “It also is suggested you refrain from physical intimacy from now till the wedding.”

“Once again, not in the same state,” Hunter says, and then mouths “for now.”

Father Patrick accepts his answer and doesn’t ask me anything directly. His cheeks are flushed, and though Hunter likely thinks he’s a sexually repressed religious ideologue, I can tell this isn’t easy or comfortable for him.

“I know we’re short on time, so I’ll read the closing of this section. It’s a good summary, and I’ll copy the pages for you to look through on your own.” He turns three pages and then points to a paragraph at the bottom of the last one.

My head pounds as he reads. “The Catholic Church teaches every act of sexual intercourse is planned by God to express love, commitment, and openness to life. It is a gift of total intimacy.” He glances up at me and then back at the page, the brief eye contact sending a shock through my nervous system. I watch his mouth make the shape of each word as he closes his reading with, “This, we believe, is only available in marriage.”

Total intimacy.

The phrase sticks with me, and I consider my relationship with Hunter. We have physical intimacy, and we have some emotional intimacy, for sure. But total intimacy? The phrase loops through my mind, creating a hypnotic buzz that overrides anything Patrick is saying.

“And just to be clear—we do have that ‘openness to life’ part. We definitely want kids. Right, Lisey?”