The Vows We Break - Serena Akeroyd Page 0,24

this is his church?

Well, it’s like a warm embrace.

Having seen him in the flesh?

I know this is meant to be.

He’s beautiful, but hard. Cold. His eyes are like stones, obsidian, where before they were like amber.

That first time I saw him, the picture of him fresh out of Seminary flashing onto the TV? He’d been warm. Open. Hopeful. Like he knew he could make a difference and, so badly, wanted to try.

Now, he’s the exact opposite.

Yet I know how it works. Have been to many churches where the priest didn’t give a shit, and after service, would just wander away and retreat to the confessional or to the back of the chapel where his office was. They didn’t engage with the parish, didn’t give a damn about the community.

Savio cares.

I can feel it, even though when he looked at me, it wasn’t with the link I’d hoped for.

My lip aches from where I’ve been nibbling on it, but the truth is, I’m nervous.

For so long, Savio has been a part of my life, and he hasn’t even known it. I pick up my phone and scroll through the doc I have on him. It’s like a patchwork quilt with all the different screenshots I’ve taken over the months. Articles here, reports there. Small church newsletters, some pieces he wrote in Seminary where he spoke about his relationship with his faith.

I collated them all, desperate to know everything about him.

When I think about it, I know I sound crazy, but it was just a way of connecting with him. A lifeline amid the pain and discomforting treatment I’ve gone through this past year.

It’s weird how that thought only comes to me now when I’m here in church though.

It’s been a long time since I’ve sat through communion, a long time since I’ve actually been in a chapel for this long.

Once I left home, when I started college, that was it for me. Mom and Dad gave me shit about never attending church, but I didn’t listen.

What were they going to do?

Travel to Michigan to make me go every Sunday?

Hell, that was one of the reasons why I chose my college, one that was across the country from my folks! I didn’t want to be pressured anymore about attending service.

So, though I visited church for the Christmas service when I was home with my parents, and rolled through the motions of it, nothing has affected me like Savio’s.

There’s something about him, something that isn’t right.

I can’t put my finger on it. Not entirely.

I guess… Well, I guess it’s like he’s going through the motions too.

Each word is cold. Imbued with no feeling. There’s no passion, no...

It strikes me then.

No faith.

He says the words, but he doesn’t feel them.

I guess, after what he went through, that fits.

But it saddens me.

It’s been a long time since he was in Algeria, since he was released. If it still affects him, why is he a priest?

Why hasn’t he left?

I mean, it’s not that unusual for someone to lose their way, to take another path. It’s not like being a priest is a life sentence, so why hasn’t he defrocked himself?

I tug at my lip again, trying to figure him out. As I settle deeper into my coat, my back aches where my wings sit, and I tug my collar up higher so that my breath blows back on me, warming me up.

Late February in Rome isn’t exactly warm, but it’s been surprisingly sunny. Also, kind of humid. In the shade it’s frigid, with a wind so bitter it cuts you in two. Then, in the sun, it’s hot enough to make you regret wearing a coat.

I spent yesterday exploring the place, enjoying learning about the city that was to be my home for the next couple of months.

My base, as it were.

And I love it here.

It’s exactly what I need. A new leaf, a fresh start where few people know me enough to actually worry about me. To watch me, and wonder if I’m going to head to the roof and dive off it because of my wings…

With my sunglasses on, a woolly hat on my head, and a scarf around half my face, no one knows me, and I like that. I’m incognito again. For a blissful few moments. Until the sun pops out from behind thick clouds, of course, and then it’s either be recognized or sweat to death.

Like I said, it’s surprisingly warm in the sun. Just not in here.

I hear a soft