“You don't have a room?” I asked.
He shook his head. “This was my family home, but when I started using it for charity work, I ceased keeping a room here. My work keeps me downtown most of the time, so I rarely come out here.”
I wasn't sure why this came as a surprise to me, but it did. I hadn't realized that I'd be staying with X alone.
“You'll have the top floor,” Father O'Toole said, walking back through the living room to the stairs. “There's a bedroom, full bath, and an extra room that I had set up as a living room of sorts. You're welcome to make any changes you wish. I want you to think of it as yours for as long as you're with us.”
I didn't want to think about how long or short that would be.
He started up the stairs and I followed.
“X has the second floor. There's a bedroom, full bath, living room, and I turned the fourth room into a therapy room for him. I had his physical therapist order the latest equipment. You'll meet him on Monday. He's the only one X hasn't chased off.” The priest paused on the landing and gestured down the hall. “We keep all of the medical supplies in the therapy room. First door to the left.”
I nodded, wondering which room X was in, and why he was hiding. Unless he was sleeping, which I didn't doubt was a possibility. He'd slept fitfully in the hospital and I doubted it'd gotten any better here. If it had, I wouldn't be here.
Before I spent too much time wondering, the first door on the right opened and a billow of steam rushed out.
Bathroom.
Then X followed, confirming my guess as he stepped into the hallway, drying his hair with the towel hanging around his neck. His skin glistened with moisture and I watched a drop of water make its way down his chest.
And then I realized that he didn't have a towel around his waist.
Heat flooded my face as I pulled my gaze up just in time to see his eyes narrow.
“What the fuck is she doing here?”
The words felt like a blow. I hadn't expected overwhelming happiness, but I'd at least thought he'd be cordial.
“Xavier!” Father O'Toole said sharply.
He stepped in front of me, as if to shield me from the sight of X's naked body. Or maybe to protect me from the words. Probably both.
“It's not like she hasn't seen a naked man before, Father.” X's voice was full of bitterness. “And she won’t cringe away from the scars. You don't need to block her. Let her see that I'm fine and she can go back to her boyfriend and parents and job with a clear conscience.”
“She's not here to appease her conscience, X.” Father O'Toole remained firmly in front of me. “I hired her to help here.”
“I don't need her help,” he snapped. “You hear that, Nori? I don't need you here.”
“You obviously need something.” Father O'Toole's voice hardened. “You weren't supposed to get those bandages wet. You're going to make things worse.”
The pain I heard in X's brittle laugh twisted my heart.
“I doubt it. Why don't you just leave me alone? I can take care of myself.” He raised his voice slightly. “Go home, Nori. I don't want you here.”
A door slammed and I watched the priest's shoulders slump. I forced myself to keep my face blank. People who were hurting always said things they didn't mean, or even if they meant them, they came out more cruel and cutting than they would have under normal circumstances. Sometimes it was anger that they were broken and the people around them were whole. Sometimes it was fear of rejection. I had a feeling that it was both for X. I reminded myself of that and pushed the hurt aside.
“This way.” The father continued up the stairs and I followed.
It was slightly smaller up here than the second floor had been, the walls and ceiling clearly sloped to accommodate the roof. It was still the same size as my apartment back in Texas.
Father O'Toole turned to me. “Feel free to explore and arrange things to suit your tastes. All of the rooms are furnished and the linen closet is fully stocked. If you decide to stay, you can bring whatever you want from home. There are plenty of places these things can go where they'll do good.”
“And if I don't stay?” I asked quietly.
The priest's eyes saddened. “I'd never pressure you, my dear, but I do hope you'll stay on. What you saw downstairs...in the week since he's been back, he cycles between rude and belligerent, to not wanting to even get out of bed. I'm not sure which is the most frightening.”
I swallowed hard. I knew all too well what the father was feeling.
“I've helped all I can,” he continued. “But I'm afraid that if something doesn't change for X...” His voice trailed off for a moment. “I believe you're the only person who can help him.”