The Sanctuary by Arika Stone

I fibbed.
    He grabbed a cup and glanced over my shoulder. “And reading my email was going to get you there?”
    “No, I just turned it on.”
    He kissed me on the cheek. “You are a terrible liar. If you weren’t blushing, I probably would have believed you.”
    I laughed; at least he wasn’t too mad. “So?” I gestured to the screen, questioning what I had read.
    “I’m not happy. I have a gallery exhibit in Paris in December and now a rigorous rehearsal schedule. I wanted to spend as much time with you as I could.” He stood behind me, hugging me.
    “But you’ll be in the States next year too. We’ll have more time together then.”
    “And after the release, I’ll be away for at least a year on tour. I’m not happy; I wanted to focus on us. I don’t want us to fail.”
    I faced him. “You can stay at my place when you’re in LA.” The invitation escaped from my lips.
    “Will you be there?”
    “I’ll try. It depends on my schedule.” I paused and gazed deeply into his eyes. “Are we going to work?”
    “I’m not planning on leaving you.”
    Fear flooded my body. Everything we had spoken about erased in an instant. My soul faced enormous internal conflict that I couldn’t resolve; I’d found love, but our worlds clashed with each other. We could never be together unless one of us changed.
    He kissed me softly on the lips. “Don’t fret. We’ll work it out.”
    “I can’t help but worry.”
    “Let me do the worrying for us. I have no fears. We will get through it. It’s going to be a beautiful day. What would you like to do?”
    “I haven’t seen the churches. And since it’s Sunday, can we go?”
    He eyed me suspiciously, walking to the counter to pour coffee. “Is there a particular denomination you would prefer to attend?”
    “No, I’m agnostic. I was raised Catholic though.”
    “Humph,” he said snidely, staring out the window.
    “What’s that supposed to mean?”
    “Your church…”
    I cut him off, sternly. “It’s not my church. All I said was I was raised Catholic.”
    He turned around and stared at me coolly. “I’m not a fan of organized religions. They are hypocritical. They’ve ruined countries. They’ve taken lands they did not own. They converted people and those who would not obey, and they condemn or kill. And even in today’s world, many suppress women with their archaic, patriarchal views. So go pray to your God, who is deaf and blind, and pray he has mercy on your soul.”
    “Fuck you!” I threw my cup of coffee at him with all my might. He ducked as the cup landed squarely against the wall, shattering it into a million pieces. I began to cry. “You have no right! You have no idea what I’ve been through!” I shouted through sobs, unable to control the oncoming panic attack.
    Val stared at the broken mug before turning his attention to me. “Do you care to tell me what this is about?” he stated quite calmly.
    I buried my face into my hands. I couldn’t look at him. I could hear his footsteps crunch on the broken glass with each step he took toward me. He went to place his hand on my shoulder, but I shrugged him off.
    “Don’t touch me.”
    “Eve…”
    I sighed, trying to catch my breath between sobs. I swallowed hard, trying to get the words out. “I can’t.”
    He leaned on the counter next to me, searching my face for an answer. He placed his hand on my arm gently.
    I sighed. “I don’t like talking about it.” I pulled away and wiped my tears on the sleeve of my shirt.
    “But maybe it will help.”
    I paused briefly. The floodgates were about to open. “Why?” I slammed my hands on the granite. “It doesn’t matter. You can’t change the past.” I rubbed my forehead and sighed.
    He pulled up a stool and sat next to me, waiting as he always did for me to continue.
    “Why do I bare my soul to you?” I was teary-eyed. “I’m sorry I threw the cup at you and broke it. I will replace it.”
    “Don’t worry it; it’s not