Kayleigh McNamara

The Echo of A Lonely Parishoner

PUBLISHED IN FOLIO 2026: VOL. 41.

Elise sat sulking on her bedroom floor beneath the dim glow of old Christmas lights. Her mascara was smudged. Jeans unbuttoned. She embraced the silence after a night of loud music and strong drinks. The hour crept impatiently past two in the morning and as if she were simply a ghost of memory from so many nights this past year, she found herself answering the call of Bennett Cole.

They had ended their involvement three months ago, just after Thanksgiving break. He insisted he didn’t want a relationship and, seeing as she never asked him to be in one, she was offended by the implication. It was embarrassing, she believed, to show love to someone who’s made it clear they don’t feel the same. A casual thing can only last for so long. It had run its natural course. But of course, habits are hard to break.

“Elise.”

“Hello?” she answered.

“I’m sorry. I’ve been an asshole.”

He wasn’t wrong and she wasn’t surprised. Bennett spoke like this from the beginning. As if confessing to her absolved him of any wrongdoing. She took it upon herself to be his penance.

“I don’t know what you want me to say.” It was all she could think to reply. It was the truth. She had no more words to give him. Certainly none that hadn’t already been said.

“I just want to see you.”

She understood. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to see him, but she couldn’t stand to give him the satisfaction of her defeat. Like he was something she couldn’t say no to. Without responding, she stood up and made her way to the bathroom.

“Elise?”

“I know.” It was a quiet, pained admission.

“Is that a yes?”

“It’s not a no.”

There was something intoxicating about the way she could depend on him to come back to her. She supposed he felt the same. Elise stood at the mirror, wiping her makeup into thick dark circles around her eyes.

“I’m drunk.”

At this, Elise laughed.

“Me too.”

“Can we have chicken nuggets?”

“I’ll start the oven.”

She tip-toed down the creaky stairs of the old rental house and turned on the kitchen light. Its fluorescent bulb kicked in with a hum.

“You’ll have to be quiet when you get here. Everyone is already asleep.”

“Are you trying to hide me from your roommates?”

Elise didn’t hide her friends' distaste for Bennett. They didn’t like the way that he always left the toilet seat up or the way he felt entitled to her. But then, his friends weren’t too fond of her either.

“It’s just late. I don’t want to wake them up.”

“It’s fine, I know your friends hate me.”

Once again, Elise was at a loss for words. She couldn’t deny it entirely.

“They don’t hate you. They hate that I keep seeing you.”

“My friends hate that I keep texting you.”

“We’ll call it even.”

“I’ll see you soon.”

They hung up and she lined the breaded dinosaur nuggets on a sheet pan before going to unlock the front door. He was already there, his tall frame hunched in the doorway.

“Hey,” she whispered. She felt suddenly out of breath.

“It’s freezing out there.” He wiped the February slush off his hair and pulled her in for a hug. He was wearing the navy puffer that complimented the blue in his eyes. She liked that one.

“I still have to put the food in the oven.” Elise walked to the kitchen and he followed like a shadow.

He leaned against the counter, just opposite her. The tight space of the kitchen didn’t leave much space between them. Elise opened the oven door, spilling out the heat. He set a timer and she led him to the couch to wait.

He sat down next to her and the cushion dipped under his weight, nudging her closer. She leaned into the crook of his shoulder and he adjusted his arm to pull her in. He smelled of salt and sandalwood and even the beer on his breath wasn’t entirely unpleasant.

“Did you talk to anyone at the bar tonight?” He asked with his mouth pressed against her hair.

“What kind of question is that?” She murmured her reply into his t-shirt and rolled her eyes.

“So you did?” His thumb brushed back and forth across her hand.

“No, but I did go on a date last week.”

“You find someone better than me?”

He posed it as a joke, but it wasn’t one.

“It was awkward,” she said after a moment. She didn’t tell him that it was the first real date she’d ever been on. That it confirmed the ugly thoughts inside her head. She wasn’t cut out for love or commitment or relationships. Her mother had warned her, the world was divided into Marys and Jezebels. Silly advice. Outdated, harmful. Elise rebuked the sentiment and it only sent her running headfirst into Bennett.

They were quiet after that. The warmth of his chest would have lulled her to sleep if the timer hadn’t gone off. She gathered the nuggets and plated them with two splats of sauce—hot sauce for her, ranch for him.

“I hate that you like hot sauce. It makes your mouth too spicy.”

“You like ketchup.” She turned back to him and scrunched up her nose as they ascended the stairs.

“Lots of people like ketchup.”

“Yeah. Freaks.”

They sat on her bedroom floor, consuming the likeness of something that was not. They played the new day’s Wordle. Bennett got HAUNT in three and offered her the last chicken nugget to atone. She split it with him; her taking the head, him the tail. On the plate, they left behind a marbled canvas of orange and white. Elise wasn’t sure when they’d intersected but could see it was clear now that they had.

“Why do your friends want you to stop texting me?” She looked at him with intention. His gaze held the ground for a beat. He inhaled through his teeth.

“It wasn’t about you. They knew I wouldn’t be able to stop texting you on my own.”

Neither of them said anything else. She despised the pull she felt. She knew it wasn’t real, but then it wasn’t entirely false either.

They fell into each other like old patterns. As though they’d never left. And maybe they never had, because the way they held each other was hopeless. It was polite sex. Perhaps even passionate, though she didn’t like to dwell on that. Lips and fingers intertwined. Compliments breathed in embracing arms. It was a conversation without words. They forgot to be careful—they never could figure out how to, with the other.

They laid there after, nervous and hazy.

“I wouldn’t want to keep it, if I got pregnant. We never talked about that.”

He exhaled, “I figured. I mean, I went to a Catholic high school, so I was taught it was wrong. Murder and all that. But I’m not ready to be a dad. And I think you should have the final call.”

“I was raised Catholic too.” She spoke it softly. “My parents still are—actually, my mom’s been on me about going to church for Ash Wednesday.” She let out a tight laugh. “But yeah, it’s what I would want. I think I would be sad though. It’s weird to think about.”

“Our baby?”

“Yeah. I guess.”

“What do you think it would look like? I was an ugly kid.” He said it absentmindedly, running his hand up her back.

“Don’t say that.” She turned her head to look up at him from his chest. He had an oddly serious look on his face.

“I really was. I was bigger than the other kids, but I hadn’t gotten tall yet, and I wasn’t any good at sports. In fifth grade, my friend told this girl that I liked her. She thought that was gross. I saw her holding his hand the next day.”

Her eyebrows furrowed. She traced a finger along his bicep. She wished she could tell him that his body was perfect as it was. She wished she could draw out his insecurity and bottle it up. She would drink it herself if she had to. But she didn’t say any of that. That wasn’t their deal.

“For the record, I think you look great.” The compliment scraped its way off her tongue. Not because she didn’t mean it, but because she didn’t want it to be counted against her, taken as evidence that she cared more than their allotted amount. “Don’t let that get to your head now.” She tried to joke but her face fell flat. She couldn’t find the humor anymore.

“Tell me one of your bad stories. Make it even.” He rubbed a circle into her wrist.

She felt the air leave her lungs. She heard the words before she felt them come out of her mouth.

“A few years ago, I was in love with this guy from my hometown. We’d been friends since the eighth grade, and we worked together over breaks. When I worked up the nerve to say something, he got weird. We couldn’t even be friends after that. The next week I found out that my mom had cancer and he never reached out.”

“Oh.” He let out more of an involuntary gasp than a reply.

Elise froze. She’d gone too far. She crossed the invisible line they had been dancing on. She wished she could cry, but she knew she couldn’t. Not here. Instead, she swallowed the urge down her burning throat.

“I’m sorry. That was too much.”

“No. I’m sorry. Ah… That’s…”

She let out a genuine laugh, more at his awkwardness than anything.

“That was too intense. We don’t usually do that.”

“Don’t worry. I can handle it.” He smiled at her. He seemed to think on something before deciding to say it. “Anyway, Elise, do you still believe in God?”

At this, her laughter fell out in big gasps. He joined her and all the tension between them diffused.

“I’m not sure, to be honest. I believe something. An energy that we can’t understand. I’d like to think that things happen for a reason. What about you?”

“I have no idea.” His voice was low. “I don’t think I could ever really say that I didn’t.”

She understood that.

“But let’s go to sleep now.” He turned on his side and pulled her against him. With his arm wrapped around her stomach, it was only a few minutes before Elise’s breathing turned to a snore.

She dreamed of a dusty cathedral. Haphazard light fixtures threatened to fall at any second. Sunlight reflected unnaturally through the wall of stained-glass windows, painting the pews in color. She became aware of someone sitting in the front row but didn’t know who it was. Something prevented her feet from walking closer. The tile floor sneered beneath her and she felt hollow. At the altar, a chalice spilled over with red liquid. On the cross, a woman hung, frail, balding, with jaundiced skin, and eyes. She knew those eyes. They were her own. They were her mother’s. They stared unmoving at the ground. From a nailed-up arm, an IV dripped, hallowed wine. Statues of saints and angels frowned at her, disapproving. They urged her to walk toward the altar and the crucifix behind it but still, she could not. Flames licked up her ankles and peppered her legs with kisses. Higher and higher until she was consumed. Flesh melted away, revealing the soft she hid below. In the end it all burned the same, the hard and the soft. In the end, it was all a pile of ash.

Elise woke first, confined in his arms. She slid out to get to the bathroom. Her limbs moved unnaturally. Her body felt foreign. She emptied her bladder and her rotting mind. Leftover alcohol curdled on her tongue. In the mirror, it was hard to ignore. The loneliness was tangible, leaking from her pores. She brushed her teeth and spit out the guilt. She crawled back to the bed and closed Bennett’s arms around ./her like a cage. She only had a few more minutes to revel in it before he set her free. His heart beat against her back. His breath tickled her neck. She drank up the moment until he finally stirred.

“Oh god, my head hurts.” He clutched his temples.

“Advil’s in the top drawer of my desk.”

He got up grabbing his clothes from the floor. After locating the pills, he motioned to her water bottle. She nodded.

“That was the last time,” Elise said, curled up.

“We say that every time.” He pulled his pants on. She remained on the bed, staring out the window to the frozen world outside. He latched his belt buckle.

“Hey, are you okay? You look off.”

She looked up. “Sorry, I’m fine. Just tired.”

“Tell me. What is it?”

“It’s kind of embarrassing, I guess—”

“You’re embarrassed of me?” His eyebrows bunched.

“No, not you. Just that I keep seeing someone that doesn’t like me.” Her eyes gazed past him.

“You know I can’t get into a relationship right now.” He looked at his legs.

It was as though her heart gave out inside of her. That’s not what she meant. Not at all.

“I know. It’s okay.” She bit down on the inside of her cheeks. She had brought this on herself.

“I’m not good at this. Can I give you a hug?”

She stitched a smile across her face and folded her arms. “No, don’t worry. I promise I’m okay.”

“Please.” Concern wrinkled his face, and his eyes looked sad. She just nodded and leaned in, a bit reluctant. His arms held her close, but not close enough. With her face in his neck, she squeezed her eyelids shut.

She kind of hated Bennett. She wasn’t sure what kind of person that made her. Whether it was cruel to him, cruel to herself, she tried not to dwell on it for too long. All she knew was that in the moment, they needed each other. Mutually beneficial parasites, they leeched on and took for themselves what they needed.

He mumbled with his lips pressed into her hair. “Now I feel bad. I’m making you cry.”

At this, Elise shot back.

“No, you didn’t. I’m fine. See.”

She looked up at the ceiling dramatically for Bennett to inspect. She smiled. He still looked unsure.

“Come on. Let me drive you home. It’s cold out.”

❧❧❧

K.M. Mclain lives in Chicago, Illinois and is a graduate student at DePaul University. She has a B.A. in English & Creative Writing from the University of Iowa where she was nominated for the Iowa Review David Hamilton Prize.