To You and Back

Chapter 3 The Brother

The church was cloaked in a reverent hush. Worn wooden pews stretched towards the alter draped in cloth, set with relics and glittering in the light of flickering candles. The air was redolent with the warm, woody, and slightly medicinal aroma of myrrh, and the earthy, citrusy smell of frankincense that called to mind rosemary. The only sound came from the dozen or so worshippers scattered among the pews, softly coughing, clearing throats, or shifting as they knelt in prayer. On the left, two confessional booths braced the wall. Inside the second one, the window between the compartments was drawn with a soft scrap of wood, throwing dim dappled lighting on a profile.

The shadowy figure on the side of the confessor made the sign of the cross. "Forgive me, Father," said the confessor quietly, "for I have sinned. My last confession was three months ago, and these are my sins." A pause. "I'm in love with a man."

The figure on the other side lowered his head slightly, listening.

"I know it's wrong," continued the confessor. "And especially...because he's related to me. Oh, Father, I don't know what to do, every time I see him, I just want to run and jump into his big, strong arms, and give him a great big—"

"Charlie," said the voice on the other side, in warning and exasperation.

"Just a minute, Father, I'm not done. The man is my brother, and he's so tall and handsome I—"

"Charles!"

Unable to hold back his laughter, Charlie opened the door and exited the confessional, just as another man existed the other side. He was slightly taller than Charlie, and older, but they were undeniably brothers, with the same shining yellow hair, deep blue eyes and crooked smile that was sardonic on Charlie and sincere on his brother. The other man wore the dark clothes and white collar of a priest, with his hair softly parted on the side and feathery around his ears.

"You play a dangerous game, Charlie," Michael said. "You always come so close to blaspheming."

"You should scold me, then," Charlie said, lifting his brows up and down.

"Why don't you just confess, like a normal person instead?"

"I would need to sin to do that, and we both know the perfect angel I am."

"Yeah, right," Michael said, slapping his cheek lightly, then pulling him in for a tight hug. "It's good to see you again, little brother," he said into Charlie's shoulder.

Charlie returned the hug silently.

They both knew why Charlie hadn't been around lately. Michael had never approved of Charlie's lifestyle, but he also had a soft spot for his brother, and instead of pursing the issue to contention he turned a blind eye. For the past six months Charlie had been living with someone in another city, so to keep the peace Michael had kept his distance. But after the breakup, moving into a new apartment, and getting a new job, Charlie was glad to be back in his brother's good graces.

"Do you have some time?" Charlie asked, when they parted.

"I can make some," Michael said, smiling.

"Good. Let's go to lunch, my treat. And take off your collar; I can't yell at you when you're wearing it."

"Why are you yelling at me?"

"One word," Charlie said. "Townsend."

Michael silently mouthed the word oh. "I guess it's time for my atonement."

"Dam—darn right it is."

**

They choose an outdoor bistro not far from the church, where small round tables lined the pavement, each with a red umbrella planted in the center, in the dappled noon sunlight of small trees. Scaffolding on the building shadowed the entrance to the indoor dining area, but that was compensated for by hanging it with strings of lights. A wooden barrier separating the diners from the pedestrians was overrun with vines, scenting the air with the sharpness of greenery, mingling with the sounds of other patrons and the clatter of chairs and utensils. It was one of those days—warm under the sun, and pleasantly cool in the shade.