In the Tears of My Saints

Chapter 2: The Family

Saturday: 12:33 p.m.

The sun burns irritatingly against the back of my neck as I hop up the remaining steps. I yawn and stretch. It’s too damn early for this! I am standing at the door to my brother Justin’s A-frame house, and, despite my irritation, I’m still excited. Nothing in my life is as important to me as my brothers. I guess that makes it worth it. I smile. Leaning forward, I rest my head against the hard wood as I jab the bell a few times in quick succession. It makes no sound. I knock and wait. Still, there is no response. Nice. Shaking my head in exasperation, I shrug, turn the knob and let myself in. The door opens into a spacious living room, the walls of which are completely covered in family pictures. To my right is a bluish-grey love seat. On the couch slouches my little brother, Timothy. He looks up as I enter and immediately wobbles to his feet, spreading his lanky arms to hug me. This is the way we brothers greet one another. We have done it since we were kids. He looks good today.

“Am I the first one here?”

“No,” he yawns. Must be tired too. “Jeremy, Matt, and Justin are out on the deck, the girls are in the backyard playing, and Jens in the kitchen.”

Jennifer is my sister-in-law. She is married to Justin, and they have three daughters who are pretty much the cutest children in the entire world. Perhaps I’m just biased. No, they are.

“Paul here yet—I texted him.”

Tim grins and shakes his floppy hair. “Paul’s always late. You know that.”

True. Not an attribute one would expect from such an orderly individual. I grunt and absently wonder why.

 Pushing past Tim, I head through the dining room and out the glass doors to the deck. The boys are crowded around a black grill, but as soon as my feet hit the planks, they step forward automatically. I hug them one at a time. First is Matt. He is my twin so we pretty much look the same, the most notable difference being our hair color. He has brown hair, I have blond. Blond is better. Besides that, he is a little taller than me with higher cheek bones and a pointed chin. I also like to think that his nose is a good deal larger than mine. Whatever. Next I hug Jeremy. He is the oldest of the brothers, yet surprisingly the shortest. This is especially strange when you place him next to his twin—who is about six inches taller and sixty pound heavier—Justin. I hug him last, holding him for a fraction of a second longer than the other two. I’m not completely sure why I do this. I always have. Perhaps it’s because I idolized him as a child growing up. Or perhaps I simply connected with him as a “role model”, more so than I did with Jeremy. I wonder vaguely if this makes me a bad person. Probably.

“How have you been, brother?” This comes from Matt.

I sit down lazily before responding, “Well enough, thanks. We have a new job?” This seat sucks.

He nods and flops next to me. “Yeah we do. That’s what we were talking about.”

I sit up straight at this, adjusting my position. “What is it?”

I usually prefer to get business out of the way before I relax. Although it is all I have ever known, I have never been exactly comfortable with our line of work.

Matt begins to respond but is cut off by Jeremy, “Let’s wait until Paul gets here. I don’t want to go over it a thousand times. It’s an easy job that pays a lot. We picked it up from the Old Man.”

I nod again. Old Man Dave is a dishonest gentleman we have been working on and off for as long as I can remember. He can be unnaturally cranky at times and constantly deals outside of the law. But he pays well, and his money is something I continually rely on to keep the shop open.