"Or what? You’ll slap me again?"
"No, this time I’ll rip your head off, and then I’ll play soccer with it," I hiss and, even though my words seem kind of an exaggeration, I really mean them. There’s a beautiful sword hanging over my father’s office door, and the blade looks very sharp… Ah, Earl’s definitely lucky I’m not some kind of murderous psychopath, or else I’d be putting that sword to good use.
"Oh, I’m so scared," he laughs, throwing his hands up in the air in a mocking gesture. "Pfft … seriously, Clarise, do you really think dad’s going to go forward with this shipping nonsense?"
"What are you talking about? You were there at the meeting, three months ago, and I believe dad told you how things would play out. Besides, Connor sided with him, so I don’t see how you’ll stop dad from moving into shipping."
"Oh, Connor sided with dad… So fucking what? Am I supposed to be pissing my pants because that fake priest is messing with dad’s head?" Scoffing again, he runs one hand through his hair and gives me one of his gruesome grins. Then, he lifts the flask up again, but then lowers it as he realizes that it’s empty.
"They’re going to announce it at the next board meeting. So, unless you plan to murder someone in the family, there’s nothing you can do," I say, already losing my patience. Why the hell is he jabbing at me like this? Does he know something that I don’t?
"Don’t be so sure ‘bout that, little ‘sis," he whispers, taking a few strides toward me. Looking down, he then leans in, the alcohol on his breath making me wince. "I don’t like to lose, you know? And I sure as hell won’t lose to Connor."
"Get the fuck out of my face," I growl, placing my hands on his chest and giving him one hard push. He stumbles back awkwardly and, for a moment, I almost think he’s going to fall down; instead, he reaches for the doorway and manages to remain standing up.
That grin remains on his face, though, and that’s what worries me the most. What does he have on Connor to feel so smug? What kind of game is Earl playing right now? I have no idea, but one thing’s for sure, I must talk with Connor right away.
"Where are you going? Meeting your boyfriend?" Earl shouts after me as I hurry past him, bumping my shoulder against his. "TELL HIM I SEND MY REGARDS!" he shouts louder again, and his voice echoes through the empty hallway as I hurry down the stairway.
"Have you seen Connor?" I ask one of the drivers outside, standing n
ext to the limo as he smokes a cigarette. As he sees me get out of the house, he throws the cigarette onto the ground and crushes it under his foot.
"No, ma’am. I haven’t seen him all day," he responds, taking his hat off and clutching it to his chest. "Have you tried the chapel? I’ve seen him around there a lot lately."
"The chapel…" I whisper to myself, turning my head toward the building flanking Connor’s guest house. His car is parked in front of the house, so he should be around. "Thank you," I tell the driver with a quick nod, and then I start making my way down the cobbled road that leads to both the guest house and the chapel, my heels clicking anxiously against the ground.
Just to make sure, I stop in front of his house and knock, rapping my knuckles against the frame of the door. "Connor!" I call, but silence is my only response. "Crap!" I mutter, and then hurry down to the chapel.
The two double doors are closed, but as I reach for the handle and turn, one of them swings back. The shadows loom large inside the chapel, and that familiar silence wraps itself around me like a long lost friend. Careful to not disturb that silence, I start walking down the small aisle, looking from one side to the other in the hopes of seeing Connor.
But, no, he doesn’t seem to be anywhere.
And that’s when I see him; he’s kneeling just to the side of the altar, inside the large confessionary that was set up there. He’s whispering so softly that I can’t make out his words, but it seems like he’s confessing his sins. Which is kinda weird, we don’t have a ‘round-the-clock pastor, so who the hell is he confessing to?
He has his back turned to me, and it seems like he didn’t hear me walk in. As such, I walk silently toward him, and then I stop as I realize that he’s completely alone. There’s no one on the other side of the confessionary…
He’s confessing to himself. We’re alone in the chapel, again.
Well, you know what?
It’s been too long since I last confessed my sins. Maybe it’s time I fix that.
24
Connor
"Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned…" I whisper, but the only answer I get is the echo of my own words. "I screwed up… I really did," I continue to whisper, closing my eyes and laying my forehead over my folded hands. I’m kneeling inside the confessionary and, even though there’s no one in here with me, it still feels good to let it all out.
I believe in confession; I think it does a man good to air out his sins and let some sunshine into his soul. But I never believed in confessing to another man; my sins are between me and God, and I don’t like to share them with a third party. Despite what some people might say, I don’t think that when it comes to your relationship with God, you need a middleman.
And that’s exactly why I’m alone right now.
That’s also what I need—to be alone. Ever since I got here I’ve been making mistake after mistake. How could I have let things progress to such a state? I’ve fucked Clarise in a chapel and in a church. How can I even call myself a man of God? I’ve crossed a line and, more than anything else, I’m disappointed with myself.
This is why I’m confessing; I’ve spent three months repressing all these feelings, but I just can’t do it anymore. No, these feelings are gripping my heart so tightly that I can’t even think straight. I had to let it all out, even if the only way to do it was to confess to an empty wall.
I thought I was stronger… I thought I was the kind of man to whom temptation meant nothing. But, of course, I had never met a woman like Clarise. How was I even supposed to resist her advances? I might be a spiritual guy, but I sure as hell am not holy.