Chapter 2 - Communion

 

Chapter 2. Communion

Bella

I can't help but think about Ben as I leave confession.

"It was just a kiss, Bella. You don't need to tell your sister, for Christ's sake."

I cringe. Maybe he was right.

Maybe I should have locked it all away with every other bad decision I've made over the years.

Maybe then I wouldn't be excommunicated from half my family.

As I open the heavy, wooden doors, I'm almost blinded by bright summer sunshine. It feels like I just walked through a portal from a medieval universe where there was nothing but dim lights, incense, and a bizarro priest.

I glance over my shoulder and it's not another universe. It's St. Mary's, the church my family's been going to since long before I was born. Hell, since before my parents were born. My grandparents met there over fifty years ago.

Even though I've been going there as long as I can remember, it never quite felt like it did just now. As a kid, I recited prayers and listened to bible verses. Aside from the hymns, I was usually bored out of my mind. Today I had an actual conversation in a confessional, of all places. With an actual human. Sure, I know priests are human. But no priest has ever seemed very human to me before. Or particularly interesting and intuitive. Or sarcastically funny.

It was so weird.

And intimate, kind of.

That had to be wrong. Didn't it?

It was definitely wrong. I left without saying any prayers.

My parents and grandparents wouldn't be happy to hear their priest liked Fergie. Worshipped Fergie. I smile as I try to picture it but then realize it's impossible. I have no idea what this priest looks like. And he hadn't been a priest then. No collar, just a kid with a crush. Nine years ago and he still feels guilty about it. Typical Catholic.

Anyway, I won't tell on him. I'll keep the priest's secret. I heard it in the confessional after all.

You can take the girl out of the religion, but maybe you can't take the religion out of the girl.

"Your mother said I'd find you here, but I didn't believe her."

I spin around to see my dad grinning on the sidewalk in front of me. He's on his way home from work.

"This doesn't mean I'm converting," I warn him.

Dad wraps an arm around my shoulder. "You can't convert to something you already are. Unless you want to be a double Catholic."

"Is that even a thing?"

"I think Great Aunt Sylvia on your mother's side's double Catholic."

I laugh as we set out toward home. "Mom tell you why I was at confession?"

"What makes you think she's started telling me things all of a sudden?"

Mom's always had her nose in everyone's business. Dad's more of a sit in his recliner and watch the game kind of guy.

"Good to have you home, kiddo," he says, squeezing my shoulders and kissing the top of my head. His tool belt bumps against my hip.

"Not for long," I warn.

"It doesn't have to be like that, you know. No better place for a musician than New York."

"I'm on tour, Dad. Kind of an important part of the whole music thing."

"Lots of bars to tour right here in Brooklyn."

"Bars in Brooklyn? I don't think you understand the concept of touring."

I slip out from underneath my dad's arm, struck by a sense of deja vu. Alec said almost the same exact thing to me just before I left for home.

xXxXx

"I don't think you understand touring, Bella. Stuff happens on the road. It's not real. It doesn't mean anything."

"I know." I sighed, sneaking a glance at Mike and Jessica arm in arm, deep in conversation, like they were the only two people on the planet.

The thing is, I hadn't known it wasn't real. I figured it out after Jessica showed up. Up until then, I'd been so sure.

"Listen, take these next couple weeks to get your head on straight. If not, I'm sure we can find someone to fill in for the final leg."

xXxXx

"You've got a couple of weeks to try to explain it to me," my dad says as we round the corner onto our block.

"What?" I ask, trying to focus on my dad and forget the way Mike looked past me like he was bored, like I was some lovesick fan when I told him I was leaving the tour for a while.

"Look, Mama! Look!" a little kid calls out from down the street. "It's Auntie! It's Auntie!"

Rose and Emmett's minivan is parked in front of my parent's house. Rose is very pregnant, but she's lugging kid after kid out of the backseat like it's nothing. Her littlest is jumping up and down, clutching her skirt and pointing in my direction. When Rose glances up to see which auntie her daughter's so excited about, she scowls and ducks her head back into the car.

My stomach churns. I don't know how I'll survive these two weeks, least of all use them to "get my head on straight".

"Listen," I say to my dad, patting him on the shoulder. "I'll meet you back home. I've got some important tour stuff I've got to take care of."

Important stuff like getting a drink or two under my belt. I found this very helpful after Jessica showed up on tour.

"The whole family's coming over for dinner, Bella."

It's even more reason to make a break for it, if you ask me. But when I glance into my dad's pleading eyes, I don't have the heart to completely disappoint him.

"I'll be back, Dad. Promise," I say with a kiss to his cheek.

There's only one way I'd be able to make it through this family dinner.

xXxXx

Billy's Place is exactly how I remembered it - dim lighting, dark booths, and a polished wooden bar where a few regulars are nursing their beers.

"Bella!" Jake calls. He hops over the bar and nearly crushes me in an enormous hug. "When'd you get home?" He steps back, looking me over like he can't believe it's really me.

I can't either, really, but I guess it was inevitable. He has the liquor. I have the disapproving family.

"Can I get a drink, Jake?" I ask, slipping onto a barstool.

"Are you kidding? Anything for a famous rock star."

I roll my eyes, then bum a cigarette from the guy a couple of seats down. I tuck it behind my ear, certain I'll need every excuse I can get my hands on to slip out of the house later.

Jake doesn't have to ask what I'm drinking. He slides a scotch in front of me with a smile. It's a smile most normal girls would die for - straight white teeth, dimples, and a look in his eyes like I'm the best thing he's ever seen. I prefer my men drugged out and dishonest, I guess. Jake's neither.

"What brings you back?" he asks. "Last I heard you were in Seattle. Or L.A."

I down the shot and slide the glass back in Jake's direction. "Angela," I say, which is mostly true.

"Oh, yeah! I heard she was getting married any day now." He pours me another.

"You heard right." I hold up the glass as a toast to the happy couple.

"She was in here a few weeks ago. Ben seems cool."

xXxXx

"Bella Swan! Aren't you a sight for sore eyes?!" I hear Ben's voice as we ran into each other outside the liquor store last night.

His eyes raked over me before he pulled me into a hug.

"Watch it, buddy. Aren't you marrying my little sister?" I asked, disentangling myself from his arms.

"Just missed you."

xXxXx

"I guess," I reply to Jake noncommittally. Ben and I are not cool, but Jake doesn't need to know as much.

I start sipping at my second glass of scotch. After all, I promised my dad I'd make it back for dinner.

"He said he knew you pretty well back in high school."

Back in high school Ben always knew what to say. I fell for it every single time. I fell for it last night.

"I don't know what he's talking about," I lie. To hell with slow. I pound back the rest of the shot.

"He brought up you and that dress and the talent show your senior year. Seriously unforgettable." Jake shakes his head. Oh, the memories. High school was… something.

I always pretended I was so confident and crazy back then. I pretended not to care what people said. I'm still pretending, if I'm being honest. Ben used to help me dull the pain of it all. Last night it was easy to fall back into those old habits. In the end, it only made the pain worse, for me and for the people I love.

"Could we maybe not talk about Ben?"

Jake leans on the bar, bringing his face closer to mine as he pours me another. "I was talking about you, Bella. Can't believe you're here. You look good."

I smile back at him. He looks good too. "You think your dad can handle the bar on his own for a couple of hours?"

Jake scans the room. There's all of six patrons, myself included. Although I'm not sure I count as a patron, per se. I don't plan on paying for the liquor.

"What's up?" he asks me.

"Be my date? Family dinner. My place?"

"Now?" he asks as I down my final drink.

"Can you think of a better time?"

Jake narrows his eyes. He can probably think of several better times, but he's a nice guy. He talks to his dad and a few minutes later he's got his arm around my waist as he's helping me home.

Back at my parent's house, the air smells like marinara sauce and the living room's full of kids running, jumping, crying, fighting. One of my nephews almost knocks me over, but Jake catches me as I'm falling. He's a gentleman. His hands don't even stray.

"Who's there?" my mom calls out. "Charlie, did you hear the door?"

I take Jake by the hand and pull him through the crowd of kids to the dining room. Mom's put both of the extra leaves in the table and with grandma and grandpa, each of my sisters, one husband, a fiancé, and my parents, there's hardly room to move.

"Jacob?" Mom asks. I'm not surprised she hasn't acknowledged me. "Jacob Black, is that you? You're all grown up!"

"Bella, I saved you a seat," Dad says. "Right next to the Father."

"The who?" I ask, steadying myself on the back of Alice's chair. My head's spinning a little. This should be fun. More fun than if I was sober, anyway.

"Charlie, go out to the garage and get another chair for Jacob," my mom demands.

She pulls Jake into her arms like he's a long lost son. I know what she's thinking. She's hoping that after my confession, God's taken pity on my soul and sent Jake to my rescue. A man wholesome enough to save me.

"I got it, Mom," Ben says, scrambling to his feet and leaving the room without looking back.

"It was just a kiss, Bella."

"Bella, take a seat!" my mom orders, bringing my mind back to the present.

Angela stares at me intently, so I duck my head and shuffle along the wall to find the chair Dad's saved. That's when I see the priest. One look and I stop dead in my tracks.

It's not the priest part that shocks me. Growing up, old Father Volturi would make me stand in front of the adults at the dining room table and recite the Beatitudes at least once a month.

This is not Father Volturi, though. This is the hottest priest I've ever laid eyes on.

Then it dawns on me.

He was invited here by Dad. One of his most loyal parishioners.

How much time do you have?

As much as you need. I'm having dinner with a parishioner and his family, but I'd skip it if you asked me to.

Holy shit.

He stands up and extends a hand. And his smile is practically wicked.

Priests have smiled at me my whole life. They smile like God's on their shoulder, whispering in their ear. Or they smile like they know more than I do.

They do not smile like they're openly worshipping the world around them. They do not smile like they're awestruck in an auditorium.

"You must be Bella."

And god dammit all to hell.

I have a feeling this priest probably likes Fergie.