Chapter 7 - Holy Order

 

Chapter 7. Holy Order

Bella

I wander into the kitchen after dinner. Alice is concentrating on loading the dishwasher. I check the fridge. No beer. I check the liquor cabinet. Not even wine. I guess we finished it off at dinner, which was much more chill than last night, partly because I didn't have to contend with Ben and Rosalie and partly because Angela was distracted by the Bridesmaid Catastrophe of 2019.

It was also partly because Mom laid off it for once. She smiled at me from across the table from time to time, even, and bragged to dad about how I'd helped out at church.

I know she thinks it's all because of her. She thinks she's saved my soul from the depths of hell by forcing me to go to confession. Of course, she's about as far off base as she could possibly get. I mean, she's right about confession improving my overall mood. She would throw me out of the house all over again if she knew the reason behind it.

Lusting after a priest is maybe not the worst thing I've ever done. But it's up there. Or down there, if I'm thinking spiritually.

As a kid, I would have thrown this ungodly fact in Mom's face just to prove she was wrong. Now I just want to keep the peace until I can get out of town. And the more I hang around the house, the more likely she is to see I'm still a tried and true sinner. Just like I've always been. Maybe a little worse.

"Hey, Alice, what are you doing after those dishes?"

"What?" Alice asks, looking up from the sink and pulling a pair of earbuds from her ears.

It occurs to me I don't have the faintest idea what kind of music she might be listening to. I wish I knew her better.

Alice is four years younger, give or take. As the baby of the family, Mom and Dad spoiled her. In return, she followed every single one of their rules, ever. And also wanted to save the planet. And every homeless person we passed on the street. It's like all of Mom's holiness was channeled into my baby sister, and she did it better than Mom and the rest of us combined.

Hanging out with Alice might actually be a little intimidating. But, hey, maybe she'll help keep me out of trouble. I can't seem to do it on my own these days.

"It's Saturday night. You want to do something?" I ask. "Maybe head to Billy's?"

Alice's eyes go wide. "Jake's bar? Me?"

"If you don't want to go to a bar we could -"

"I go to bars. Sometimes."

I raise an eyebrow. "Sure you do, Alice."

"I went to one with Angela and Lauren for my birthday. It's not exactly my thing. They're so dark and noisy." Alice scrunches up her nose in disgust.

"We could do something else. What do you usually do for fun on a Saturday?"

"Well, I, uh-" Alice wrings her hands and can't quite look me in the eye.

"Is it a secret?"

"No, it's just, I, uh-"

"Oh my God. Spit it out. Do you mine bit coin in your bedroom? Are you an online dominatrix?"

The color drains from Alice's face. "I go to mass, okay?"

"Church? On Saturday? Don't you go on Sunday with the family?"

She shrugs her shoulders.

"We just spent the entire morning at church. Live a little. Let me corrupt you just the tiniest bit. And maybe you'll rub off on me so I stop screwing up everyone's life?"

Alice laughs and dries her hands off on a dish towel. "Don't be so dramatic. You haven't screwed up my life."

I arch an eyebrow. "Don't tempt me."

"And I don't think I have anything to wear to a bar."

"Leave that to me, sister."

It's fun dressing Alice up in stuff I have lying around from tour. With a clingy sweater, a short skirt, and a cute pair of boots, she looks her age for once. I let her pick the music as I doll her up. Turns out she's a Taylor Swift kind of girl. She sings along to 1989 as I teach her how to apply the perfect cat eye eyeliner and how to contour to accentuate her pretty bone structure.

"You look fierce," I decide, proud of my handiwork.

"I don't know, Bella. Are you sure?" she asks, looking herself over in the mirror.

"I may be a sinner, but I'm no liar. Wait 'til the boys at Billy's get a look at you."

Alice is still a little unsure about the whole idea as we walk into Billy's Place. She's got her arms folded across her chest, and she's wearing a jacket baggy enough to double as a cloak.

"You have nothing to worry about," I try to reassure her as we step up to the bar. "Jake's like family. He'd never let anything happen to you."

As if on cue, Jake is suddenly in front of us, smiling from ear to ear. "It's the two prettiest ladies in all of Sheepshead Bay," he says, sliding a glass in front of me.

"What can I get you?" he asks Alice.

"What about Bella?"

"He knows what I'm having," I reply, tipping my empty glass toward Jake.

"That I do," he says with a wink, then turns around and reaches for the topmost shelf.

"Woah, woah, woah!" I shout, pulling my glass out of the way before he can fill it with Macallan. "We both know I can't afford this."

Jake leans across the bar in my direction and flashes me his winning smile. "It's my treat since you said you'd be my date."

"What date?" Alice asks.

"You know, Jake, if you pay me, it turns it into a whole other kind of date."

He looks a little ruffled as he pours me a finger. "You'll find a way to pay me back."

"And if you're implying what I think you're implying, you're still in that other kind of date category."

Jake rolls his eyes but places the Macallan back on the top shelf. He returns with Johnny Walker Gold. "Better?" he asks.

"I can live with that."

"Still on? Still a date?" he asks hopefully.

I nod and sip at my scotch. It goes down warm and smooth. My limbs feel looser, like all the tension of the past few days is just sliding away. I find myself smiling up at Jake. I know I'm mostly smiling because of the scotch. I should be smiling because Jake knows what I like and wants to take care of me. "Still a date."

"Ahem." Alice clears her throat.

Jake and I both jump a little.

"Alice, sorry. What's your poison? Cosmo? Chardonnay?" Jake asks.

Alice hops up on a barstool and looks back and forth between Jake and I with this huge grin on her face. "I'll have what Bella's having."

"Really?" he asks.

Alice shrugs. "Why not?"

"You heard the woman, Jake."

"That I did." He slides another glass of scotch in Alice's direction, then gets us both two glasses of water, like this is a classy kind of joint.

"You should probably -"

Alice slams back the drink and immediately starts coughing.

"- take it slow." I finish saying.

My little sister looks like her head's going to explode. She's all red, and her eyes are watering, and I think she's broken out in a sweat. She chugs the water, then shakes her head.

"You actually like that?" she asks when she manages to catch her breath.

xXxXx

"So, you and Jake?" Alice asks, once we're settled at a booth in the back and I've coaxed Alice out of her giant jacket.

I shrug. "Maybe?"

"Yeah, right. Do bartenders always hand out whole bottles of liquor to their patrons?" she asks, pushing the bottle of scotch in my direction.

"Maybe?" I try again.

Alice laughs at me and pours herself another drink. A double, strictly speaking.

"Kind of feels warm all the way down to my toes," she says with a shudder, trying to cover up the coughing this time around.

"What's gotten into you?" I ask.

I pray the answer isn't me.

I don't really pray.

But then, on second thought, I give it a shot.

Dear God, Please don't let me be the only reason my little sister's getting drunk off her ass.

"Well," Alice says, then takes another gulp of her drink. Then another. "It's been really tense around the house."

I let out a sigh of relief. It's not me. "What's new, right? I don't know how you and Angela have made it this long."

Alice shakes her head. "No, this feels different. Something's up with Angela. I mean, I know the wedding's stressful. But there's something else, I think. No one will tell me."

I pour myself another shot and drink it down.

Of course it's my fault. As always.

I guess it would be out of character for God to start answering my prayers all of the sudden.

"You think Ben's good for Angela?" I ask. I can't be the only one who sees this marriage looks doomed, can I?

"Oh my God, Angela loves Ben," Alice says with a dreamy look in her eyes. "Ever since high school. All through college."

"But why?"

"Can you help who you love?" Alice asks earnestly.

And suddenly I'm back on the road on Mike's bus and we're naked for the first time and he holds my face in his hands and tells me how he's wanted it from the first time he saw me. And I tell him I love him. The words just spill out in this haze of lust, gratitude, and too much tequila. And he hears my confession and kisses me like he means it and pushes himself inside.

I told myself it meant he loved me too.

"I wish," I say, with a look toward the bar.

Jake catches my eye and grins. Why won't my heart do what's best? I only feel guilt as I wave back at him, defeated by my own rebellious emotions.

Alice pounds back another glass of scotch and wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. She's holding onto the booth, probably so she doesn't topple onto the floor. Kiddo's drinking me under the table tonight.

"So, um, Bella, you ever have anything you can't tell anyone?" she asks me out of the blue.

"Ha! Like every single day of my life."

"No, no, no." She shakes her head vehemently and holds out a finger. "Like one particular thing. Something that could change everything in your whole world. Something that would make your whole family hate you?"

"Alice, there's absolutely nothing you could do to make Mom and Dad hate you. That's crazy."

All of the sudden, Alice is blinking quickly, like she's trying to hold back tears. I grab her hand from across the table. "There's nothing you could do to make me hate you. You know that, right?"

She smiles a little and wipes at her eyes. "Thanks. It means a lot." Her nose is running, and she starts rummaging through her pockets. I steal a clean napkin from the table next to us and slide it across to Alice.

"Now stop it," I tell her. "I'm the bad kid. I'm the one everyone hates."

"I know!" Alice wails. Then starts crying for real. Sobbing, shoulders shaking, her mascara sliding down her wet cheeks.

At first, I'm not really sure what to do. My little sister drank half a bottle of scotch and is drowning in a puddle of her own tears. I slip out of the booth and walk around to her side, then awkwardly take her into my arms. I shush her like I've seen Rose shush her babies. It seems to work with Alice too. She collapses against me and lets me hold her.

When her sobs have turned more to hiccups, I pat her back, push her hair behind her ears, and wipe the mascara from her face.

"I let you take grief from everyone instead of me," she says, which makes no sense at all. "I'm really sorry, Bella. It's not fair. I'm not brave like you are."

I laugh, and Alice is looking at me so sad and serious I laugh some more. "I'm not brave, Alice. I'm reckless. I'm inconsiderate and I make every wrong choice possible."

"But you make a choice and you see it through." She stares at her hands in her lap. "Not me," she whispers.

"Did you secretly fail out of college?"

"No! 4.0 GPA."

"Are you slowly poisoning Mom?"

Alice frowns up at me. "I like Mom."

"Did Ben kiss you too?"

"What?"

"Never mind," I say quickly.

"Is it okay if I don't say?" she asks. "I thought maybe tonight, but I don't know if this is the right time or place, really."

I look around the crowded neighborhood bar. It's noisy enough that no one can hear us. Crowded enough that no one's paying any attention. "It's definitely dark and dank. Billy's is kind of perfect as a confessional."

"I don't know," Alice says, glancing around her like she's seeing my old hangout through new, drunken eyes.

"I can't believe I'm saying this, but have you thought about telling Father Edward?" I suggest. "He's pretty good with this kind of thing."

Alice smiles at me. It's a real smile, so wide it takes up her whole face. Not that sad kind of smile she was sporting a minute ago. She sighs. "I did, actually."

I don't know why I'm surprised. Alice is on St. Mary's like white on rice. And I don't know why I'm a little… jealous? Maybe?

Yes, I'm jealous Father Edward and Alice have secrets of their own. Even though I know it's his job. He keeps people's confidence. And he makes people smile.

"Did it help?" I ask, although I have a sneaking suspicion I know the answer.

"He told me it's complicated. And he told me he didn't have a good answer."

I nod. "Sounds like him."

"But he also told me what he personally thinks about it all. It helped even though it didn't help. Does that make any sense?"

"He's hot, right?"

"Bella!" Alice nearly shouts.

"Oh, come on. Don't 'Bella' me. Dude's smokin'."

"I never really thought of him that way."

Of course she hasn't. Hello. The guy's a priest and Alice is the most religious twenty-one year old in Brooklyn.

I take a sip of my scotch as I'm thinking it over.

"Which dude?"

And spit the drink out all over the table.

Father Edward and another priest are standing next to our booth, each with a half-empty pint in their hands. Father's grinning and, you guessed it, he's totally, undeniably hot. He's got his collar on, which makes it so much worse… and better.

Shit.

Alice didn't save me tonight.

I'm still going to hell.

"Come on, tell me, I can keep a secret." Father Edward looks between me and Alice. Then he flashes those God-forsaken, hazel eyes in my direction.

And fuck.

Alice's face is beet red. I know she can't tell a lie, so I have to think fast.

"This isn't confessional, Father," I remind him.

"I hope not. I don't usually drink in the confessional." Father Edward laughs. The other one, not so much.

Alice coughs. I think her eyes are going to bug out of her head.

"How was mass tonight, Father?" she asks. "Sorry I missed it."

"Oh, you know, same old same old." He laughs like he's nervous.

What is wrong with him?

"It was better than that," the other priest says. "The parable about spreading God's seed was a good reminder for us all."

"Spreading seed?" I ask, inadvertently eyeing Father Edward's pants. The ones equipped to give his parishioners what they need. When they need it.

The good Father nearly chokes on his beer.

The other priest pats him on the back. "Do you know the Gospel according to Mark?" he asks me. Like he just assumes I'm a bible scholar. Or really into seeds.

Alice giggles and it turns into a hiccup.

I laugh out loud. "Who's your friend?" I ask the Father, all the while wondering how I ended up in an alternate universe where I'm just hanging with two priests on a Saturday night.

"Sorry, this is Bishop Whitlock. He oversees our diocese."

My little sister hiccups again and Father Edward looks at her curiously.

"Alice, are you drunk?" he asks.

"Forgive me, Father," I say in a breathy impersonation of a penitent parishioner. "I got my sister wasted."

"Like you said, Bella-" He's staring at me like I'm the only person in this bar. "This isn't confessional."

And whew boy, I can't look away. He's trapped me with his eyes. "No, it certainly isn't," I manage to reply. Barely.

"Well, now that that's settled," the bishop says with a laugh. "You mind if we sit?"

Alice looks like she might pass out. I think maybe this is all she's ever wanted, but the last thing in the world she wants, all at the same time.

"Alice?" I ask. I nod my head toward the holy men. "Your call."

"No, um, I, well -"

"We can find another table," Father Edward says. He pats the bishop on the back, like he's telling him they should move on. Of course he's polite. Stupid, hot, polite priest.

"Please stay?" I ask, a little louder than I intended. The priests turn back toward our booth. Father Edward smiles. I die a little inside.

I raise my glass. "It's not every day I get to drink with two men of the cloth." It's my attempt to play it cool.

"No, it's usually just one," Father Edward says, slipping into the booth across from me.

"Don't get ahead of yourself with the 'usually', buddy. It's only been the last couple days."

"Feels much longer," he says quietly. Just to me.

I'm not actually sure he meant to say those last few words out loud, but he's right. It's strange, but I kind of feel like I've known him forever.

For a minute, it feels like it's just us here. My face warms, my foot taps. Then, just like that, his holy friend breaks the connection by clearing his throat.

"Edward, perhaps you should introduce me to your parishioners?"

Father Edward sits up a little straighter. He rubs at the back of his neck and almost acts like a regular priest for a minute. Like this is any other day in the life of Father Edward. In a bar. With a pint.

Nice try, Father.

"You remember Charles Swan, right? he asks.

"Ah, yes," the bishop says. "Good man."

He's right. Dad's the best. I smile in approval at Bishop Whitlock.

"These are two of his daughters," Father Edward says. "Alice and Bella."

"So, you two hang out like this often?" I ask, before taking a sip of my scotch.

And I've gone from sounding like I was trying to pick up one priest at a family dinner, to trying to pick up two in a bar. Christ Almighty.

"Oh, we go way back," the bishop says with a smile, eyeing the sex on a stick seated next to him.

I wonder just how far.

Fergie far?

Farther?

"I know Bishop Whitlock from before..." Father Edward taps his white collar.

"How do you feel about The Black Eyed Peas, Bishop Whitlock?" I ask.

And now it's Father Edward who's spitting out his drink.

"Who?" the bishop replies.

So, post-Fergie, pre-priest, maybe? Or maybe it's something he never told Bishop Whitlock. Maybe it's a sin he's only shared with me?

"What was he like back then?" I ask the bishop as Father Edward grabs a napkin and wipes the alcohol from the table.

"In a word? Trouble."

Alice laughs, Bishop Whitlock laughs. I'm not laughing. I'm imagining what it would have been like to get into trouble with him. And Father Edward is…

Is he blushing?

"What brand of trouble?" I ask the bishop, but I only have eyes for Father Edward. He's definitely blushing. He tries to hide it by taking a long swig of his beer. The whole beer.

"Bella," Alice says, and she kind of breaks the spell the Father has over me. Again. It keeps on happening.

"Yeah?"

"Isn't it kind of late? I have church in the morning."

"So do they," I say, nodding toward the men across from us. I could sit here all night. We could talk about sins. Mine. His. He could lay bible verses on me until the early morning hours.

"Good point actually," Father Edward says as he sets his empty pint glass down. "I can always count on Alice to keep me on the straight and narrow." He gives her a friendly smile.

That strange jealous feeling rears its head again. He has a relationship with my sister I'll never have. Not like I want to have a crazy connection to the Catholic church, mind you. Until yesterday, I hadn't stepped into a church in years.

I just wish… I wish I was different and he was different. Maybe.

"Will you also be joining us tomorrow, Bella?" Father Edward asks.

"Absolutely," I reply without hesitation, surprising myself. "I really want to hear what you have to say."

And it's the honest to God truth.

Don't get me wrong. I'm still going to hell.