AllFreeNovel
Share Us
If George could be cured of his raging guilt, workaholism, and cruel cynicism, maybe anyone could be cured of their faults.
MaybeIcould be cured.
I took another deep breath, willing my heart to slow.
Hot blood pumped in my neck, rocking my whole body. Every thick beat of my heart warned me this was a bad idea.
Mis-take. Mis-take. Mis-take.
George’s eyes met mine with a stern gaze, but he withheld further judgement. He simply stepped toward me and re-pinned my boutonniere straighter. He brushed a stray bit of lint off my shoulder, appraising my blue suit with a vague smile and a warmthin his eyes I rarely got to see. “You look good as a layperson. I’m going to miss this.”
I didn’t buy a new suit.
It’d been so long since I’d worn this one—navy blue with the faintest ghost of a silvery plaid—since I’d entered seminary. There, I wore the long, black, close-fitting anderí everywhere from classes to church services, even to the movies.
Most Orthodox clergy in America chose to forego the long robes in favor of the traditional Catholic look of a black suit and Roman collar.
Once ordained, I’d likely never wear this suit again. Nor the burnished cognac leather shoes, or the baby blue broadcloth, or the mossy springtime, yellowy-sage paisley silk tie. That was new. I’d splurged on color.
From here on out, my life would be black.
“You won’t miss anything,” I lied to my brother. And to myself. I’d definitely miss the color. “Besides Ma, you’re the one person who knows the real me. I can’t play the spiritual father role with you. You’ve seen me at my worst. And you’ve always been better than me, man. I came to the church seeking forgiveness. You never needed it.”
“Shut up, Gus. Everyone needs forgiveness for something.”
“No, listen.” I sighed. “I know I’m not that person anymore, the kid who wrecked everything in his path. But, after this, I don’t want things to change between us. I still want to think of you as my big brother. The true calm in the storm. I need you to be the place where I don’t have to wear the church’s authority cloaked around my shoulders. Where I can be my lowly human self, because you will offer comfort and protection. You won’t list my sins for me or remind me that the only place I can fall is down.”
“You’re forgetting something.”
“What?”
“Decca.”
I closed my eyes.Decca.The woman presumably in black instead of white and presumably having her own freak out in the Narthex right now, holding a bouquet of some goth flower—lilies probably, plucked from some dead guy’s discarded casket spray.
From the altar, the chanter began intoning the wedding song.
The hymn of the Virgin Mary was my only request. It wasn’t frequently sung, and the melody was so haunting, my ears never seemed to stop craving it. That was my cue.
George checked his watch. “You ready? Or do you want to freak out some more?”
I hugged my brother tightly. In a decade-long twist of fate, I owed him my life and happiness, and I was overwhelmingly blessed he was here with me today as my koumbaro and best man.
We stepped from behind the iconostasis to see Father Vasili wiping tears from his eyes.
Oh, fuck. This was really happening.
Ma, Yia-Yiá, and Pappou sat in the first pew on the right side, with a few of my first cousins behind them. Waylon sat with Bethany’s daughter Sofia, holding baby Athena in her arms, representing Decca’s side on the left.
Everyone wore black. Even the baby had a long, black lace gown and cradle cap, in honor of the bride.
Bethany sauntered up the aisle first, followed by my sister, whose face was ghostly white and bedewed with sweat. Soula hated attention so much she’d postponed her own wedding twice already. But she stood up today. For Decca and for me.
Decca didn’t want attendants—I suspected it was to save Soula the abject terror of being in front of an audience, even as a side character—but Greek Orthodox wedding ceremonies were rigidand long, and they always ran smoother with a few extra sets of hands.
At the end of it, George would place the delicate gold crowns on our heads and take our first steps behind us, sanctioning our union and our martyrdom to each other. Other churches had vows. We hadstefana. Promises weren’t enough. She was supposed to give up everything for me. As I would for her.
The weight of it hit me hard as my body stiffened into rock. Could we get there? A true union of souls?
