The Art of Forgetting Read Free

Andrew said in a gruff voice. There was a timid shuffling of feet, then the resonating silence of the church. “Roy, I’ve never been good with words, and I don’t like to wear my feelings on my sleeve like a damn chevron, but I want you to know something. I want you to know that you’re the best damn brother I could have ever asked for.”
                  Roy felt a pall of guilt draping over him. “I’m the one who should say that to you.”
                  “Just hear me out. I know I haven’t always told you, but I’m proud of you. I’ve always been proud of you... even when you made us lose at stick-ball.”
                  “Which was all the time.” The men chuckled.
                  “You made me a better man,” Andrew said.
                  “After all you’ve done for me I can’t bear to hear you say that.”
                  “I thought this was a confessional. Don’t people come here to get things off their chests?”
                  “They come to be absolved of their sins,” Roy said.
                  “And you can do that?”
                  “God can do that. It’s never too late to open your heart.”
                  “It’s too late for me. But I do need to get something off my chest.”
                  “I’m listening.”
                  “It’s time to come clean with you about something, Roy. Something you should have known long ago.” Andrew rubbed his massive hands together, stopped suddenly and cracked his knuckles. “Two things we Copelands have always been able to do: hold our liquor and keep a secret.”
                  “I’m afraid I’m not so good with the liquor part,” said Roy.
                  “No, I suppose not, padre,” Andrew said with a wistful smile. The wooden bench creaked as he shifted his weight and leaned into the partition. “Now listen carefully. I can only stand to say this once.”
                  The two men sat with their heads inches from each other as Andrew spoke in a hushed tone. At one point Roy let out a gasp and recoiled. Andrew paused as his brother gazed at the darkness hanging over the floor – the priest’s eyes darting about – and resumed his soliloquy when Roy leaned heavily towards him again.
                  Andrew murmured for another minute or two. Finally, he straightened and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand as if to brush away the bitterness of the words from his lips. “Just promise, if something happens to me, you’ll take care of the bride and child.”
                  “What’s going through your mind?” Roy said between heavy breaths.
                  “Just promise me.”
                  “You know I would never abandon them.”
                  “That’s all I needed to hear.” Andrew cleared his throat and sat silently.
                  Roy felt as though he were inching towards the edge of an abyss. That he would fall into the darkness if left alone to ponder his brother’s revelation. But an even stronger fear was pulsing through his veins. There was something in Andrew’s countenance:  an eerie sense of relief, a cool resoluteness that sent a shudder down the base of Roy’s neck.
                  “Maybe I can come by the house tonight,” Roy said. He wanted to punch through the partition, to clench his brother and not let him leave.
                  “You got customers waiting,” Andrew said. “Business is good for you these days.” Andrew got to his feet. “Good-bye, Roy.”
                  “Godspeed, Andrew.”
                  When Andrew opened the oak door of the confession box, a small man wearing a tweed jacket stood outside, a crest of wild gray hair spilling over his wrinkled