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“That was my son,” he raises his voice, garnering the attention of those nearby. “I had to hear about it in the paper. Do you know what that’s like?” he asks, unaware of the parallel between us making my body tight, like the stretch of a rubber band about to break.
“You don’t have a son,” Rausch interrupts, motioning for security, who are quick to arrive.
“Where have you been?” Rausch yells at the security guard. “Do your fucking job.”
Rausch turns toward me and it’s the first time I see sympathy in his eyes towards me. It’s clear he knows who this man is, and a part of me is jealous that my father confided in him and not me, his son.
“You have no right,” the man yells while security hauls him away. “I know who you are!”
Rausch lets out a deep breath, his eyes narrowed and his lips pursed in anger, but for once, it’s not directed at me. I stare after the man I’ve never known to be my grandfather.
“What the fuck was that?” I ask.
Rausch pinches his forehead as if he’s willing a headache to go away. “Not here,” he says wearily, and then walks away. I’m unwilling to chase after him, and he’s right, this isn’t the place.
Up ahead, Alistair and his parents enter the church, and as Evangeline and I walk up the steps to the Cathedral, the press take pictures, shout my name, and one reporter asks who I’m with like this is a fucking movie premier.
“My wife,” I growl back in anger, and we walk through the doors of the church. The pews on either side are full of people; people I don’t know.
“Darren,” Caroline, Alistair's mother, pulls me into a hug and gives me a kiss on the cheek. She pulls away but holds onto me as if checking to make sure I’m still intact. “I’m so sorry for your loss. Merrill was…” she pauses, choked up, unable to finish.
I look over her shoulder to where Alistair stands, and I can feel the history between our parents that started all the way back at Holy Trinity Preschool.
I take her hand politely – lovingly. “Thank you.” I mean it sincerely.
“It’s just awful. Isn’t it awful Remington?” She turns to her husband, tears in her eyes. Remington hands her a handkerchief, and then holds out a hand to me.
“Anything you need, kid.” He gives my hand a manly shake, and I give him a tight nod in return.
Alistair gives me an apologetic smile.
“Did I hear you say wife?” Caroline asks with wide eyes, as if just now remembering, and looks over at Evangeline.
I place a hand at her back. “This is Evangeline.”
“Nice to meet you,” Evangeline greets, and holds her hand out for Caroline. It takes Caroline a minute to react, unsure of who she is, this newcomer into our inner circle.
“Well,” she smiles, and pulls her into a hug, “you’re a beautiful girl,” I hear her say into Evangeline’s hair. “You’ll come over for dinner?” She looks at both of us expectantly, and I nod politely, not having any intention of going to their house in the near future.
Still shaken from the altercation outside, I excuse us to head further into the church so we can take our seats.
The minute I step into the nave, I can feel the magnitude of being inside such a building. Even though I am not a God-fearing man, tradition and history are hard to escape. Although the last brick was laid in nineteen-ninety, this church has seen more history than most. the limestone floors have collected the tears, laughter, hushed promises, and desperate prayers of millions of people… and now it will collect mine.
I tilt my head ever so slightly to look at Evangeline, feel her hand in mine once again, and wonder if she feels what I feel… that something old and ancient, not quite spiritual, has taken form.
Church officials direct us to the front of the nave where a pew is reserved for immediate family, and I can’t help but notice how empty it is. My mother was an only child, and both of her parents passed years ago. The only family my father had besides me or his estranged brothers was just escorted away from the church.
We slide into the pew, and Evangeline loosens the belt on her jacket, shucking it off and laying it over her lap. She’s wearing a black dress with a collar that sits at her neck and a hem that goes almost to her knees.
“Why did you say that?” she whispers.
“Say what?”
“To the press.”
I don’t get a chance to respond because Rausch and a few of my father’s staff slide into the pew next to us. I suppose these people were his family, because he spent more time with them than he did at home with me.
Rausch makes an indignant noise as he fusses with his wool jacket and places it on the pew between himself and Evangeline.
