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Back The Third Brother Save as PDF
Chapters (116)
  1. Cover
  2. Also by the Author
  3. The Third Brother
  4. Copyright
  5. Dedication
  6. PART I
  7. 1
  8. 2
  9. 3
  10. 4
  11. 5
  12. 6
  13. 7
  14. 8
  15. 9
  16. 10
  17. 11
  18. 12
  19. 13
  20. 14
  21. 15
  22. 16
  23. 17
  24. 18
  25. 19
  26. 20
  27. 21
  28. 22
  29. 23
  30. 24
  31. 25
  32. 26
  33. 27
  34. 28
  35. 29
  36. 30
  37. 31
  38. 32
  39. 33
  40. 34
  41. 35
  42. 36
  43. 37
  44. 38
  45. 39
  46. 40
  47. 41
  48. 42
  49. 43
  50. 44
  51. 45
  52. 46
  53. 47
  54. 48
  55. 49
  56. 50
  57. 51
  58. 52
  59. 53
  60. 54
  61. 55
  62. 56
  63. 57
  64. 58
  65. 59
  66. PART II
  67. 60
  68. 61
  69. 62
  70. 63
  71. 64
  72. 65
  73. 66
  74. 67
  75. 68
  76. 69
  77. 70
  78. 71
  79. 72
  80. 73
  81. 74
  82. 75
  83. 76
  84. 77
  85. 78
  86. 79
  87. 80
  88. 81
  89. 82
  90. 83
  91. 84
  92. 85
  93. 86
  94. 87
  95. 88
  96. PART III
  97. 89
  98. 90
  99. 91
  100. 92
  101. 93
  102. 94
  103. 95
  104. 96
  105. 97
  106. 98
  107. 99
  108. 100
  109. 101
  110. 102
  111. 103
  112. 104
  113. 105
  114. 106
  115. 107
  116. 108

It was so beautiful I had to leave.

97

I should not have been so abrupt with Analect. I regret it now. I wish I had been more thoughtful. Elliot Analect wanted to make everything right. He wanted to tie up loose ends. He wanted to be decent, check in on his friend’s orphaned child. He was trying to be thoughtful. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.

98

I went to a holiday church service. I thought I might see the archaeology girl. I thought we might run into each other on the wide, snowy steps, and she would see that I am not crazy. She would hear my singing as we all stood and sang. She would see the attention I paid, the care that beamed from my eyes for things sacred. On the way out I would apologize. Maybe something would happen.

I didn’t go just for her. She wouldn’t like me if I did. I went because I have always liked churches. This one is simple. New England, white, cushioned pews. Famous people give talks there. The Dalai Lama. The president of the university. Famous writers. People of note.

This turned out to be a fancy annual service. I had no idea. Upstanding young men in tuxedos handed out programs on heavy paper as you walked in. The chaplain stood up in the pulpit and I remember he read some of the nativity, and then gave his talk, whatever it was. There was singing after. It was a pleasant service in a dimly lit church. I didn’t listen to what the chaplain talked about.

I wish I could remember. I haven’t been remembering things so well. I meant to tell you earlier, but it seemed fake. A shrink I saw in New York told me he thought my condition was suggestive. That is, I think I’m forgetting things; therefore I make myself forget things. For example, I made an appointment to follow up with the shrink, but I forgot when we scheduled it. I genuinely forgot, but he said it was an example of the suggestion. After that, I was too embarrassed to go back.

There were some professors at the service. A few of the old ones are religious, practicing. Most of the ones I saw had no religion but liked to have an evening in the church. I suppose that’s what I was after too, even if I can’t remember what the service was about. I’m not religious, but I believe in something.

I’m spiritual.