The shabbat should have given him plenty of time to do that, but he’d been tense through services and had only just barely managed polite conversation with the rabbi who was excited to have him there. “If you’re looking for a position,” the man had started, but Jude offered him a polite, firm shake of his head. He knew the man—Paul Goldberg. He’d been down in Port St. Lucie a few times and had even visited Jude’s synagogue.
It was only natural that the man try to find him a position, but the moment the question fell from his lips, Jude’s decision felt reaffirmed.
“I think I want to write a book,” he said, the words surprising even him, though it was something he’d been thinking about.
The rabbi looked a little surprised, but his mouth formed into a small grin. “That sounds fantastic. What about?”
Jude wasn’t sure yet, but he’d lived a lot of life, and he knew that there were others who were on a path similar to his own that still couldn’t reconcile what it meant to be a person of faith and of passion and of love and of rebellion. And even if he couldn’t give them advice, maybe he could give them something to relate to. He knew it would have mattered to him, especially when he was younger, and more lost, and more angry.
“I’m still working on it, but I’ll keep you posted,” he said.
They shook hands, then Jude made his way over to where Eliah was waiting for him. The sun always felt a little brighter, the air a little freer after services. He took a deep breath, then smiled at his brother. “Thanks for coming with me. I know you hate this.”
Eliah scoffed as he led the way down the sidewalk, and Jude realized they weren’t heading toward the car, but he didn’t question him. “I actually try to go once a month—if I can. I’m not…” He hesitated, then shrugged. “Just because I don’t necessarily believe in God doesn’t mean I don’t find all of this important, Yehuda.”
He felt the chastisement, knowing he deserved it. “I just never wanted you to think that I thought…I dunno.” He let out a frustrated breath. “That in order to connect with me, you had to do all this as well.”
“You never made me feel like that,” Eliah admitted quietly.
Jude felt a little stunned and even fell behind a step before he hurried to catch up. He hadn’t realized that at all. He assumed the reason Eliah had stayed away as much as he did was because their paths had diverged so profoundly. “I guess I did something right, then.”
Stopping, Eliah turned to him and gave him a stern look. “Enough, Yehuda. You have to stop punishing yourself. You were always a good brother. Bloody hell I…” He grimaced and turned his face away. “I wouldn’t have survived my recovery without you. Mum and dad were,” he hesitated, and Jude knew why. His parents adored their sons, but they hadn’t known what to do with Eliah after he was hurt. They were afraid to lose him, and that made them a little bit afraid to openly love him. “I don’t blame them either,” he said, not finishing his other sentence. “But you were there for me in ways no one else was, and that matters.”
Jude closed his eyes for a long second. “Where are we going?” he finally asked.
Eliah barked a laugh. “Lunch. I’m absolutely starving, and you can cheat a little for me.”
Jude felt no real measure of guilt as he followed his brother to a little café and ate the food he ordered. He grimaced at the iced tea, which he found impossibly saccharine sweet in the South, but it was starting to grow on him. A little. In any case, it combated the growing heat and humidity that surrounded them as they sat at the little outside table.
He adored the little historic area of the city—the hustle and bustle of the crowds. He liked all the shops and the ancient cobblestone streets, and sometimes he swore he could feel the alternating heat and chill of spirits who had long-since passed. And it helped that Eliah loved this city even more than he did, and watching his brother’s face settle into absolute contentment felt like a gift.
“Do you think you’ll stay?” Eliah asked, dragging Jude out of his thoughts.
He opened his mouth to answer, but just then, several bikers rolled by. Jude didn’t recognize the images on the backs of their jackets, but the look of them made his heart beat a little harder. None of them looked twice at the brothers, but when Jude glanced at Eliah, he saw the same trepidation on his face.
“I’m always looking for him,” Eliah admitted quietly. “A couple of times, I dreamt that I’m waking up, and he’s there.”
“Have you talked to Aaron about it?”
Eliah shook his head, pushing his fork through what was left of his salad. “I should, I know. He’d understand probably better than anyone, but I can’t lay that burden on him right now.”
“He might want to help carry it,” Jude pointed out, but he knew he was being a little bit of a hypocrite. He didn’t have nightmares about that night, but he had strange dreams he knew were from the trauma of it. And sometimes, in the middle of the day, he’d blink and see Hydra there. Sometimes, if he was half-dozing on the sofa, he’d wake up to a phantom gunshot. He looked at his brother again. “How are you?”
He saw Eliah feel the weight of his question. Not the three simple words anyone else might have heard, and it was why he switched to Hebrew. “Sometimes it feels like a dream, and sometimes it’s so real, it’s almost like I’m firing the gun all over again. I’m terrified that I have that in me.”
“You saved my life. And Emilio’s. And he walked away from it,” Jude said.
Eliah’s eyes went hard. “I know. And sometimes I wish he hadn’t, because we wouldn’t be sitting here terrified every time a motorbike rolls by.”
Jude knew what he was saying. He knew that Eliah wouldn’t have been able to live with himself the way the others did if he’d managed to put the man in the ground. But now he knew first-hand what it felt like to live in that sort of fear.
“It’ll end. Eventually.” Jude dragged his finger through the condensation in his glass. “One way or another.”
Eliah leaned on his elbow and stared at him. “You never did answer my question. Are you staying?”
Jude shrugged. “Yes, I think I am. I think I’m going to write books about being a rabbi who buckled under the weight of what it means to be a man of faith. And I think I might try to find a hobby, because I spent the part of my life that I was supposed to use finding myself running from my guilt over what happened to you.”
“Yehuda,” Eliah began, but he held up his hand.
“That was my own fault, and maybe Mum and Dad for not taking us to therapy to deal with the trauma of what your accident put us through,” he said, but he was smiling a little. “Either way, there’s time to make up for it.”
“And you’re happy?” Eliah asked.
Jude couldn’t help his laugh, and he shrugged. “I’m in love with him. I think that makes me some strange mixture of happy and miserable all at once.”
Eliah’s smile widened. “I think I know the feeling. Has he…is he…” He cleared his throat. “Does he feel the same?”
“He hasn’t said, and I think being in love is probably as new for me as it is for him.” Jude still felt that hollow ache of not knowing, but it didn’t change things. “I can live with it.”