Cody McFadyen - The Darker Side

"I'll never have sex," he told her. "But. . if I was going to, it would be with a woman just like you, Frances."

"I know," she'd said and smiled. "I feel the same way."

Some might call it twisted; they called it love, and were careful not to look too deep. Besides, nothing ever happened. Frances was going to become a nun. It was their plan. The fact that it would separate them was difficult, very difficult, but wasn't suffering one of the things that God demanded of the faithful?

There was a reason for everything, they both believed that. Father had a twin sister as well. Father had not gone to the seminary a virgin. He'd lain with a woman, and had gotten her pregnant. She'd died in childbirth. It was difficult, but, as in all things, Father was up to the task God had placed before him. He had raised them and had convinced the church to allow him into the seminary. His twin, Aunt Michelle, had cared for them while he was in the seminary. When father returned as an ordained priest, he took them back, and Aunt Michelle joined a convent and became a nun.

It was an unusual life, they knew that, but Father was a good father. He was kind, he was wise, he was hard but fair. He raised them to love God above all things, but he also demanded that they test their faith with intellect, putting them into public, not private schools, and exposing them to the sinful world outside the walls of the church.

"There are far more people in this world who do not believe in God than do," he'd told them. "If you want to spread the word of God to the faithless, you have to understand them. Understanding breeds compassion, compassion breeds love, and love is the best way to bring Christ into a sinner's heart."

Michael and Frances did as he said, and entered that world together. They viewed it like two soldiers who'd been sent on a mission. They hung out together, socialized little but were not unfriendly. They were both so attractive that other oddities were forgiven. Michael's refusals of advances drove the girls crazy, while Frances's refusals convinced the boys that she was the most desirable creature on earth.

They had no real friends at school, only acquaintances, and that was fine with them. They were content in the path they saw before them and had no doubts about their future.

Father and Aunt Michelle were twins, and had become a priest and a nun. Frances and Michael were twins, and shared the same destiny. What else could this be but a sign from God?

They sat down on their beds to do their homework. Michael was uncomfortably aware that he still had an erection. The image of Mrs. Stevens was a vivid one. He glanced over at his twin and was shocked to see that she was looking at him.

She knows. She always knows.

It excited him, it disgusted him, it filled him with guilt and something far darker. The expression on her face was one of speculation. She smiled and reached for the curtain. Before she drew it between them, she said:

"Be sure to go to confession tomorrow."

He swallowed and nodded.

"I will."

"I love you, Michael."

"I love you too."

She drew the curtain closed.

MICHAEL AND FRANCES WERE SIXTEENwhen everything changed. There was no evidence that their world was about to come crashing down around them. The world-and God-were strange and cruel like that. This was something Michael had always known and accepted, until it happened to him. They were asleep when the sound of voices woke Michael up. He glanced over and saw that Frances was still sleeping. Years later, he'd wonder why he'd been awoken. He'd come to understand that God had called him from sleep, because God had a plan. The voices weren't loud, but they had a sense of urgency to them. The fact of them was strange; it was 2:00 A.M. Father went to bed at 9:30 and woke up at 4:30.

Michael stood up and went to the door. He put his ear to it as he had done so many times to the wall of the confessional booth. He closed his eyes, and he listened.

One of the voices was female, and strangely familiar, though he couldn't quite place it. The other belonged to his father.

"They don't need to know!" his father whispered. "There's no reason. This was our sin, our secret. They're fine, they're healthy, and they both plan to lead holy lives, devoted to God. Why burden them with this now?"

"God spoke to me, Frank. I've spent the last sixteen years praying to him, asking him for forgiveness. I have calluses on my knees from praying. He finally answered. Do you know what he said? He said just one word: truth. I heard it in my heart, clear as a bell. God is love, Frank, remember? Love can only come from truth. I agreed to hide this in the beginning because I was ashamed. I was certain God would never forgive me. But he spoke to me, he told me he will forgive me. All I have to do is obey him, to tell the truth."

"You're hearing things! Do you really think that God would want you to ruin their lives by telling them the truth, by telling them you are their mother?"

Michael's head shot away from the door like he'd had his ear pressed against a hot iron.

What had he said?

Mother. The word was mother .

How many times, in early years, had they pressed Father, had they asked him about their mother?

She died in childbirth, he'd told them. She's with God now, she's the reason I joined the priesthood. Let her be.

One day they stopped asking, but they never stopped wondering. And why did her voice sound familiar?

"What is it?"

He started in the dark. His twin stood behind him. He realized he was shivering.

"Michael?"

She put her arms around his waist and hugged herself to him, cheek against his shoulder blades. He continued to shiver, but even in his fear he was aware of her small breasts against his back. He chastised himself in silence. Lust is the devil's work, and the devil is tireless.

"F-father is arguing with someone. A woman. I heard him say she's our mother."

He felt her stiffen against him.

"What?"

He wanted to turn around. He wanted to turn around and tell her to forget it, they should go back to bed and wake up the next morning and realize that it had all been a dream. He couldn't turn around right now, though. She'd see his lust.

The devil is tireless. .

"I heard him. Listen."

She continued to clutch him as they strained to hear. He marveled at the dexterity of Satan. Michael was terrified of what they might hear, angered at what they'd already heard, he was a little bit dizzy, he was trying to hear more but didn't want to hear more, and through it all, he was never unaware of those small breasts against his back, the hint of what might (just might) be her nipples. Lucifer could walk and chew gum at the same time, no doubt about that.

"I forbid it!" Michael's father raged in a whisper. Silence.

The woman's voice was calm, sure, certain. He still couldn't quite place it; the whisper was disguising it.

"You can't forbid me to do what God's ordered, Frank. I am their mother, and God has said it's time they knew everything."

Michael knew something was very wrong when Frances gasped. She buried her face in his back and moaned. It was a sound of horror. Her arms left him and he felt her back away. He turned around and saw that her face was milk-white, her eyes so wide he thought they'd pop out of their sockets, her fist stuffed in her mouth to stifle her moans. She pointed a shaking finger at the door, but couldn't seem to say anything coherent.

"Frances? What is it?"

She pulled the fist from her mouth. He was shocked to see that she'd bitten it hard enough to draw blood in places.

"Her. ." she whispered, still horrified. "Don't you recognize her voice?" She began to pull her hair. Some of it ripped away from her scalp. "Don't you recognize her voice?"