Dad Had Two Sons

The smooth stone paths wind their way up the hill to the Grand Circle of Pillars around the city. The white pillars are massive, placed symmetrically around the rim of the valley. The old marble remains clean and untarnished, protected by the one who put it there. In the golden light of the approaching sunset, the stone reflects rose, silver, and lavender as if, just beneath the surface of the rock, thousands of opals glitter.

This particular path meanders east, amid shrub trees and brushes. Blooming flowers scent the breeze, causing a smile to cross the face of a vibrant man from the city. He travels up, looking to the pillars at the top. With walking stick in hand, the man easily climbs the steepening grade. His road becomes marble steps matching the pillars at the summit of his climb. Though he rests occasionally, his small, well muscled, frame is not tired by the climb. His olive skin seems golden in the dazzling light high among the pillars.

Below, the City bustles with people finding old friends and new, streams of people flooding in through the north gate. The day's rush slows, and as evening approaches few enter, some with a fanfare. Others enter quietly. Eyes wide, they marvel in the glory of the city.

He sits with his back against the nearest pillar, facing north. His black, curly hair dances slowly in the breeze. The stone's coolness seeps through the undyed cotton of his shirt. His attention drifts to the top of the column.

He waits. The soft sound of wood against marble signals the coming of another. The new arrival smiles as he sees his friend.

"Brother!",

He cries in greeting. His brown face widens, filled with laugh lines.
"Sorry I took so much time to get here. Sorting out the paper work was a pain."

He stands, opening his arms for an embrace, ruffling his friend's thick black hair.
"'Tis good to see you, Brother."

The companions stand apart, looking over each other.

"It's been some time since I've been able to call you that."

The first man gazes at the setting sun. The pair moves round into the shadow of the column, gold and glowing brown fading into more natural colors.

Smiling, the brown one said,

"But, you know, it was all worth it. We couldn't risk blowing Dad's entire plan for the sake of politeness."

The two men sit at the base of the pillar, in its shadow. The first holds his staff, tracing patterns against the stone. The other sits, his pole across his lap.

"I know . . . ,"the olive one said, "Dad had been very insistent on this one. I guess I understand. He has worked for so long."

He fingers his staff, examining the curve at the top.
"You know, they greeted me with flowers when I got here. No paperwork, no guards' questions, but a celebration. And my brother has to sulk in through the small door. You would think that our father would have explained that we were just acting."

He strikes the stone with the staff in irritation.

"But we did get into our roles." The dusky one shrugs.

He pauses. His eyes darken. He points his finger at the other.
"I thought you weren't going to finish the last act!"

"When?"

"In the garden."

The accuser's voice rises in anger.
"You sounded like you were going to run off the stage, leaving everything hanging in the balance. I'm glad I got there in time, before you changed your mind and _did_ leave."

The unexpected attack raises the defenses of the olive skin brother.

"Now, wait a moment," he said. "I wasn't the only one who forgot the script at times. I seem to remember you having a hard time dragging yourself to the temple. I had to shame you into leaving the table. You were ready to rest there, falling asleep with the others. If I had not told our friends about your plans, would you have gone through with them?"

"Look, Mister No-blame-on-me, I didn't ask for this job. I was just doing as Dad asked,"

His voice cracks as he relives the pain. The dark eyes water.

"And can I help it if it was hard to turn in my own brother, hard to kill myself without a word of explanation? You started wanting to cling to your life too. Don't you deny it!"

Apologetic, the first man tries to sooth his friend.
"Hey, you know what it's like. Learning to live for twenty-odd years and having to give it up."

He said softly, taking the edge out of his voice,

"And it's not like my job was any easier than yours."

"Yeah, but you at least get a good word."

The pain ebbs through the second man, lingering for a moment longer.

"I get the short end of the stick. I think I have the right to be bitter. I'm the one who gets the blame. Even our friends, they couldn't bear to look at my body. Yours, they cherished."

"He had a reason for giving us the roles he did, you know."

Easily, the Mediterranean skinned one calms the storm in his brother. Softly, he said,

"If you were the persuasive speaker that I was, the whole lot of them would be hanging about drinking wine, and you and I would still be doing the whole charade. And I never had your determination."

The speaker turns away from his brother.

"I couldn't have turned you in. I'm too weak."

Looking back, the two pairs of eyes meet.

"The speaking bit was easy for me, and once you forced my hand, what choice was there? You made it happen. And that's what counts."

Relenting, the brown skinned face eases.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. I've heard this speech before: If you were the key, I was the guy who turned you so the gate could open'"

He pauses. The fire in his dark eyes fades. He admits,
"I suppose that it does make me feel better. We did it for Love."

"Yeah. That's who we are."

The brothers pause, looking at the city that they helped to bring about. Its golden hue shines in their damp eyes. So much pain, so much labor has finally come to an end. A simple gesture, one wiping away the tears of another. A smile spreads on olive skin, mirroring a brown smile on his friend.

Looking down at the north gate, the second brother asked,

"Did you get to see the eyes of the first to come, the first to see this place?"

"Yes, and what a sight it was. It made all the work worthwhile. You should go down to the gate, it might give you some perspective."

"Yeah, and I might surprise a few of them. They wouldn't expect me to be here."

"Well, they have a lot to learn."

The two men stood, stretching. They wandered down the stairs between the two massive, white pillars. They looked down at the city lit in gold. Their voices lingered with the double tap of wood on stone.

"Do you think these will ever heal?"

The one said, looking at the ragged holes in his hands.

"Only if you want them to. I still say He likes you best," said the other.

"Only if infinity is bigger than One."

They both said laughing. They trod down the path, brothers united.

All works are the intellectual property of Nickolas P Jones unless otherwise noted. Use without the consent of the author is prohibited.

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