by Jerry Cole
“Well, maybe we aren’t all as stuck in the past as you think we are,” she said.
“New upholstery doesn’t change anything.” I slung my bag over my shoulder and walked up the stairs to where my bedroom had once been.
As I got closer to the room, I felt my chest get tight. Everything in the house seemed to have faded, but that memory was still as vivid as ever. I remembered that afternoon in October, upstairs in my room. I could still hear the wind blowing outside and the way the waving trees made dancing shadows in the brilliant light of the sunset. I could still feel my heart pounding in my chest and the feeling of being warm all over. I could still remember him. Everything about him, from the shape of his lips to the way he would hiccup whenever our eyes locked for more than ten seconds. I remembered it all, especially how it all ended; in this room, so many years ago, and it still hurt like hell.
I opened the door. It was still a bedroom, and it looked unused. I simply flung my bag onto the bed, turned around and walked out. I didn’t bother to unpack.
“Let’s go and get this over with,” I said, coming down the stairs two at a time.
“Wait,” she closed her eyes and exhaled. I knew she was reaching her limit. Holding her tongue was never her strength. “Visiting hours are done for today and we need to talk.”
“I don’t want to talk. I want to get this over with so I can get back to my life,” I said.
“So would I, but that’s not how this works,” she said, pulling a chair out from the dining room table. The tabletop obviously hadn’t been used for a family meal in years. Piles of bills and rows of pill bottles littered the table. I didn’t look too carefully at any of it. I didn’t want to care about how he’d been living, and the less I knew the easier it would be to walk away. She used her foot to push a chair out for me to sit in.
“What do you want from me, Janet?” I refused the seat and stood instead.
“I want you to stop acting like such a hard-ass.”
“Hard-ass? What would Jesus think of that kind of language?”
“Cut the crap, Josh. I know you are still butt-hurt about dad sending you away back then, but he was doing what was best for you. He was looking out for you. You were just too caught up in your feelings to see it.”
I glared at her glib expression and fought the urge to dump a bucket of toilet water over her head.
“I’m sure it was for my own good. The perfect place for a sexual deviant is a military school.”
“He was fifteen, Josh!”
“I was SEVENTEEN, Janet!” I pounded the table with my fist. “Not thirty. Not twenty-five. Not some dirty old man cruising the strip for teenaged boys. I was a boy in high school IN LOVE!”
She made a face and looked away.
“Bleh,” she gagged. “Don’t talk to me about love. That is not love.”
“What the fuck would you know about love, Janet? Huh?”
“Can we not do this right now, huh? Right now, we need to talk about dad. He is in bad shape and right now what he needs is his family. His whole family. So, can we put your petty feelings to the side for five minutes so you can at least pretend to be supportive as he fights this disease?”
“Petty?”
“It’s prostate cancer, Josh. It’s aggressive and we didn’t catch it early so we are playing catch-up. So, yeah, compared to a fight for your life, your feelings about how your daddy didn’t love you enough is pretty fucking petty.”
“Prostate cancer? How did he find out?”
“He had to go for a physical for some insurance thing and they did an exam.” She looked down at her hands as she spoke.
I couldn’t help but chuckle. She looked up at me as if I’d lost my mind.
“Funny thing is, if he’d just let another man put his finger in his ass a little earlier, we could’ve avoided all of this.”
“Josh!”
“What? I’m a deviant, remember? A certifiable sex offender. How could you not expect that kind of thing out of me?”
“He isn’t doing well. The treatments have really taken a toll on him. I’m trying to warn you so that when you see him you aren’t shocked. He’s still as feisty as ever, but he’s been through a lot.”
“Okay, got it. I’ve seen sick people before, Janet. I’m prepared.”
But I wasn’t.
I walked into the room expecting to see a faded version of the man I left behind. Instead, I saw a hollowed-out man. Everything except his eyes seemed to be in a state of decay, and as much as I wanted to be able to laugh in his face for having to crawl back to the son he’d thrown away so easily, I couldn’t find the humor in it. He wasn’t just sick. He was dying. Not the quick death that I’d seen, where everything shuts down at once and leaves nothing behind. It was a slow weakening death, as his body gradually shut down and failed him. Only the spirit of the man was left burning bright. And even that, I feared, was going to fail at any moment.
“You came,” was all he said.
“Yes.”
“You look healthy,” he said with a nod.
I didn’t say anything else. There was nothing left to say.
I stood beside him on the pavement outside the entrance as Janet pulled up.
“Can you help me?” The nurse turned to look at me.
“Yeah, don’t worry. I’ve got this,” I said, turning to look at my father properly for the first time since I arrived. He didn’t look me in the eyes or reach out for my help.
“Here we go old man,” I said, sliding one hand under his shoulders and the other under his knees. I lifted his body up easily and took two steps to place him in the back seat. He grunted in protest, but by the time he formed his complaint the deed was done.
“Oh, okay, just be careful with him,” the nurse said, impressed by the sight.
“I will.”
I smiled at her and she blushed, giving me a heated once over with her eyes before turning around and wheeling the empty chair back into the hospital. Honestly, I felt sick to my stomach. The man should’ve weighed twice what he did. When I lifted him, I could feel the bones in his body and the wasted flesh clinging to his bones. The man I used to know was nothing like the one I hoisted into the back of Janet’s SUV. I got into the front seat and we pulled away from the hospital in silence.
“I bet that was fun for you, boy,” he said, his husky voice rasping due to the steroids that he was on.
“What?”
“Throwing your old man around like a sack of potatoes must have been really fun for you,” he said, defiantly.
I laughed bitterly.
“Throwing around a hollow man is a hollow victory,” I said. He chuckled and then fell silent. I felt as hollow as his body felt in my arms. There was no possibility of victory over him. There was no satisfaction in defeating a defeated man.
We delivered him back to the house and settled him back into his bedroom. We didn’t speak to each other. I listened while Janet explained his medicines and new diet to me. I read the pamphlets and booklets that she’d collected over the months of his illness. I looked around the house that used to be my home and felt a sharp longing in my chest.
Ian.
I missed him. I needed him. I didn’t want to miss one day with him, just in case one day one of us ended up like Harold. I needed him to know that I loved him and I wanted our home to be a place where that love lived, not just a museum to its memory.
Chapter Eight
Josh
“When are you coming back?” I helped Janet lift the old duffle bag into the back of the car.
“I don’t know. A couple of weeks?”
“Weeks? Fuck no! Days, okay, but not weeks!”
“Come on, Josh. I’ve been here for weeks. I have a family. I need to get back to my life too. You can handle this.”
“This isn’t about whether or not I can handle it. I know I can fucking handle it. I DON’T WANT TO BE HERE,” I tried not to sound hysterical but I was failing.
It had already be
en three days and I was ready to crawl out of my skin. Harold and I were miles away from making any real peace between us. I was ready to go. There wasn’t anything left for me to do here except wait for the old man to die and I was missing Ian. We talked every night, but it wasn’t enough. I needed him but I wasn’t willing to bring him into my mess.
Not that he didn’t volunteer. But, getting on a flight was a huge leap for him and I was touched that he would even attempt it, but I wouldn’t subject him to that kind of stress just to watch this bigoted old man take his last breath.
“Josh, this isn’t up for negotiation! I have to go home. I have a family waiting for me.”
“I have a fam—”
“A REAL family, Josh,” she interrupted. “Not some barely legal kid that I’m shacked up with.”
She could hardly hide her disgust at what she assumed was my relationship with Ian and despite having always known how she really felt, it still hurt like hell.
“Well, that must have felt good. I thought you might bust something from holding it in for so long,” I said with a comfortable smile.
“I’m-—”
“Don’t you dare!” I hissed. “Don’t you dare make up your mouth to say you’re sorry. We both know you’re not sorry. You said exactly what you meant to say just the way you meant to say it. That’s all I am to you. A sexual predator, or at least a potential sexual predator. And Ian, he has a name, by the way, is just my what? Latest victim? Fling? Co-conspirator in the never-ending fight against your good name?”
“I’m not going to do this with you, Josh. I have to go. We can talk about what to do with daddy later.” She got into the car and drove away, leaving me standing in the driveway, feeling frustrated and defeated.
I went into the house and checked on the old man, who was napping in front of the television. The longer I looked at him the more I felt the walls closing in around me. I needed to get out of there. I snagged the keys to his car and left him a note, taking off for some fresh air. I found myself facing a small manmade lake not far from the house. I stood under the same tree that I’d climbed as a boy. It seemed smaller now. Faded, like every other good thing about my childhood. I leaned against the trunk and closed my eyes. It hadn’t changed. I had.
“Josh Green?”
The deep voice startled me but I didn’t bother to open my eyes. I wasn’t in the mood to be sociable.
“Who’s asking?”
“Patrick Dun—”
I opened my eyes before he could finish the words. The man standing in front of me was definitely a Dunlevy. The same red hair, pale skin, and angular features that they all shared. He gave me a warm smile as if we were long-lost relatives. Jesus, I used to love that fucking smile. It was one of the things that hadn’t faded, apparently.
“You might not remember me but—”
“I remember you perfectly.” I turned to leave but he grabbed my arm to stop me.
“Josh, I...just... When did you get back in town?”
“I’m only in town for a few days. I’m leaving soon.” I pulled my arm free and turned back toward the car.
“You don’t have to be like that, Josh. I thought we could catch up and get to know each other again.”
I wheeled around and got in his face.
“I said I remember who you are, Patrick. I remember everything about you and exactly who you really are. And THAT’S the reason why I’m leaving,” I shoved him lightly before marching back to the car and pulling away.
I couldn’t catch a break here. What the hell was he doing down by the lake anyway? It felt like my worst nightmares were coming to pass. I’d told myself I’d never be trapped in this town again, I’d never subject myself to that old man again, and I’d definitely never lay eyes on Patrick Dunlevy unless he was in a casket. Now here I was, doing all three.
I drove back to the house, brooding and angrier than when I’d left. When I returned Harold was making his way to the bathroom. He saw me walk in and our eyes met for a moment before he continued to shuffle off. I watched as he reached for the small banister at the bottom of the stair. I saw his hand slip and his knees buckle. For a brief moment he looked up at me and the look in his eyes said “help”, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I couldn’t bring myself to catch him as he fell.
I watched him fall to the floor, and struggle to get up, cursing himself and the “damned doctors” and their “damned treatments” that seemed to be making him weaker instead of healthier. I wanted to pick him up and help him into the bathroom. I wanted to be able to laugh it off and help him recover his dignity, but I couldn’t bring myself to do that either. Even if I had tried, I doubted very much that he would’ve accepted it. So, instead I reached out a hand, silently, and waited for him to take it.
“I bet you’re loving this, aren’t you, boy?” He sneered at me but I stayed still. He obviously needed help and since I was already standing there…
“You gonna walk me into the little boy’s room as well?” he grabbed my hand and I pulled him up to his feet. “Isn’t that what you queers do these days?”
“I don’t think you need any help in the bathroom,” I said and turned to leave.
“I heard you have a new little boy toy. I heard he’s young,” he said. “If you want to be queer, that’s one thing, but don’t go around confusing regular, normal boys with your sickness. Just because you’re like that doesn’t give you the right to spread it around. He deserves a chance to be normal. To live a normal life.”
The emotion in my father’s voice startled me. He was actually pleading with me. He seemed...shaken. I turned to face him, ready to pounce on him, consequences be damned, but the sight of his face stopped me dead in my tracks. He had tears in his eyes. He looked defeated already. I hadn’t said a word yet, and he looked like he’d already lost the fight.
“I know I failed with you. I know it,” he said. “But you can’t do that to others. You can’t just…” he pursed his lips and went into the bathroom.
I wasn’t sure what to think. I wanted to shout at him and tell him that I wasn’t a sex offender. I wasn’t twisting anything. I was just in love. But he couldn’t hear me no matter how loud I shouted. The idea that two men could actually love each other was something unheard of in his world.
“Harold,” I called him through the bathroom door. “Ian isn’t a boy. None of my lovers were. Ian is an amazing person, and he loves me.”
“Don’t make me sick,” he grumbled from inside the small bathroom.
“I love him. We take care of each other.”
“Uh-huh. I don’t want to talk about it, Josh. You live your life any way you want. I can’t stop you or convince you otherwise. You proved that to me years ago. But I don't have to approve of it.”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s wrong, Josh. Because you were supposed to be more than that.”
“More than what?”
“Some queer chasing around... You know when I was in the military, they showed us films about guys like you. I even met one or two. They both died but they were like that. Every chance they got, they were chasing some kid. Trying to get them to do disgusting things. I just minded my own business then. It wasn’t my concern. Who knew that my own son would end up being one of them?”
“Do you regret it?” It was a question I’d been afraid to ask even though I knew the answers.
“Regret what?”
“Everything. Not ratting them out. Raising me. Do you regret it?”
There was a long pause. I wondered if he’d somehow lost consciousness behind the bathroom door. I was about to kick it in when he finally spoke.
“I regret, whatever it was that I said or did or didn’t do that made you this way. I regret it every day of my life. Hell, yeah.”
I always knew what he thought of me, but it hurt that even now, even as he was facing his mortality, he couldn’t see past his own prejudice. He couldn’t see me at all. To him, I was a monster, something he’d been warn
ed about since childhood. I wasn’t his son; I was a disaster. I knew all of that before I came, but it still hurt to hear it.
“Good talking to you, pop.”
I went back up the stairs, down the hall to my bedroom. I closed the door behind me and sat on the bed. Human decency wouldn’t allow me to leave a frail and ailing man on his own. Self-preservation said that I shouldn’t subject myself to him any longer. I was trapped. I didn’t even have my work to distract me. I could only think of one thing at that moment, and it was the only balm to my heart.
Ian.
Chapter Nine
Josh
“Josh, I need a ride.”
I looked at the number on my phone and sat up in bed. I was pretty sure I was hallucinating. It was definitely Ian’s voice but it wasn’t his number and it made no sense for him to be calling me at this hour looking for a ride. He didn’t drink, so I couldn’t even blame it on a drunk dial.
“Where are you?”
“In the air, somewhere over Ohio, I think.”
“Ohio?”
“I think.”
I turned the light on and put both of my feet on the cold floor. The shock to my system was enough to assure me that I was fully awake.
“Why are you over-- HOW?” I tried not to shout into the phone.
“I missed you.” His voice was quiet, and I remembered that he was probably sitting next to somebody he didn’t know. He was currently trapped on a big metal tube surrounded by strangers, feeling very vulnerable and battling his anxiety every moment.
“I miss you too. How did you get—”
“These calls are expensive. They are charging me like a million dollars a minute. I should be landing in a few hours. Just pick me up, okay?”
“I’ll be there.”
“Okay…great… I…”
He didn’t have to say it out loud. I knew what he wanted to say.
“I love you too.”
I couldn’t go back to sleep after hanging up the phone. I checked the time. It was just after four o’clock. I spent the next hour working, checking emails, reading through contracts and sending new instructions to my team managers. I told them I would be unavailable for the next two days. It would take at least that long for Ian to get settled in. By five o’clock I couldn’t stay still in the house. I could hear Harold snoring, sleeping soundly in his easy chair in the living room. He rarely used his bedroom anymore. The only time he ventured up the stairs was to shower, which was becoming increasingly infrequent.
