aterovis_bleedinghearts.pm6

by Arlene Chance

  He had said that I’d be sorry; me and my boyfriend, and we all knew he meant Seth. Then I thought of Asher and his words that day last week in this same room, “If he hurt you, I’ll kill him.” Immediately, my body stiff-ened involuntarily.

  Asher noticed right away, “What? Did I hurt you?”

  he asked me.

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  “No, its nothing,” I said, then, “Can I ask you a question?”

  “Sure, Kill, you know you can ask me anything.”

  “Asher, why are you being so nice to me all of a sudden?”

  He didn’t answer at first. He just finished up the bandaging job and then sat back on his heels, leaving his hands still resting lightly on my sides, his eyes turned down, not looking at me.

  “I told you before,” he said.

  “Tell me again,” I insisted.

  He took a deep breath. “When I thought I was losing you as a friend to Seth, I realized how much you meant to me. When you started acting so different, I wasn’t sure what was going on. You were always snapping at people and getting mad and yelling. It wasn’t like you, so I got worried.” He looked up to see if I was listening, then, quickly looking away again, he continued. “I didn’t really like what Zack and Jesse were saying and all, but it was just easier to go along with them. But then when you got hurt, almost killed, it really scared me. I realized that I had almost lost you...er...lost the chance to tell you...I mean...”

  “Tell me what?” I asked softly.

  He sat there for a second then looked back up at me.

  Our eyes locked.

  “Did you love Seth?” he asked me.

  “What?” I gasped.

  Then he leaned forward onto his knees again and kissed me softly on the lips.

  Time seemed to slow down when Asher kissed me.

  In the few seconds that our lips were pressed together I had a whole conversation in my head.

  “Does this mean that Asher is gay? Well, duh! Straight guys do not generally kiss their friends on the lips like this. Not unless they are in the Mafia and I’m pretty 71

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  sure Asher isn’t — his dad maybe, but not Asher. But then why didn’t he ever tell me? Maybe for the same reason I didn’t. But then again, I didn’t know until last week really. Oh, who am I kidding? I’ve always known in my heart. Nothing has ever felt more right than Asher kissing me. Wait a minute! Asher is kissing me!”

  With that last thought, I jerked back and stared at Asher wide-eyed. He slowly sat back on his heels and looked up at me. I could read in his eyes the fear of rejection and the depth of his feelings. For a long time neither of us spoke. Finally I pulled myself together.

  “Why did you kiss me?” I asked. My voice came out shaky and a little hoarse, as if I’d just woke up, which is kind of how I felt, too.

  “I- I - I’m sorry,” he said shakily, “I shouldn’t have.

  It’s just...I found that letter that you left on the couch last night when I was looking for you, the one from Seth.

  I know I shouldn’t have read it, but I did.”

  I had completely forgotten about the letter. What if Dad had found it? I was very glad that Asher had found it instead. Especially considering what had just happened.

  He continued, “When I read that you were gay...,” he stopped again and seemed to search for words, “Killian, I’ve had a crush on you for years. I’ve always known I was gay, but who was I going to tell? Zack? Jesse? No way! I finally got up enough nerve to come see you and I found that letter. When I read that you were gay, I had to find you. And then when I saw you outside in the rain like that, my heart broke for you. And for me too, maybe, cuz I thought that you must have been in love with Seth to be so upset. I was so jealous of him, Kill. I was afraid that he would steal you away from me. I want to be with you, Killian Travers Kendall. Seth said that you were at a crossroads. Last night you almost went down the wrong path. Let me help you, 72

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  please. I want to walk with you down whatever path you choose.”

  He seemed to run out of words and so he just sat there staring at me expectantly. I wasn’t sure what he expected, however. I wasn’t sure what I felt. I needed time to think.

  “Ash,” I began, speaking slowly and deliberately, “I need some time to figure stuff out. All I can tell you right now is that yes, I am gay. No, I didn’t love Seth.

  Not in that way at least. I didn’t even really know him, although I wanted to know him better.”

  “So you don’t want me?” Asher whispered.

  “Ash, I didn’t say that. I just meant...” I stopped as a large tear slipped out of the corner of his eye and rolled down his cheek. I followed its shiny path all the way to his chin, mesmerized by that small drop of saline.

  “It’s okay, Killian. I understand. Why would you want me? I’m just a dumb jock who treated you like dirt.” With that, he began to cry in earnest, not great body-shuddering sobs, just quiet acceptance. In a way, it was worse. I slowly slipped off the bed until I was sitting next to him on the floor. I reached out to him and drew him to me and let him cry quietly on my shoulder for a minute. Then I cupped my hand under his chin and lifted his face until he was looking me in the eye. I kissed him softly on the lips, just for a few seconds before breaking away.

  “Asher, right now I don’t know what I want. I like you. I do. It’s not that at all, it’s just...I don’t know how to explain it to you. I need more time. I mean, there’s a lot going on right now. Seth hasn’t even been buried yet.”

  Asher nodded and sat up, pulling gently away from me.“His memorial service is this afternoon you know,”

  he told me, wiping his tears on the back of his hand.

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  “He was buried already back up around Baltimore somewhere, but his dad wanted to have a service down here too.” He looked at his watch. “Actually, it’s in like one hour.”

  “I didn’t know,” I said softly, “I want to go. Can you take me?”

  “I dunno, Killian. Maybe that’s not such a good idea.

  I mean, everyone’s talking already cuz you were with him in the park and all.”

  “Please?” I begged him. “It would mean a lot to me.

  Kind of like a chance to say good-bye.”

  He stared at me, then nodded. “Yeah, I’ll take you.

  And I’ll stay with you too so I can bring you home afterwards. We’ll leave a note for your mom. Let’s get you changed. You can’t go dressed like that.”

  The next 45 minutes were spent with the two of us changing my clothes (it was a two-person job) and then swinging by Asher’s house while he changed his clothes.

  I sat in the car while he ran in, giving me a few precious minutes to think, the first I’d had since Asher’s big revelation.

  I still wasn’t sure how I felt about Asher. I knew I liked him, but did I trust him enough to give him a chance? My heart screamed yes, but my head was still having doubts. Especially troubling was the idea that maybe Asher was the attacker. He’d admitted that he was jealous of Seth and he felt as if Seth was taking me away from him. And his words that day in my room kept echoing through my head over and over, “If he hurt you, I’ll kill him.” Somehow I just couldn’t believe that about him, but it still kept me from jumping in the way I wanted to.

  And what about what he’d said earlier, that everyone was talking about me? That meant that they suspected I was gay. I was still coming to terms with it myself; I wasn’t ready to deal with everyone else. Why 74

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  did life have to be so confusing?

  Finally Asher came back out dressed almost identi-cally to me, all in black. He looked a whole lot sexier, however, at least in my opinion. The black silk shirt clung to his chest in a way that almost made me dizzy.

  “What?” he asked me.

  I tore my gaze away from him and tried to remember why we dressed like this. I felt guilty for finding myself so attracted to one friend on my way to the funeral of another. “Nothing.
” I mumbled.

  “No, tell me. Should I go change? Do I look stupid?”

  “Definitely not.” I told him. “Let’s go, we’re gonna be late.”

  The memorial service was being held at the park, of all places. I was scared about going back, but I tried to tell myself that it was broad daylight and Asher would be with me. I’d never even been to a memorial service before, or a funeral either. I wasn’t sure what to expect.

  We drove in silence, neither of us knowing quite what to say. When we arrived at the park, there were hardly any other cars. As we approached the pavilion where the service was taking place, I could just about count on one hand the number of people who had showed up to remember Seth. I recognized Adam Connelly, Seth’s dad, standing next to a handsome man of about the same age. He was talking to a man wearing a black suit and a clerical collar who I assumed must be the minister or priest or whatever. I didn’t know the other several people there.

  Adam noticed us as we approached, and he broke away from the man in black and walked towards us.

  The other man with him followed a few steps behind.

  “Killian, thank you for coming,” he said simply and embraced me gently, watching out for my injury. “You should be at home recuperating, but I appreciate your being here. I’m glad there will be at least one person 75

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  here that cared about Seth beside Steve and I.” He turned to the man who had followed him over and motioned him forward.

  “Killian, this is Steve Redden, my very good friend.

  Steve, this is Killian Kendall, he was Seth’s friend.”

  I shook Steve’s hand and exchanged nice-to-meet-you’s.

  “This is my friend, Asher Davis.” I said.

  After another round of hand shaking, Adam turned to Steve. “Killian was attacked that night as well, but thank goodness he survived.”

  I shuddered at the implication; that Seth hadn’t been so fortunate. It was a grim reminder of why we were standing here now.

  “Come on,” Adam said, taking my shudder for a sign of my physical weakness, “you need to have a seat.”

  With Adam on one side, Asher on the other, and Steve trailing behind, I felt a little like royalty as we approached the pavilion. I scanned the group that had gathered. It had grown to maybe fifteen people while we were talking; I suspected that some of them were police and others reporters. All in all, it was a sad testa-ment to sad, broken life. It seemed so unfair that such a good person had been struck down so young. And I was convinced that it was over something so incredibly stupid. In fact, his killer could be here today, pretending to mourn for the very life he took.

  Then I noticed a particular face and stopped cold.

  Steve almost ran into me from behind. What was my father doing here? Political posturing most likely, it was after all an election year. I didn’t think he had noticed me yet, but then he slowly turned and stared right at me. His eyes were intense and I knew the fight I had been avoiding since the hospital wouldn’t be put off much longer.

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  distract me from the reason I was there. Adam insisted we sit on the front row with him and Steve. I felt very conspicuous and I could tell Asher felt uncomfortable as well, but I couldn’t say no.

  As soon as we were seated, the priest stepped forward to the podium. I noticed the table set off to one side for the first time. It had pictures set up all over it; all of them had Seth in them somewhere. Many of them were the ones I had seen at his house, but there were some new ones, too.

  “We are here today for a very solemn purpose,” the priest began, “to remember the life of a young man cut off before his time. Seth David Connelly’s life was ended much too soon in a senseless and tragic act of violence.

  Perhaps we will never understand what provoked such a horrible event, but we can rest assured that Seth is no longer in a world filled with hate and prejudice. I am going to keep my comments very brief today to allow you time to remember Seth in your own very special ways. But first Seth’s father, Adam, has some words he’d like to share with you.” I got the impression that the priest really didn’t know Seth at all.

  Adam stood up and walked to the podium. He stood for a minute without saying a word; just stood there, gripping the podium as if it was all that was holding him up. I thought he was going to break down, but he fought for control and won.

  “My son was taken from me last week. He was taken from me by an act of violence so horrible that it physically sickens me every time I think about it. Most of you here didn’t even know him; you’re only here because your editor or superior sent you. You’re just doing your job. Well, let me introduce him to you. Seth David Connelly was a beautiful, brilliant, clever, and kindhearted 16-year-old. He enjoyed running on the beach. He liked reading mysteries. He did well in all 77

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  his classes, but theater was his favorite. He loved acting. He wanted to be an actor, but now he’ll never get that opportunity.”

  He choked up and dropped his head. When he looked up again his eyes were bright with unshed tears, but he was once again in control. I admired him for his strength.

  “There is so much more I could tell you about my son. He was the greatest joy of my life. Nothing will ever be able to fill the void that his death has left in my life. But I haven’t told you something very important about my son. He was gay. And he wasn’t afraid or ashamed of it either, even though he had suffered so much in his young life because of it. He was a hero to me. He should have been a hero to all of us. He had the courage to accept himself in a society where he was told that what he was is wrong, that it’s dirty and perverted.

  But he knew differently. He saw things with his poet’s heart. To him the world was always beautiful and exciting. He trusted inherently. We moved to this town in the hopes of finding a safe place to live — it’s ironic isn’t it? It’s even more ironic that this town that prides itself on being welcoming so totally rejected my son. In fact, there was only one person at his whole school who would even speak to him without calling him names and insulting him. To me, he is also a hero.” He looked at me and smiled a sad, teary-eyed smile. “Thank you, Killian.

  “I want to leave you with this thought. The police and our state’s attorney have been quick to tell us that Seth’s death was a random mugging. Why do they believe that when there is so little evidence? All his money was still in his wallet. I believe that this was a hate crime, pure and simple. I told the police investigating about the threatening notes that we found and they wrote them off as childish pranks. I don’t think having your throat slit is childish.” Several people gasped and Adam 78

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  seemed to be struggling for control again. “His killer may never be brought to justice, but I take comfort in the fact that one day he will have to stand before the Great Judge. Goodbye, Seth. I love you!”

  Adam stepped down from the podium, took his seat and began to weep softly. Steve pulled him into himself and allowed him to cry on his shoulder. No one moved for what seemed like an eternity, then the priest slowly walked back up to the podium. “Does anyone have anything they would like to say in memory of Seth?” He almost sounded as if he hoped not. Again, another eternity seemed to pass. No one dared even move. It was almost like they were holding their collec-tive breath. Just as the priest cleared his throat to give some final words, I stood up.

  Every eye was fastened on me, including the furious glare of my father. I looked him straight in the eye before turning to Adam.

  “I am truly sorry for your loss, Mr. Connelly...Adam,”

  I began, “It’s not just your loss, though. It was a loss to every person who never got the chance to know him. I didn’t know Seth that long, only two weeks really, but he was my friend. He was a truly good person and that’s something we don’t have enough of in this world. He helped me through what could have been one of the hardest things I’ve ever been through. I’ll miss him.”
/>   I collapsed back into my seat and tried not to cry. I felt Asher’s hand fumble discreetly with mine for a second, then it slipped into my hand and he held it below the sight of the people sitting behind us. It was not, however, out of sight of the priest who looked at us in surprise before once again clearing his throat.

  “Well, if that’s all, then I’d like to thank you all on behalf of the family for coming out to show your respects. Donations can be made in Seth’s memory to the Theater Club at the high school. Thank you.” And he 79

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  quickly hurried away.

  At the priest’s dismissal the crowd quickly dispersed, my father shooting me a lethal look, until finally it was just Asher, Adam, Steve and myself.

  “So you don’t think it was a mugger either?” I asked Adam quietly.

  “Either?” he asked me with a raised eyebrow.

  “I didn’t believe that from the beginning,” I told him,

  “but what can we do?”

  “We can’t do anything,” Adam said, stressing the ‘we’,

  “and there’s not much I can do, for that matter. I’m thinking about hiring a private detective, but the few I’ve contacted so far turned me down cold. They said this isn’t some TV show where private detectives run around with guns. They mostly just do insurance stuff and spy on cheating spouses. They told me to drop it and let the cops handle it. Who cares if they sweep it under a rug?”

  We both sighed at the same time.

  “Maybe I can ask some questions around school,” I suggested.

  “Are you crazy?” Asher jumped in.

  “Asher’s right,” Adam said, “That wouldn’t be safe, Killian. We’re talking about a murderer here. He killed Seth and he tried to kill you.”

  “No, he didn’t try to kill me. If he wanted to kill me, I would be dead. He had the opportunity and he didn’t take it.”

  “Two things there,” Steve interjected, “One, you say

  ‘he’, do you know for sure it’s a man? And two, what do you mean he had the opportunity and didn’t take it?”I thought for a minute. “No, I don’t know for sure it was a man. It could have been a very strong woman, I guess. Or a well built teenager, easily. I didn’t get a good sense of his size because he jumped on me and we were 80