Family Ties

by Hans M Hirschi

  They had always had an open relationship, both with big appetites or libidos, if you will, but had normally stuck to each other, despite differences in what they liked. Dan was an active top and needed to fuck every now and then, and Sascha wasn’t going to oblige him. Although a total bottom, he wasn’t a big fan of anal sex in the first place. The chocolate comments from his childhood constantly rang in the back of his mind. Not to mention Adelaide! Adelaide was always there and always would be, Sascha thought.

  No, Sascha just enjoyed watching guys go down on each other, sucking dick, and possibly getting a blow job himself.

  Mitch had been more than happy to oblige, even swallowing Sascha’s load—a bit of a fetish for him. Afterward, they started talking, and Sascha, being upset at Dan and the world, fell head over heels for Mitch. That was odd, given that he really wasn’t his type, heavy set, hairy and a banker. Stranger things have happened, he thought, and as they strolled down to Marina Bay for drinks, time seemed to stand still.

  When Sascha returned at two a.m. to their condo, Dan was livid and worried sick. They barely talked for days. Dan could be very stubborn, and so Sascha retreated back to Mitch, drinks along Marina Bay or somewhere in Chinatown, after a hot bath, watching the Chinese money boys pick up tourists, and getting a blow job. For a while, he met Mitch every day, but eventually, he started missing Dan, his strong arms. He missed lying on the couch, head on his shoulders, watching some silly U.S. drama show.

  Even now, as they journeyed together to the cemetery to lay his mom to rest, Sascha had to smile when he recalled the day he made up with Dan, both of them in tears.

  The walk was long and mostly uphill. All the while, the church bells rang like chimes, the only sound Sascha really appreciated. At least Mom’s going out with a bang, he thought.

  * * * * *

  Mom

  She had been the quiet type, ever helpful, the perfect housewife. She was so much like Sascha, highly empathetic, and she always knew when people needed her help, or needed anything, really. She was happy to oblige, help out, assist. All the while, she died slowly inside, from the damage to her immune system after giving birth to Sascha, suffering from severe bipolar disorder, which left her with short spurts of happiness and more energy than anyone around her could absorb, followed by long streaks of depression, anxiety, and unhappiness.

  To make matters worse, when Sascha had been in Australia for an exchange year, she had suffered a severe concussion after falling off a horse and being hit in the head by a hoof. She had never been the same again. Probably brain damage to her frontal cortex, but no one ever bothered to do an MRI, and Mom was allergic to doctors—shrinks in particular. When he had returned from his exchange year, Sascha met a different woman in the house, an odd feeling for an eighteen-year-old returning home after a year abroad.

  Poor Mom, you suffered so much! Once again, Sascha had to fight tears willing themselves into his eyes. He held Pascal’s tiny hand in his as their procession slowly approached the cemetery.

  You had such a difficult life. Dad cheating, your illnesses, the constant pain, and then Alzheimer’s robbing you of the one thing you were most proud of: your mind.

  * * * * *

  Dad

  The procession arrived at the gates of the cemetery, and the hearse stopped. Mike looked over to Sascha and gestured to the urn. It stood lonely, on top of a stool of sorts, in the middle of the carriage.

  “You wanna grab her and take her inside?” Mike asked.

  “Sure. Dan, will you take the kids?” Sascha walked over to the hearse, where the man who was leading the horse stood, ready to hand him the urn from inside the carriage. So light, he thought.

  He flashed back to his dad’s funeral four years ago. Full casket. His mom had wanted it that way, although it made no sense to Sascha back then, either. He and Dan had just moved to Singapore, and Mike had been living in Darmstadt with his German wife, Helene, for years, working for a pharmaceutical company as a sales executive, so they really saw no point in a big grave with all the work that would entail. However, their mother, in the early stages of Alzheimer’s, wouldn’t budge. She had lost all sense of time and perspective, and decided in that way of hers that cremations were an abomination. Nobody was going to burn her husband, no way!

  Instead, they had to carry the huge casket from the hearse to the family grave site. He was so heavy. How did he ever become so heavy? They had barely made it without dropping him to the ground.

  Now, his wife would be laid to rest right next to him—or on top of him. Sascha couldn’t remember. It was a small family plot, where his grandparents and great-grandparents had been buried, along with all their children, layer upon layer of bones. Mom was the first one to be buried after a cremation, and that was only possible because it was so soon after Dad’s passing. Despite the fact that she didn’t approve of cremations, they’d decided that being with her husband was more important.

  So much to think about, so many details, Sascha thought. At least Dad had prepared. He had carefully laid out what he wanted, in a rare statement of concern for his wife, six months before he suddenly passed. She had already been too far gone to make decisions, so he had stipulated for a cremation (yeah, right!) and burial in the family plot. He had also chosen a casket and even pre-paid the whole shebang. All Mike and Sascha had to do was execute his will.

  Well, almost! If it hadn’t been for Mom and her full burial…

  Still, Dad’s passing had been a shock to Sascha. His dad had just recently retired from his work, unwillingly, but somehow he’d felt a very strong need to look after his wife. He’d wanted to care for her, despite his business, his affairs.

  He loved her, after all. Sascha took the urn and turned toward the grave site where Dan had found him just a few hours earlier.

  * * * * *

  Dan

  Sascha walked slowly through the cemetery gates and tried to make sure it was a worthy walk. It kind of reminded him of his graduation ceremony, although the urn he carried underscored the serious nature of the situation. He wiped the smirk off his face before anyone noticed it.

  Behind him, Dan led the twins. His man looked so beautiful in this moment, standing tall between their boys, his black shirt tucked into a pair of stylish black trousers, matched by a new belt. A long, dark gray coat complemented the outfit perfectly. His gaze was on the boys, making sure they didn’t get any funny ideas about turning the cemetery into a playground.

  Sascha called to mind the day they had met, in that gay bar in Sitges. Dan had been sitting alone at a table by the street, playing with the small umbrella in his drink. Bare-chested and tan, he wore a pair of pink shorts that accentuated that which couldn’t be hidden and gave Sascha this strange sensation in his throat. He longed to just drop everything and go down on that gorgeous stranger. Luckily, he had been taught better and did not.

  Instead, he’d slowed down his walk and smiled at him. Sascha was the quiet, shy type. He didn’t really chat up strangers in bars in foreign countries. Just as he was about to walk by, a raging hard-on in his pants, Dan spoke up.

  “Hi, I’m Daniel, and you are?”

  That’s all it had taken. They had been a couple ever since that afternoon in Sitges twelve years ago. Dan left his university and moved in with Sascha in Zurich, where they both finished their studies.

  Sascha knew he couldn’t erase the smirk on his face. Besides, his crotch had started to shift, the urn still in his hands. Not now. Sascha reached the family grave, the hole unmistakably lined by planks and a few fir twigs, no doubt put there to make it look less earthy, more dignified.

  With everyone gathered around the small hole, the priest started talking again, about ashes to ashes, dust to dust, that sort of stuff. For once, though, the ashes part seemed accurate enough. It pained Sascha, as he knew that he was about to close another chapter in his life.

  He glanced over at Dan, who returned the look, eyes beaming with love. He still held the boys by their tiny ha
nds, standing there like a Greek statue, a steady oak in the stormy sea that was their life right now.

  Sascha felt a rush of warmth run through his body. He loved Dan so much. What did I ever do to deserve him?

  He replayed Sitges, that first beer at the bar with him, how they had lost track of time, sitting close to each other, laughing, talking, talking, talking. When the bar closed, many hours later, the owner almost had to toss them out on the street. It was only then that they’d realized just how much time had gone by. Sascha’s hotel room was in downtown Barcelona, but by the time they’d left the bar, it was too late to return, no more trains running. He could’ve gotten a taxi, but Dan quickly persuaded him to spend the night in Sitges. With him.

  Sascha didn’t mind one-night stands, which was a strange term, really. In most cases, it was more about a one-hour stand—two, if the sex was amazing. Sascha was not the kind of guy to spend the night with strangers, not at their place and certainly not at his. He laughed at the old story of having to cook breakfast. Uh, not on my watch… No, Sascha loved sex, but that didn’t mean he had to spend the night.

  Dan was different. The odd thing was that Sascha had traveled to Spain to get away from Switzerland for a few days, to get over his last boyfriend. They had recently broken up, and Sascha thought that Spain, sun, and hot Latino boys would heal his wounds more quickly.

  Instead, he’d ended up meeting this American boy, who had come to Sitges for almost the same reasons.

  Well, Sitges does have a bit of a reputation. Dan had planned to stay a few more nights before he had to move on to Paris, Rome, Athens, and a few party nights on Mykonos. He had already been to Ibiza, Sascha learned.

  They had walked, hand-in-hand, through the tiny streets of Sitges to Dan’s hotel, and Sascha had felt immensely sad about the prospect of losing this hunk again, before he had really met him. What would a couple of days be? Then again, take it slow. Why rush? You just got out of one bad relationship, no need to rush into the next. Besides, you haven’t even had sex yet, and you’re practically seeing yourself walking down the aisle? Sascha had been furious with himself, always running ahead of things, always hoping, dreaming. Eventually, it would be his undoing.

  It turned out differently, didn’t it? They’d spent the night talking, making out, going down on each other, and cuddling for hours on end. By the time they got up in the morning, Sascha and Dan were a couple. Dan had changed those parts of his travel schedule that were changeable, and Sascha had called work and asked for a few more days off. They had spent the rest of that summer together. Sascha had to smile at that memory.

  They had married later that year, in a dull room at Zurich’s City Hall, so that Dan could get a visa to move to Switzerland. Needless to say, Sascha’s parents were far from thrilled. Having a gay son was bad enough. Now, they had a married one.

  * * * * *

  Coming Out

  It had been a nightmare, Sascha’s coming out. His knuckles were white from almost crushing the urn in his hand as his mind wandered back to that dreadful day when his mother had stumbled across his diary. My luck, he thought, that Mom should discover my diary just as I had finally admitted to being gay to myself and confided it in print.

  That day, his dad had picked him up from school and remained quiet the entire trip home. At the house, Sascha found his mom in tears. She wouldn’t speak to him for three days, then finally appeared in his bedroom, crying, begging for his forgiveness and letting him know that she still loved him.

  But before that would happen, his father had a long talk with Sascha. He talked about phases, psychiatrists, and therapy. He threatened to cancel the exchange year in Australia if Sascha didn’t see reason. Later that evening, Sascha’s diary went up in flames. His desperate parents attempted to literally exorcise the demon from their firstborn.

  Didn’t do much good, though.

  Sure, it pushed Sascha to the back of the proverbial closet, but it didn’t make him straight. The phase just wouldn’t go away. Ever. Eventually, during his exchange year in Adelaide, Sascha met his first guys, got fucked, and liked it. He had gone back for more and then some, been raped, and had not liked that, definitely not liked that at all.

  Eventually, he found the strength to come out to his parents again. This time, he didn’t argue. No drama, no more diaries to burn. Just a simple statement. “I am who I am, like it or not, but if you don’t respect me for who I am, we’ll part ways amicably.”

  They got the point, but it took time, and every new development, including his marriage to Dan, strained their relationship. Sascha’s conservative dad was convinced that a poof for a son was the kind of news that would destroy a respectable construction business. What would his staff say? His customers? If they ever found out he’d raised a faggot, would they still shake his hand? Talk to him? Do business with him? Would they turn away when they saw him in the village?

  Of course, most people were just happy it wasn’t their son who had turned out “that way.” Over time, Sascha’s parents learned that he wasn’t so bad. They even grew to love Dan and accepted him as a son of sorts. He certainly beat that daughter-in-law of theirs, they said, that German Valkyrie. They had never liked her.

  * * * * *

  Helene

  Focus, Sascha, he thought, still holding the urn as the minister recited something about his mom’s life. No time to think about your sister-in-law.

  But it was too late. The image of the petite girl from Darmstadt who had captured his brother’s heart at the University of St. Gallen was right there, front and center, on his mind. He never quite understood why his parents never liked her. He got along famously with her. Helene was the first one to learn about his second coming out, and her only comment was a long hug. They never spoke of it again. It is just Sascha, she had seemed to say. So what?

  Yes, he definitely liked his sister-in-law, his brother’s most endearing decision. When Mike and Helene had started dating, the three of them spent a lot of time together, having fun and going to the movies. Sascha never once felt like the fifth wheel on the wagon; quite the contrary. They were this family, both brothers who were not very popular at home, Mike for his choice of women, Sascha for, oh well.

  I wonder why she’s not here. I hope the kids are all right.

  Just then the minister looked at Sascha and pointed to the hole in the ground. “We now commit the physical remains of Anna Meyer to her final resting place. May she rest in peace.” He gestured to Sascha, who took the step up to the hole and carefully lowered the urn into it, making sure not to trip.

  * * * * *

  Rest in Peace

  That’s it, he thought. Tears welled up inside him, and he bowed to the urn, sitting there at the bottom of the hole. He took a bit of dirt into his hand and sprinkled it over the urn, then, turning around and stepping back, he joined Dan and the boys.

  Mike was up next. Misty-eyed, he took a deep bow, mumbled a few words Sascha couldn’t pick up, and then sprinkled a bit of dirt on the urn, too. Aunt Clara followed suit, but she didn’t bow. She just stood there, eventually saying, “Thank you.” Then she turned around and walked over to the minister.

  “Come on, boys,” Dan said, leading them up to the hole. He took a bit of dirt into his hand and showed the boys how to sprinkle it on top of their grandma. Pascal followed suit, but he was a bit excited, and as he threw the dirt, it looked more like he was sowing than sprinkling. Sascha chuckled, full of love and pride for his little boy. Shane didn’t move. He just held on to Dan’s leg and shook slightly, Dan tousled Shane’s hair.

  “You okay?” he asked. “Do you want to do this?” Shane shook his head.

  Dan blew a final kiss to his mother-in-law, bowed deeply, and looked into Sascha’s eyes. Both of them teared up, and Dan and the kids joined him.

  The minister walked over to Mike, shook his hand, and then repeated the same thing to Sascha and Dan. “My condolences, boys, but now the hard part is over.”

  Sascha looked
at his brother and Aunt Clara. “Now what? You want to go to the restaurant, eat something?”

  “Yeah, I need a drink,” Mike replied, a smile barely visible across his lips. His arm hooked into Aunt Clara’s, and he started to walk away from the grave site, leaving the cemetery. Sascha, Dan, and the boys followed, and the minister took up the rear.

  As they left the gates, Sascha spotted the workers shoveling the dirt back into the grave, slowly filling the hole where they had just laid his mother to her final rest.

  That was fast, he thought bitterly.

  * * * * *

  The Restaurant

  Their small party walked to their favorite place in town, a small restaurant owned by an old family friend. They knew their mom’s funeral wouldn’t draw a big crowd. It had been different when their dad had been buried. He knew everybody, and he was equally feared and respected in the community. Back then, things had been different with a huge banquet for at least fifty people. They drank, ate, and reminisced about the old man.

  Sascha’s mom had already been too ill to really participate. She mostly sat quietly between Mike and Sascha, not eating much, her thin, wiry frame looking as if it might break into small pieces at any time.

  After Dad’s funeral, she had refused to stay in the house alone, which was a good thing really, because she was no longer capable of looking after herself. She refused to move to Darmstadt where Helene had offered to care for her, and she certainly wouldn’t “move to China,” as she had put it back then.