Chapter 13
John
The yellow flowers were remarkably bright against the dreary gravestone.
He marveled at the bouquet Olivia had picked out for today.
Jacob would’ve loved them, he thought, pushing his aviator sunglasses higher up his nose and smiling softly.
Olivia made herself busy with the pile of leaves beneath the oak tree a few yards away from Jacob’s gravestone.
Sunlight shone brightly over the cemetery's well-manicured, lush green lawn.
The brilliant blue sky was clear for the first time in days.
He inhaled the cool autumn breeze, trying his best to relax, but it was difficult to do that here.
Justine felt frazzled, her messy, curled hair pulled back into an even messier bun. She sighed, “I swear to God that child is making me gray and likes it.”
He smirked, “Olive just knows what buttons to push.”
“Because I planted them,” Justine grumbled. “She’s a mini-me.”
“Yes, she is,” he concurred, glancing between them. Olivia’s dark blue eyes crinkled in a giggle as she dove for her doll and dinosaur in the pile of leaves, curly hair swishing behind her.
“No Chad today?” he asked.
Chad was Justine’s husband, who he assumed was with their infant son. Justine had named him after their late brother, but everyone called baby Jacob "Jake."
Justine’s eyes flipped restlessly between her daughter, the gravestone, and back to John. “I love my son, but that boy has attachment issues. Won’t let me pee without screaming his head off. Chad took him to Mom and Dad's. Mom…” she paused.
John finished her sentence, “couldn’t be here today. I know.”
“It’s too hard with dad.”
“Oh, I’m aware,” he replied gently, unsure if he could hold both his dad and Jacob in his mind at the same time today.
Justine’s fingers brushed his hand, and he exhaled the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. He squeezed her hand in return.
Her face was a reflection of his, just a few years younger.
And his face would’ve been a reflection of Jacob’s had he decided to live.
The three of them had looked so similar growing up that they were dubbed the Donnelly trio, which always sounded like a garage band name to John.
The only difference between them was the hair.
Justine inherited their father’s curly, messy locks.
Justine had a youthful glow about her today, especially under the sparkling autumn sunlight, the sprinkling of freckles on her nose and cheeks adding to her beauty.
He leaned down and kissed her temple, pulling her beneath his shoulder, his arm draped around her. “Is it your turn or mine?” he asked, as they both squared up before Jacob’s gravestone.
“Yours… I think. I dunno, mommy brain.”
“It’s okay. I’ll do it.”
She dropped the side of her head onto his chest. “Good. You’re better at this than me.”
“Whose judging?” he asked teasingly.
“Me.”
He chuckled. “Alright…”
He stared down at the black and white picture of their brother, Jacob Donnelly, eternally captured in marble and stone.
The picture was taken when he had just turned 21, and the whole family went down to Santa Barbara to celebrate his birthday.
He was in college, at the beginning of his life, with a beaming, handsome grin as he stood on the beach.
He was so young, so full of spirit and light.
“Happy fiftieth, you old fart,” John drawled, causing Justine to let out a snort of laughter, elbowing him in the ribs.
“Serious,” she muttered.
“He never was.”
“True, but still.”
He sighed, “We miss you… Every day.” His throat closed, and he cleared it.
“We know you miss us too, and one day in this grand universe, we’ll all be together again.
But until then, thank you for bringing the laughter into every conversation, especially the serious ones.
Thanks for being the best big brother we could’ve ever asked for.
I’m sorry we couldn’t…” he paused, thinking about his last conversation with Jacob, and how often over the years John had tortured himself for it.
But eventually, he had forgiven himself. And deep down, he knew Jacob did, too.
Eyes brimming with tears, he blinked hard, feeling himself resist his emotions.
And then he heard Wyatt’s voice in his mind.
“You’re a storm that gives and vanishes… Don’t vanish…”
For the first time in his life, John gave himself permission to cry.
Justine leaned back to glance up at him, concern etched on her face.
“I’m—” Fine? No. He wasn’t, and he wasn’t going to say that. “I’m sad.”
She nodded, hugging him closer. “Me too.”
Heart opening, John began again, this time meaning every word.
“In case you can hear us, wherever you are, we forgive you for leaving us. We know you didn’t want to.
We will always love you no matter what,” he whispered, squeezing his sister against him.
“Justine could’ve used an extra uncle to help with the kids… ”
She laughed, her tears glinting in the sunlight. “So true.”
They stood there a moment longer, holding each other and letting the tears fall.
“It feels weird without mom and dad,” Justine confessed.
“They’re here in spirit. We can pick up some ice cream or hot chocolate on the way back. I’m sure Olive would like that.”
Justine arched her head back, scrutinizing him. “You’re being awfully nice today.”
“I’m always nice.” He sounded peevish even to his own ears.
“Not lately…” she said with a long sigh. “I dunno how to say this to you, but I want to.”
“So just say it.”
“This last year, you’ve kinda been a dick.”
He snorted and rubbed his knuckles through her hair. She yelped, shoving him away. “You’re gonna mess up my mess!”
They both laughed. Olive popped up from the leaves roaring with her dinosaur, the doll's head severed from her plastic neck.
“Doll’s gonna need surgical,” he commented drily.
“I like you like this,” Justine said, a genuine affection in her tone. “Whatever you’re doing—keep doing it.”
He blinked, averting his gaze and feeling an unexpected blush form on his cheeks, immediately thinking about Wyatt. “Sure thing, captain.”
Justine stepped forward, eyes widening, and snatched the sunglasses off his face. “Oh my God, you’re dating someone?”
He opened his mouth to reply, then promptly closed it again.
How the hell was he supposed to have this conversation? He had secretly hoped that coming out to his family would involve several bottles of wine. He wasn’t ready to have it in front of Jacob’s gravestone, and yet he knew Jacob would’ve loved this. He always loved life’s little or big surprises.
And this would certainly be a surprise.
Finding out that her brother, after forty-plus years, was gay. Because he certainly was after all the incredibly dirty, erotic things Wyatt had been doing to him for the past month.
“What the fuck?” Justine stared, incredulously. “You’re supposed to tell me everything, that was our deal.”
They were both in high school when Jacob committed suicide.
John was a senior, and Justine was a freshman.
They took it exceptionally hard and made a pact on the day of their brother’s funeral that they would always tell each other if something was going on, no matter what.
They would be each other’s ‘first to know’ phone call or conversation.
Mom and Dad were relegated to second place from that day on.
Not out of distrust or lack of love, but something about losing a sibling had changed their relationship, mostly for the better, bonding them in their shared trauma and going through the waves of grief together.
“You’re right,” John replied. “I should’ve told you.”
“Who is she?”
His chin jerked back.
She.
Nope. Not a she.
“Is it someone you work with? Tinder? Bumble? Peacock—fuck if I know anything about dating apps these days,” Justine rushed out.
“Maybe we can talk about it later…?” he suggested delicately.
Justine balked and then glanced around at the empty cemetery. “Are you serious?”
He shot her a stern look that would normally have medical students running in fear. But unfortunately for him, Justine was made of sterner stuff than that.
She folded her arms defiantly across her chest, waiting, intentionally tapping her fingers on her arm.
“It’s complicated,” he muttered, trying to stall the inevitable.
“What is?”
“My relationship.”
“So, it is a relationship?” she asked, gaping.
“Maybe.”
“What do you mean, maybe?”
“Justine,” he said sternly.
“Johnny,” she mimicked in the same tone.
He groaned, raking his fingers through his hair and then the back of his neck.
Just rip the band-aid off.
“Fine, okay, yes, it’s a co-worker. No, we’re not official because he’s still finishing his residency.”
Justine’s face remained perfectly still, and he held his breath. Her silence felt deafening. He waited for several long heartbeats, wondering how she would react and hoping to hell it didn’t hurt too much if she reacted badly.
“Say something,” he croaked, his throat aching.
Justine’s eyes held his, beginning to water, yet her expression was firm. “He?”
He simply nodded, unable to speak, never realizing how hard this conversation would be.
She blinked rapidly as though downloading and absorbing the information. “How long?”
“How long…?”
“How long have you known you were…” She froze, tears sliding down her freckled cheeks. “Why didn’t you tell me? Did you think I wouldn’t understand? That I wasn’t safe?”
John’s heart broke in his chest and he felt his own tears burn behind his eyes again. “That’s not it. You know that.”
“Then why?” she gasped with a sob.
He sucked in a breath, “I dunno why… I just…”
“You don’t talk to anyone!” Justine snapped, her emotions breaking over her like a hurricane. “About anything, Johnny!”
He suddenly realized this had nothing to do with his sexuality. This was much bigger.