Chapter 17
Calvin
Braeden grips my arm painfully, and his face is buried in my arm as he cries. I adjust myself so I can wrap my arm around him and let him get it out into my jacket. His slight body trembles, barely holding himself together on a molecular level. One stiff breeze, and he’s a poof of exploding atoms.
This shit has got to be hard on him. Hell, I’m barely holding it together myself.
My eyes water as the minister says the last words at the two caskets, sitting side-by-side.
Marisa and Robert took ‘until death do us part’ to the next level.
It’s poetic in a fucked-up way. It’s fucking tragic, is what it is.
“A circle, a journey, a river, a path—life and death are part of us all,” says the minister.
The few friends who are there are all crying and holding each other.
I don’t know any of them. It’s another reminder of how out of touch I was with Marisa and Robert, who were supposed to be my best friends.
I’m not sure this feeling of regret and guilt will ever go away.
The bare minimum I can do for them now is watch over their son.
I continue to hold Braeden as they lower the caskets into the graves. I pinch my eyes closed as the tears fall freely. As if sensing what’s happening, the boy clings tighter to me, refusing to look.
There’s something final about lowering caskets into their resting spots. That last bit of denial that their deaths are real is obliterated with the sprinkling of soil. This is where they will be until the end of time, or until they’re nothing but the soil they’re mingled with.
It’s a tough pill to swallow, knowing that’s the fate for every single one of us.
It puts things into perspective, showing how short life really is.
Too many people squander their lives with pettiness and hate.
Hell, I’ve been known to do a little squandering myself.
At the end of the day, our feelings won’t matter. We will all eventually be forgotten.
As the crowd disperses, they try to approach Braeden and offer their condolences, but he isn’t being responsive. He refuses to leave the safe place in my jacket. I shake hands with a couple of people before they move on.
“Will you be at the reception?” a woman asks.
I look down at the top of Braeden’s head. “I don’t think he’s up for it. Thank you.”
She smiles kindly. “I understand.” She rests a hand on the boy’s shoulder before moving on.
Once everyone is gone, I ask him, “It’s done, and everyone is gone. Would you like to say goodbye to them before we leave?”
He sits up straight, sniffs, and wipes his nose with the back of his hand. I take out my pocket square from my suit jacket and hand it to him. He blows his nose, then shoves it into his suit pocket.
Braeden stands and slowly makes his way over to the two graves before he looks over at me. His face is pale, his eyes are red and wet. I ache for him. “Can I be alone for a minute?”
“Sure, kiddo.”
I stand and make my way toward my car, which is parked on a little road leading into the cemetery. I lean on the car and watch him from a distance.
Meanwhile, I rub my face, feeling suddenly older than my years. My fortieth birthday is coming up way too fast. Next month. I’m fucking dreading it.
Braeden doesn’t stay at his parents’ graves for long before heading back to me. I don’t know whether he said anything to them, or if he stood there wishing his life were someone else’s. In the end, I hope this service gave him some closure.
It’s close to dinnertime when we get back to our hotel room, where Braeden curls into a ball and takes a nap. As he does that, I order us some food from room service. Neither of us has eaten much today.
After removing my shoes, suit jacket, and tie, I stretch out on the bed and swipe my phone open. I’d expected some texts from Seth. He’s the type to check up on us, as he does frequently, but there’s nothing. Maybe he’s giving me space and time with Braeden.
I glance over at his back, stand, and sit on the edge of his bed, resting my hand on his shoulder. He cranes his head back to look at me before he turns away.
“I guess you don’t want to talk, huh?”
He says nothing, but I know he hears me. I know he’s listening. His lack of response is an answer in itself.
I try to conjure my inner Seth. What would he do? Be vulnerable, Cal, he’d tell me.
“I knew your mom before I knew your dad. We were attending Rice together. She was so pretty and vibrant. I was dating a guy at the time; otherwise, I would’ve been interested in dating her. We ended up being best friends. Your mom was an incredible person.”
He still says nothing, but this time, he rolls over and tucks himself against me. I rest a comforting hand on his shoulder.
“I remember the day she met your dad. He had a grace about him, not only grace, but he had this aura that made you want to like him. It’s hard to pinpoint how or why you simply wanted to be his friend as soon as you met him, or in your mom’s case, to be his girlfriend.
Your mom was the same way. She was easily likable.
It’s no wonder they were drawn to each other. ”
“Where did they meet?” he asks. His voice is so soft I barely hear him.
“There’s this bar close to the university where your mom and I would drink and play trivia games.
We went there with my boyfriend at the time.
She was so damn smart. You kind of have to be to get into Rice.
It was like she held the world’s knowledge in that amazing brain of hers.
Then in walks your dad, all dapper, even in a T-shirt and jeans. I mean, who irons their jeans?”
Braeden huffs a little laugh as he listens to my story.
“His eyes landed on your mom, and I knew right then that history was made. They were drawn to each other like moths to a flame. Two pieces of a puzzle. Of course, they hit it off immediately. And I was there to watch them date, fall in love, get married, and eventually have you. Then I missed the rest of it, much to my regret. Unfortunately, no matter how much we wish for it, we can’t turn back time. There are no do-overs in life.”
Braeden takes my hand in his and looks up at me with his swollen eyes. “They would’ve forgiven you.”
I smile at that. It takes all my power to keep from fucking bawling my eyes out, but I don’t.
Still, my eyes burn like hell from holding the tears back, and I take a shuddered breath.
“I know they would. Even though they’ve passed, they will always have a piece of themselves in this world in you.
You carry their legacy. You carry who they were and what they looked like. They will never be truly gone.”
“I like that.”
I blew out a breath in relief that I’m making him feel at least a little better.
“Can I ask a personal question?” he says.
“Sure.”
“S-so you’re gay?”
“Bisexual, actually. Why?”
He shrugs. “I don’t know.”
“Do you have questions about your sexuality? If you do, you can always talk to me about it. I know you’re young, so you’re still learning about yourself.”
He shrugs again. “I don’t feel any way about anyone. Do you think that’s weird? I’m not talking about now, but when I was in school and stuff. Kids in my last school were dating already.”
“It’s not weird. Sometimes people take years to figure out who they are and who they like, while others know right away. I’m sure it will come to you.”
“Did you figure it out early?”
“Pretty early. I was a year younger than you when I had a crush on a boy, but the following year I dated a girl. I lean more toward men, but I like the ladies, too.”
We don’t talk about anything else when he grows quiet, and I run out of things to say. I scroll through my phone as Braeden tries to sleep.
When there’s a sudden knock on the door, I get out of bed and answer it to room service. The man brings in a tray full of appetizers and shit, so Braeden can pick through what he wants to eat. It’s here if he wants it. After I tip the man, he leaves and closes the door behind him.
I look at my phone again, and there’s still no response from Seth. I really need to talk to him.
I need him.
I step over to Braeden and touch his shoulder. He opens his eyes, but still says nothing.
“I’m going to go downstairs to make a call. I’ll be at the bar if you need me. Just text me, and I’ll be right up.”
“Okay.”
“There’s food here if you get hungry. Will you be okay?”
He nods and rolls over.
The hotel is surprisingly empty, so I order an old-fashioned and sit on one of the lounge chairs that has an ottoman. I stretch out, take a sip of my drink, and text Seth.
Me: Hey
I wait about ten minutes, but there’s no answer. Maybe he’s busy with his kids, or he’s out on another date. He’d told me his kids would be with his parents this weekend so that he could focus on work and Leo.
I try reaching him once more, but this time I FaceTime him.
The call rings a couple of times before he answers. It’s dark where he is, and it looks like he’s lying down in bed.
“Hey, Tiger? Did I wake you from a nap?”
“No.”
“Aw, you sick?”
“No.”
His voice sounds terrible.
“You sure? You sound sick?”
“I’m not.”
Alarm bells are abruptly clanging, especially when he buries his face into his pillow. It’s only after a muffled sound of pain that I sit up, my body tense.
“What’s wrong?”
“Don’t worry about it. You’ve had a rough couple of days.”
“The world doesn’t stop when I’m having a rough day, Tiger. What happened?”
“Leo and I ended things. I ended things.”
My body relaxes when I realize it’s not something worse. Can’t say I’m disappointed, though. “I’m so sorry.”
“Cal?”
“Yeah?”
“He… hurt me.”
His voice goes from rough and hoarse to guttural, with all the pain in the world centered around his words.
‘He hurt me’ echoes in my mind over and over. Scenarios play out of how Leo hurt him exactly, and the more I think about it, the angrier I get. Is that prick a fucking abuser?