Chapter Six
Greg was comfortable, pleasantly full, and content for the first time in a long while.
The day seemed to have gone by so slowly, and yet that wasn’t a bad thing at all.
He’d dozed on the couch, chatted with Micah, looked through photo albums that Micah’s dad had left beside him, and eaten plenty.
His appetite had finally returned, and despite Micah’s jokes about their cooking prowess, he and his dad had prepared a great meal.
It was almost enough to banish Greg’s fears. Almost—but not quite.
By the time nine o’clock rolled around, it was obvious Micah’s ass was dragging.
His dad noticed too, and told him to go to bed.
It was only once Micah had left them that his dad told Greg that Micah had been up since the crack of dawn, working on a canvas, before coming to collect Greg from the hospital.
“And before you start feeling guilty,” his Dad interjected, “he usually gets up early to paint. He says the light is better. Micah hates to paint by artificial light. Says the colors don’t appear the same in light that isn’t natural.
” He smiled. “Not that there’s a whole lotta light early in the morning at this time of the year.
But yeah, he’s not a night owl, that boy.
” He peered at Greg. “And what about you? Are you a dawn or dusk guy?”
“I guess I’m more of a morning person,” Greg admitted. He sighed. “I can’t thank you enough, sir. This is really kind of you.”
“Hush. Like I said last weekend, you’re Hayden’s kid. There isn’t much I wouldn’t do for ya.” He cleared his throat. “Greg, I like your manners, honest, but… do you think you could call me Joshua? Sir kinda reminds me of my dad, and trust me, that’s not a good thing.”
Greg blinked. “Okay… I guess. It feels a little weird, I have to admit.” Then he thought about it.
Micah’s da—Joshua—had been friends with his own dad.
Maybe a little familiarity was okay in those circumstances.
But that thought led him off down an avenue full of questions.
“Do you think… could we talk a bit about my dad?” Top of Greg’s list was that letter.
What on earth could his dad have written that would make a grown man weep the way Joshua had done?
And what was so all-fired important that Dad had wanted to share with Joshua?
Joshua stilled. “I suppose we should, really. Unless… you’d rather wait until tomorrow? After a good night’s sleep, I mean.”
Greg knew evasion when he heard it, and Strike while the iron is hot was one of his mom’s favorite sayings. “I didn’t know my dad all that well. It was only during the past couple of years that we… reconnected.”
“How come?” Joshua sat beside him on the couch. “What happened between you two?”
“Nothing. But he and mom split up when I was little.” Greg paused, uncertain as to whether he should continue.
The opportunity seemed too good to waste.
“What I’ve never discovered is the reason why.
Mom says nothing about it. All my dad would say was that he wanted to stop living a lie, and I don’t know what he meant by that.
Oh, I’ve come up with so many theories, but…
” He stared at his clasped hands, lost in his own thoughts.
Joshua’s breathing hitched, and Greg glanced up sharply. “What if… what if I knew why?”
Greg’s heartbeat sped up. “You… you do?”
Joshua regarded him in silence for a moment, then got up from the couch and left the room.
Greg stared after him in bewilderment, until Joshua returned, carrying the envelope Greg had delivered.
He removed the letter and something else, that he handed to Greg.
“This is your dad and me, when we were seventeen.”
Greg gazed at the photos, unable to hold back a smile when he saw the goofball expressions on his dad’s and Joshua’s face. “Looks like you two had a few laughs.”
“God, we did.”
Then Greg studied the final two images, and it was as if a hand tightened around his chest. That look… almost naked emotion, so plain to see that…
Slowly Greg raised his head to meet Joshua’s gaze. “Is there something you want to tell me?”
Joshua sighed. “I think I’ll let your dad do that.” And with that, he handed Greg the letter.
Greg’s hand trembled as he held the sheets, covered in a familiar scrawl.
Jackson, WY
April 29, 2017
Joshua,
I know I’ve probably left this too late, but…
You have no idea how many times I’ve thought about trying to find you these last few years. I told myself you were happy, that you had your own life… that you didn’t need me waltzing into it and raking up the past. But then two things happened that made me rethink that decision.
I’m so sorry about your wife, Joshua. I saw her obituary in the paper. It said you were married for twenty-four years, and that you have two children. Then I saw where you live. My God. We’ve been living in the same state for the past twenty years or so, and we never knew.
I hope you had a good life with her. You deserve that.
Yet knowing how close we are? Hell, I could get in my car and drive non-stop for just over nine hours, and I’d be on your doorstep.
Not that I will. I still can’t find the courage to come visit you.
Too much time has passed. And now… I’m writing this letter, knowing I’ll never mail it to you, because to do that would be like admitting that I’ll never see you again.
That would be like giving in to the cancer that’s consuming me.
Cancer. Yes. I’ve got anywhere between three and six months, they tell me.
No surgery—I’m beyond that. Beyond chemotherapy and radiation too.
The ironic thing is I never even realized I was so ill.
This bastard snuck up on me, and by the time I got the diagnosis, it was already too late to do a damn thing about it.
So little time…
I have to get down on paper what I wish I could say to you in person. It’s as close as I’m going to get, so here goes…
I loved you. God, how I loved you. Joshua, my sweet boy, my first—my only—true love.
I’ve never forgotten you. Not for one single minute.
I got married too, but unlike you, I couldn’t stick at it.
Something deep inside of me knew it was wrong, that I only married Debra to please my parents—that I never loved her, at least not the way I loved you.
I have a son too. Greg. After years apart, we’re finally building the kind of relationship a father and son should have, only it’s too little, too late.
My hope for him is that he finds someone who loves him half as much as I loved you.
I should have tried to find you sooner, I know that now. But as time went by, I made more and more excuses.
Remember me, Joshua. Remember what we shared. I look at how the world is changing, and part of me likes to imagine that we could have had what others now enjoy—marriage, equality…. Happiness.
Never forget I loved you first.
Hayden
Greg’s vision blurred, and tears dripped onto the paper.
He knew he was crying for so many reasons; the father he’d only gotten to know a little of: the love that permeated those few lines: the knowledge that he and his dad were more alike than either of them had guessed; and finally, the heartache Joshua and his dad had clearly suffered.
A gentle hand covered his. “Here.” A folded cotton handkerchief was pressed into his palm.
Greg wiped his eyes and looked up. “What happened? Did you break up or something?”
Joshua swallowed. “Our parents. That’s what happened. Then my family moved from Alabama to Wyoming. I had no idea where Hayden ended up—now that I know about you, I’m assuming California. I never heard from him again.”
Greg nodded. “So you and he… my dad was… gay?”
“Gay, bi, I’m not certain. I can only speak for myself.”
“And… did you feel for him, the way he felt for you?”
“God, yes.” Joshua’s eyes glistened, and Greg cursed the fact that he couldn’t move the way he wanted. Joshua shifted closer and held his arms wide.
That was all the invitation Greg needed.
He buried his face in Joshua’s chest, and the dam burst. Hot tears soaked into Joshua’s thick shirt, and Greg made no attempt to rein them in.
Joshua’s body shuddered, and Greg knew he too was crying.
Little by little, he regained his composure, until finally his tears dried up and he pulled away, exhausted.
Joshua pushed Greg’s hair back from his forehead. “You okay?” His eyes were red, his cheeks blotchy.
Greg nodded, inhaling deeply. “Sorry about that.”
Joshua sniffed. “Nothing to be sorry for. And there was I, thinking I was all cried out.”
A thought occurred to him. “Does Micah know? Has he read this?” Greg handed the sheets and photos to Joshua.
“He knows, but… you’re the only other person to read it.” Joshua gazed at him thoughtfully. “If your dad was never going to mail this, what changed his mind?”
Greg sagged against the seat cushions. “The first thing I knew about the letter was the day before he died. He gave me the envelope and made me promise to mail it to you. I was to make sure you received it.”
Joshua sat so still. “Did… did he suffer, at the end?”
Greg couldn’t look at him, couldn’t stand to see the pain in his eyes.
“He was heavily sedated. He kept pointing to the nightstand drawer, so I opened it. I found the envelope.” It had made Greg’s heart ache, just hearing his dad trying to get the words out.
But finally, Greg had grasped what he wanted.
“When he’d… gone, I looked you up and found your address.
I wrote it on a slip of paper and put it in my wallet.
I was going to mail it, honestly. But then I got to thinking…
It was my dad’s final request. The least I could do would be to deliver it in person. ”
“Not that you weren’t in the least bit curious,” Joshua said with a wry smile.
Heat crawled up Greg’s chest and neck, finally reaching his ears that he felt sure were glowing, they were so hot. “Possibly,” he admitted.
Joshua folded the letter and replaced it in the envelope, adding the strip of photos.
“Were they in with the letter?”
Joshua shook his head. “I kept these. They were the only photos of him that I had.”
Greg stilled. “Did…. Did your wife ever see them?” Joshua nodded. “Did she say anything?” Greg doubted anyone could miss the almost tangible, emotional connection between the two young men in that last photo. Not unless they deliberately chose to ignore it…
Joshua glanced at the clock above the fireplace. “I think that’s a tale for another night. It’s getting late, you’ve had a long day, and you need to rest.” Greg opened his mouth to protest that he wasn’t tired, and a yawn escaped. Joshua smiled. “I rest my case.”
“You promise you’ll tell me the rest of the story?” Greg had more questions, but they had time.
“I will. I’ll tell both of you.”
That was good enough for Greg. Then Joshua slipped his arms under Greg’s back and leg, and lifted him carefully into the air. “Bedtime.”
Greg clung on as Joshua carried him to the guest bedroom that would be his for a while. How long for, Greg had no idea. Long enough for him to find out more about his dad, and the man who had loved him.
Joshua set him down on the bed. “I’ll wish you a good night, then.”
“Wait!” When Joshua halted, Greg found the words he’d wanted to say since Joshua had carried him through the front door.
“I’ve been meaning to thank you for paying my hospital bills.
You didn’t need to do that. Only, now I kind of understand why you did.
” He lifted his chin and met Joshua’s gaze. “That was because of my dad, right?”
Joshua nodded. “Like I said… anything for Hayden’s boy.” He gave Greg a warm smile. “Now get some sleep.” He left the room, closing the door quietly behind him.
Almost in slow motion, Greg undressed, removing the sweat pants that Micah had brought for him. He supposed he’d get used to the cast, but it frustrated the hell out of him, and he couldn’t wait for it to be removed for good. He lay in bed, his mind going over his dad’s letter.
Greg’s last thought before sleep overtook him was one of regret.
I should have told him I was gay. I thought we had more time.