Chapter 35 Three Days till Christmas
35.
Three days till Christmas
Sunday dawned cold and rainy. The somber weather seemed appropriate. The country cemetery where Willie was buried was located an hour away.
Rafi drove. Typically they’d chat or play music or a podcast, but today Ash was silent and on edge, rubbing his hands on his jeans as he stared out the window.
There were no other cars in the parking lot when Rafi pulled in. A murder of crows scattered when they slammed their doors, both men turning their collars up against the cool, misty rain.
“It’s half a mile that way.” Rafi pointed to a wintered rolling field, pockmarked with graves and scraggly trees.
Ash shoved his fists into his coat pockets, hunching against the weather. “Maybe this is a bad idea.”
Rafi put a hand on Ash’s arm, trying to find his gaze. “Just do what feels right.”
Ash was silent for a long moment, glaring at the ground underfoot. Finally, he looked up. “Let’s go.”
The rain got heavier as they trudged along a dirt path. They took a left, and then a right, passed an oak, and then: “There it is.” Rafi pointed to a small, squat headstone, marked only with Willie’s name, birthday, and deathday.
For a full minute, they stood in silence, staring at the grave, rain leaking under their coat collars.
Finally, Rafi looked over at Ash. “Do you want to say anything?”
“Like what?”
Rafi shrugged, shivering in the cold. “Whatever you like.”
Ash squinted, shrugged, and cleared his throat. “Dad…”
Somewhere nearby, a crow called, a piteous, scratchy caw.
“Ah-um…” Ash flicked Rafi a hesitant look.
Rafi made a go on motion.
Ash turned back to the grave. “Dad,” he tried again. “Look, I’m sorry it came to this. I should’ve come earlier. I hope you get some good rest.”
That seemed to be it. Short, but to the point. Rafi turned back in the direction they’d come, then paused. Ash hadn’t moved. He was still staring at the grave.
“Do I?” he continued, almost to himself. “Wish you good rest? Is that something you’d wish for me? Something good?” He raked both hands through his hair, water dripping off the ends. “You didn’t love me. You didn’t even like me. But I was your kid. I was your kid, and you pushed me away.” His voice was thick with tears, even as it rose. “It’s taken me so fucking long to let anyone in because of you.”
Rafi stayed quiet, not wanting to interrupt.
Ash took a few steps away, then wheeled around, addressing the grave. “Do you want to know what I felt when I found out you’d died? I felt relieved, Dad. Relief. That it was over. This. This relationship. The hardest one in my life. Finally done. God, that breaks my heart.” His voice swelled, each word clear. “You broke my heart. Over and over and over again. But I’m done. I’m done.” Ash’s legs gave way. He sank down, knees in the mud, and began to sob. Clutching onto the headstone for support, Ash wept.
Rafi had never seen Ash cry like this. Gut-wrenching sobs. Tears filled his own eyes. The rain was pelting, and it was freezing, but Rafi would stand here for an eternity if that’s what Ash needed.
Finally, Ash’s body stopped heaving. Slowly, he got to his feet, and the expression on his face almost slit Rafi open. Such sadness and pain. Rafi wiped a smear of mud off Ash’s cheek, then pressed their lips together. Despite the weather, their mouths were warm. He found Ash’s gaze. “I’m proud of you.”
Ash nodded. He looked about twelve years old. A little boy unloved by his parent. A little boy whom Rafi had always loved so deeply. In this moment, that love felt stronger than ever.
Ash reached down. He looped their fingers together until they were holding hands. His voice was barely audible above the drumming of the rain. “Let’s go home.”
—
Later that afternoon, Rafi lit a fire in his bedroom, finally in dry clothes, hot chocolates within reach. After the kindling caught, he settled on the carpet, leaning back against the club chair. When Ash came out of a long, hot shower, Rafi expected he’d sit next to him. Instead, Ash curled onto his side, putting his head in Rafi’s lap. Rafi felt a rush of joy—they’d never sat like this. More firsts in a day full of them. Rafi stroked Ash’s damp hair, relishing the solid weight of Ash’s head on his thigh, and it felt so intimate. So close. Minutes passed as they watched the fire catch and crackle.
“I don’t want to be that kind of father.” Ash rolled onto his back, looking up at Rafi. “Distant. Cold. I don’t want that.”
Rafi got goosebumps. He recalled his daydream of Ash pushing a kid on a swing in the park. The dream that’d started everything. “You won’t be. If you ever do it, I know you won’t be.” It was easy to speak with perfect honesty and faith.
Ash let out a happy murmur and shifted back to his side, facing the fire. Rafi stroked his arm, then slid his fingers up to massage the knots in his back. Ash made small exhales of pleasure, softening under Rafi’s touch.
Only a few weeks ago, Rafi had realized his lifelong desire for marriage was related to a need to belong. He’d never felt more strongly that he belonged —was part of something, accepted, understood completely—than he did at this moment, with this man. They belonged here, together.
“Do you remember Career Day?” Ash asked.
Rafi let out a laugh. “I will never forget.”
Parents were invited to explain their jobs to the eleventh-grade class. Willie had shown up, a few sheets to the wind, and proceeded to unleash a thirty-minute expletive-filled monologue that took aim at the government, vegetarians, the Illuminati, and coastal liberals. He did not mention what he did for work. At the time, Ash had been mortified, Rafi equally so. But now laughter rose in Rafi’s throat. “He really let that class of sixteen-year-olds know what was up.”
Ash sat up, hugging his knees to his chest and smiling for the first time all day. “I thought poor Ms. Parker was going to pass out.”
Rafi reached for their mugs of hot chocolate. He handed one to Ash, raising his own in salute. “To Willie. He was one of a kind.”
Ash clinked his mug to Rafi’s. “He certainly was.”
They sipped the warm, sweet milk, their gazes only on each other.
Ash put his cup back on the coffee table and cleared his throat. “Thank you for today. I don’t know if I could have done it without you.”
Rafi reached for Ash’s hand, pressing Ash’s knuckles to his lips. “Just trying to show you we can weather any storm. Together.” His tone was light, but he wasn’t kidding.
Ash smiled, but his gaze stayed earnest. “So, you’re serious?”
“About?”
“Us,” Ash said simply.
Rafi didn’t have to think about it. “Serious as a heart attack,” he said, before catching himself. Joking about the cause of Willie’s death the day they’d visited his grave? “Sorry. God. Why can’t I think before I speak?”
“Because that’s who you are.” A fond smile lifted the corners of Ash’s mouth. “You are impulsive and big-hearted and funny and so fucking cute.”
Rafi wriggled closer, until their legs tangled. “And you are smart and thoughtful and talented and so fucking hot.”
Ash chuckled. He looped his arms around Rafi, pulling him into his lap so they were snuggled together, facing each other. Without even trying, they fit together perfectly.
Ash lifted an eyebrow. “So, are we, like, boyfriends or…?”
Rafi’s eyes widened. “Just like that? You’re ready—to be boyfriends?”
“I know it’s fast,” Ash admitted, “but I can’t casually date someone I’ve known for fifteen years.”
Boyfriends. The idea gushed into Rafi, filling him with joy. “Have you ever had a boyfriend?”
“Yeah. Lots of them.” Ash frowned, considering. “But not…not like a boyfriend boyfriend.”
“What’s a boyfriend boyfriend?” Rafi was half teasing, half genuinely curious about Ash’s definition.
“Someone I might—” Ash waved his hand.
Marry? Regularly fuck? Go to the bathroom in front of?
“Tell my friends about,” Ash finished.
“Sweet.” Rafi wound his fingers into Ash’s hair. “Do you even have any friends apart from me?”
Ash grinned, poking him in the ribs. “Yes, actually. You’ll meet them, they’re great.” He ran a hand through Rafi’s curls. “Do you want to be my boyfriend?”
“I was going to suggest soulmates,” Rafi told him, “but I can live with boyfriends.”
Ash laughed. The first real laugh all day. “Compromise is an important part of every relationship,” he murmured, tilting Rafi’s chin up and drawing him closer until their lips touched.