Page 3 of Protecting Paul

I can’t help but sigh heavily. I’m already having a flood of traumatic memories on the damn ride up, and there’s only more to come when I actually get there. As if being back in town isn’t bad enough, I’ll be back in my childhood home where most of those memories took place.

I turn the music up and focus on singing along. It does help a little to bring me out of my head. The drive is only a couple of hours long, so I need to collect myself before I arrive. There’s going to be a lot more to address than my shitty childhood.

The longer I drive and the closer I get to Shafter Falls, the more the anxiety in my stomach churns. I’m completely unprepared for this. I have no clue how to pick up the pieces after someone dies, but I guess I’m forced to figure it out as I go.

Almost too soon, I see the sign announcing I’m arriving back in my hometown. This definitely doesn’t feel like coming home. The friends and community I bonded with in Denver feel more like family. I remind myself that this is only temporary. I’ll return as soon as all of this is sorted out.

Without a high school degree, it’s not easy to get a real “adult” job. I spent my time in Colorado working different service jobs or odd jobs. It was sufficient for a while, but right before hearing about my dad’s death, I was struggling to make ends meet.

In a way, the timing of this fiasco is good. If I fix up the house, put it on the market, and collect whatever inheritance is waiting for me, I can get back to my life as soon as possible, hopefully with a little financial breathing room. After that, I can truly bid goodbye to Shafter Falls for good. That’s the ultimate goal.

I keep repeating this fact to myself almost as a mantra.This is temporary. This is the biggest step to finally put my teenage years to rest. When this is all said and done, I’ll be done with this place and everything that happened to me here.

Driving through downtown, I realize it looks exactly the same as I remember. I’m not surprised in the slightest though. Towns like Shafter Falls never change. They remain stuck in the past. Most of the people here have no desire to change either.

The first big change I notice is when I pull up to my old house. It’s been nine years since I last saw it, and time has not been kind. I wouldn’t be surprised if my dad hadn’t done anything to the house since I left. A lot of my teen years were spent cleaning up after him for my own benefit.

I park my car in the driveway and brace myself for a moment. My dad’s car is still sitting there, the same one he had the last time I saw him. I bet if I got in and started it up it could drive to the bar by itself and park right next to my dad’s old drinking buddies. Some things never change.

I finally get out, slinging my duffle bag over my shoulder. It’s no use sitting here and letting my anxiety grow. When I got the call and knew I was coming back to this house, I dug my old house key from a forgotten box in my closet. I’m not sure why I never threw it out, but it was useful that I didn’t.

I hopped up the porch steps, noting how they creak under my feet and I can see they’re rotting away. I’ll just add that to the laundry list of stuff I need to fix around here. I shove the key in the lock and open the door. It creaks loudly as I push it open. The air in the house smells stale, but it looks the same otherwise.

I close the door, and the air feels even more dense and claustrophobic than I remember. I let out a cough as I throw my bag down and a flurry of dust hits me in the face. Gross.

“Who the hell’s there?”

I nearly jump out of my skin as I hear the voice. There’s not supposed to be anyone else here. Goosebumps dot my arm when I realize the voice sounds like my father’s.

I tentatively step further into the house to see what’s going on. I’m not met by the ghost of my father, but instead by another ghost of my past. A man who looks too much like my dad is sitting in one of the recliners in the living room. There’s trash on the floor, piled up all around the chair.

“Jerry?” I say in disbelief. I haven’t seen my dad’s younger brother in nearly fifteen years, but the vague memories I have of him sure aren’t good. “Why are you here?”

“I live here,” he says, grumbling as he stands up to brush the crumbs off his shirt. I take a step back as he walks in my direction. “Why areyouhere? I thought you were out in some big city sucking cock or whatever you people do.”

I snort at the way he sneers, ‘you people’. Just like dear old dad, Uncle Jerry was pretty blatant about how he felt when it came to my sexuality. The last time I saw him, I was still in the closet, but I can assume my dad filled him in after the fact based on his greeting.

“I was in Denver, yeah,” I say and don’t acknowledge the rest of what he said. “But dad died without a will so… here I am.”

“What makes you think you have the right to be in this house?” He sneers at me, crossing his arms. Thankfully he stops halfway between the front door and the living room instead of coming any closer. “You haven’t been here in ten years, boy. I’ve been living here almost since you left.”

“The law, Jerry. That’s whatgivesme the right to be in this house. Dad died without a will, so the law says this house and the rest of his property are mine to deal with.” I remember even Dad said Jerry was a complete idiot, so I’m not surprised his grasp on the law is tenuous at best. “That also means you need to leave. Dad isn’t around anymore, so that means your time here is up.”

“Fat chance,” he snorts. His tone is condescending, which is pretty ironic for a guy who doesn’t have the upper hand here. “You got papers to prove that?”

“Not yet. But I’ll happily produce them for you as soon as I do. I’d start packing your bags because, after tomorrow, you’re gone.” I narrow my eyes at him. I can tell he’s trying to intimidate me, but I refuse to back down.

“Good fucking luck, Paul.” He narrows his eyes right back at me, challenging me. It strikes me how pathetic he is. “If you think some little faggot like you is going to kick me out of this house, a house that should be mine, you’re dreaming.”

“Classy as ever, Jerry,” I say, rolling my eyes. Just like my dad, he thinks it’s so clever to toss slurs around. They think I actually care if they insult me based solely on the fact that I’m gay. “I don’t think the legal process is going to find yourbrilliantargument so convincing.”

“You little shit,” he grumbles and takes another step closer to me. I hide the anxiety this gives me. I can see in his eyes that he wants to punch me or worse. I can’t put anything past him either. “You’re lucky I don’t have the energy to deal with you right now. I’ll be inmyroom, and I sure ain’t leaving.”

I watch him stalk away to the room that used to be a guest room. He slams the door intentionally loudly like a petulant child. This is just the icing on the cake. I have to add another irritating task to my list.

Tomorrow I’m going to have to look over the inheritance nonsense, create a plan for fixing this dilapidated house up, and kick my piece of shit uncle to the curb. I’m exhausted already, and I only just got to town.Fucking Shafter Falls.

3

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