Page 65 of Broken Chorus

Whirling, he turned to face her. “So, what, you brought me here to watch her die?”

“We asked you here to honor your dead the way you were taught,” his Aunt Kay informed him.

“Which is a fancy way of saying you called me here to arrange a funeral for someone who never wanted anything to do with me until she was on her deathbed,” Aaron snapped, feeling those old hurts and insecurities start bleeding again.

“The way I see it, you can spend the rest of your life being angry with her over things that can’t be changed, or you can be happy she chose to leave you in a stable, god-fearing home, rather than drag you around the country exposing you to god knows what.” His Gram said, regarding him coldly.

“You woke up clothed and always had food in your belly,” his aunt Kay added. “We’re all getting on in years, none of us can afford a burial, or the hospital care her stay is racking up.”

“In other words, you want me to use the money I’ve made playing the devil’s music, to bury a woman you wouldn’t even talk to me about,” Aaron said, wanting to be certain he was hearing things correctly. “I know literally nothing about her. I don’t even know what she looks like. I don’t remember one single thing about her except that she couldn’t even wait around to see if anyone was home before she left me here!”

Aaron tried not to let the memory suck him under, but it did, dragging him back to the porch, the cold wind blowing through the thin jacket and sweatpants he’d been wearing when she’d left him behind. At four years old he’d been utterly terrified of the huge house when they’d pulled up to it, and more so, when the sun started to go down, and no one let him in. He had vague memories of a stuffed dog and a battered blue backpack that held all his worldly possessions. What he remembered most was the headlights blinding him as his grandparents’ car pulled into the driveway, and the harsh way his grandfather had spoken to him, demanding to know where his mother had gone.

So much after that was a whirlwind of sound. Arguing mixed with prayers and someone fussing because he’d sat there so long he’d wet himself and now the porch would need to be cleaned. He’d eventually been fed and given a place to sleep, after he’d been given a sponge and a bucket of water with Lysol in it so he could clean up his mess. After that, turmoil and upheaval had seemed to follow wherever he went.

Funny, now that he really thought about it, he’d left the same way he’d come, with a backpack full of items and something clutched in his hands, only, it hadn’t been a stuffed animal, but his guitar.

He’d left.

Escaped.

So then why the hell did he compare everyone and every situation to these zealots who’d never seen him as a person, just his mother’s mistake, one they’d been stuck with and needed to fix? Standing there in that kitchen were so many silent meals had been consumed, Aaron suddenly found it difficult to breathe. Despite the air conditioner running full blast as it always had, the air in the house felt stifling. His legs were beginning to feel like jelly and there were slow spots drifting across his vision, a sure sign that he needed to sit down.

Instead, he gripped the back of the nearest chair, letters whirling through his mind that he struggled to form into words.

“Which hospital?” he choked out, blinking to try and clear his vision. His skin prickled, flushed with warmth, making him long to scratch until the sensation stopped. He ran his fingers through his hair to keep from digging his nails into his arms, the need to get as far away from here as he could get beginning to hit him like the first moments of a panic attack.

“There’s still only one hospital in this county, child,” his grandmother said. “Would think you knew the way there by heart, as many trips to the emergency room as you took running around getting into one bit of foolishness or another with those friends of yours.”

Regina County hospital. Yeah, he was certain he could find it with his eyes closed if need be.

He took a staggering step backwards, then another, far more steady and sure. “I’m going to see her.”

“She goes by the name Paula Jean Curtis now,” his aunt Kay said. “Don’t know nothing about the Curtis fellow she married. The nurses up at the hospital said no one had come to see her since she’d been in there so maybe he’s out of the picture now too, just like the rest of them. For all your faults I’m glad to see you haven’t been running around getting married and divorced every other week.”

“How would you know?”

“We’ve always kept track of you and those heathens you run around with,” his Gram said. “I still ask the pastor every Sunday to say a prayer that you’ll give up your wild ways.”

“Then you should know you have nothing to worry about in that regard,” Aaron said, taking another step away from her. “I’ve always preferred men a little more than women, and while I’ve dated women once or twice, there’s only one person in the world I’d ever pledge myself to, and I’m not worthy of him, not yet.”

The clank of ice let him know his grandfather was stirring again, only this time it was accompanied by the squeak of wheels that never seemed to turn right know matter how many times they were oiled.

His Pop-Pop looked as angry as ever as he wheeled across that creaky wooden floor, getting so close that Aaron took a reflexive step back to get out of grabbing range.

“So, it wasn’t enough that you ran off chasing the devil’s music, branded his images all over your body and blasphemed in the words you wrote,” Pop-Pop said as he glared up at him. “You were determined to experience every type of depravity there is.”

“The only thing I was determined to do was live.”

“What is life if it’s worth nothing!” his Pop-Pop said, his voice having taken on the strong, fervent tone it always had when he’d been preaching. “You were blessed with a beautiful voice meant to worship the Lord with and you wasted it, singing aboutwhiskey and death and sin! You were given every opportunity to do something meaningful, and instead, you spit in the face of everything we believed in. You were a stubborn, hateful, disobedient child and I rue the day you landed on my porch.”

Aaron never saw the glass flying at him until it struck him in the face and even then, he could only stand frozen and feel the sting where it hit his cheek and the cold of the water soaking through his shirt. Ice cubes clattered on the floor around his feet and all he felt was shame at drawing the man’s ire again. After all this time, Pop-pop still had impeccable aim.

“I’m sorry that you all got stuck with me,” Aaron said, fingernails biting into the palms of his hands as he clenched them, fighting back the urge to apologize for ever being born. “I’m gonna go. When everything is done here, you’ll never have to lay eyes on me again.”

He fled like the hounds of hell were after him, nearly tripping and tumbling down the stairs. He did smack himself with the car door when he wrenched it open and whipped the car around in the driveway in his haste to leave, spraying gravel and dust all over the lawn. A couple of the purple wildflowers on the lawn died too, but at least it wasn’t his Grams’ azaleas. The old lady might have been cold and distant, but those flowers had always been one of the most beautiful features in the yard, something that made the day a little brighter every time he’d walked past.

The car fishtailed where the gravel met the asphalt and he nearly overcorrected and sent the car plunging into a ditch. Heart hammering he got the nose veered away, though there was a moment when the back end dipped and the wheels spun like they couldn’t find traction. Trees, yellow lines, and houses blurred together, until it was hard to keep the car on the road. Only the knowledge that there could be kids riding bikes along that road or someone walking, got him to stop and angrily swipe at his tears.

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