Page 126 of Hits Different

“You don’t know the half of it. Guess who I ran into earlier?”

“Your Dad”.

“God no, can you imagine? Then there really would be tears”, I roll my eyes, “So, I was helping Freddie pick out an engagement ring, and…”

“No, Brandon”, I follow his gaze to where a familiar figure stands by the entrance to Summit. The air whooshes out of my lungs. He raises his head and gives a half wave. “It’s your dad. He’s here”.

Chapter 47

Conversations with Ghosts

Parker

“Before you ask, I’ve got absolutely no idea what happened next”.

I feel dumb saying this out loud, even though the ghosts in this cemetery are way more real to me than most people. After Brandon and his dad disappeared for peace talks, I crashed out. Drifted in and out of sleep for most of the night, until I finally gave up at 6am. I got in the car, intending to go for a drive and clear my head.

But I carried on driving and ended up here.

I always kind of end up here. A beating heart amongst the gravestones.

My dad has a lot of neighbours. Don’t think I haven’t made up stories about them, because I have. There’s James Miller on the left; 13 November 1965 to 17thMay 2008. James died before my dad, and was a little older, so he’d be able to show him the ropes. How to be dead. How to do it properly.

Then there’s Marianne Louise Behr. Marianne’s a real matron type. Someone that bosses James and my dad around, like a formidable aunt who takes no shit, but is always there to talk to. It makes me warm to think that he’s got friends up there. That he’s not alone.

“I practically had to force Brandon out of the car. They were so close when we were kids”. I scuff my toe on the ground. “Just like we were”.

The early morning air is cool and crisp for August. The cemetery gates are padlocked but they’re easy enough to climb. I’ve been doing it for years. Father’s Day. Birthdays. We don’t go in for all of that. I only ever come here when I can be sure nobody else is around.

It fucking kills me that the headstone reflects how little money my dad had when he died. It’s even starting to crumble, right on the edges.

I’m going to buy a better one.

But now isn’t the time for that. Not when I’ve got important things to talk about. I’ve wondered what he would think about me and Brandon. Me liking guys, period. We never talked about any of that stuff. I have no idea where he would have landed on the subject, and I’m not afraid to admit that it scares me a little bit.

The priest had told me that I shouldn’t miss my dad because he’d always be with me. That he would always be watching.

“Do you already know?” I ask, “About me? Did you know when you were alive? Because I didn’t know. You could have told me”.

What about you, buddy-boy?That was his name for me. He said it in an affected New York accent; like an old-time gangster.Ready for bed there, buddy-boy? Wanna toss the football around buddy-boy?

I’ve got some bad news, buddy-boy. Come sit with me and mom for a minute.

Brandon had assured me that the priest meant it in the metaphorical sense. Because to tell a teenage boy that his father is always going to be watching over him… well, that’s an odd time in a person’s life to feel like he’s got an audience.

If you know what I mean.

“About me and Brandon”.

It starts to rain.It literally never rains here. If there’s a God, and he’s trying to fuck with me, then he’s doing a good job. But I’ve stood by this grave in heatwaves, snowstorms and hurricanes. A bit of rain isn’t going to scare me off.

“No. Can’t say I’m surprised though. You two were always a secret club with only two members”.

“It’s important that I say it out loud just to be sure”. I take a deep breath. “I’m bisexual. I hope that’s okay”.

Are you happy?

“I am when I’m with him”. I pause, “And thanks to him, I’m happier by myself too”.

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