Page 76 of Courageous Hearts

Diesel’s face flushes red, from anger or embarrassment, I’m not sure. But I know he remembers slinging that same slur as our father, amongst a string of other hateful words.

“People can change,” Diesel says a little weakly.

“That’s true,” I allow. “Have you? Last I heard, you were still bein’ a dick to Cooper.”

“He’s not my brother,” Diesel throws back. I don’t even bother commenting on the implied misgendering—that I am his brother.

“He is. He and I are the same. The only reason you treat me any different is ’cause you know me. You grew up with me. But you needa realize I’m the exact same as all those other queer folks you so hate. I can’t…” I huff, frustrated. “I can’t accept you treatin’ anyone like that. I can’t accept you bein’ in my life when you don’t accept me and what I stand for, not really.”

“I…” Diesel shakes his head, seemingly at a loss.

“It’s true, though, isn’t it? You don’t wanna acknowledge I like men. I’m seein’ someone right now, in fact. Did I tell you that? His name is Jameson.”

He doesn’t answer, but I can see his leg bouncing under the table.

“And the person you see today? That’s me. This is who I am. It’s not enough to say you’ll ignore the parts you don’t like. I’m not okay with that ’cause then I’d be turnin’ a blind eye, too. And I refuse to ever be that person allowin’ bigotry to go unanswered again. I can’t.”

Diesel looks off to the side, where the school sits, leg still bouncing. The wind blows his hair, but it’s not long enough to get in his eyes, unlike my own.

“Look,” I say gently, drawing his gaze back my way. “Unless you can sit down in a room with me as I am today, Jameson or Cooper at my side, and be genuinely okay with it while we, I don’t know, have dinner or somethin’, I don’t see how we can be in each other’s lives anymore. I love you, Diesel. I always will. But it hurts me, the way you treat me. The way you treat those like me.”

He blinks, working his jaw.

“Is that somethin’ you can do?” I ask. “Can… Can you support me like that?”

He says nothing for the longest time before, finally, he shakes his head almost imperceptibly.

It’s exactly what I expected, exactly what I knew was coming, but I still have to forcibly stop a sob from climbing its way out of my throat.

“Then we’re done here,” I say, my voice rasping against the tightness of my throat.

“Wait.”

I stop halfway out of my seat, hands planted on top of the picnic table. “What?” I ask shakily.

“It wasn’t all bad, was it?” he asks, looking so lost that my sympathy flares again. “We had some good times, didn’t we? I didn’t know… I didn’t know you hated it so much. Hated me.”

I lower my weight back onto the bench, quickly swiping away a tear that sneaks loose. I have to clear my throat before speaking. “We had some good times,” I admit. “The, uh…the frogs?”

Diesel laughs, the sound a little choked. “Fuck. Dad was so pissed when we brought them home. So we hid ’em away in your locker, remember? Fed ’em. Got ’em healthy again.”

“And let them go out behind the school after the rain turned the field into a standin’ puddle.”

“Yeah,” Diesel says, a little smile on his face. He looks up at me, that smile wavering before he falls silent. “I’m sorry, y’know. I… I never meant to hurt you.”

I blow out a breath, eyes stinging. But he did. Time and time again. Unknowingly, but then fully aware of his actions, even after I’d asked him to stop. To stop calling me “Bobby,” to stop calling me “brother,” to stop calling period because each and every time ended in tears. He kept doing it.

“I’m sorry you lost your friend,” I finally say because that much is true. “If it changes, what you said before…if what you feel ’bout me, ’bout Coop, ’bout all of that changes…then you could call. And maybe then you could gain a new friend. All right?”

Diesel nods a little stiffly, his jaw tight. And even though that little flicker of hope inside my chest led me to make the offer—to not close the door between us fully—I’m not sure I truly believe anything will change. And when Diesel stands up, still stiff, his eyes a little more closed off than they were before, I know he doesn’t believe it, either.

I stand up opposite him, and for a moment, neither of us says a word, as if we both know they could be our last to one another.

Diesel is the first to speak. “Bye, Bobby. I hope you’ve found your happiness.”

Despite my attempt to stay strong, my eyes well up. I understand exactly what he’s doing. He’s truly saying goodbye to the brother he knew—to Bobby. He’s finally letting him go.

“Goodbye, Diesel. I hope you find yours, too.”

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