Jean-Pierre looks at Jake for a few more moments and then lights up when his gaze falls to Elijah. I can practically hear his ribs crack when Jean-Pierre picks him up in a big bear hug, and after laughing for a few seconds, I place my hand on Jean-Pierre’s arm. “Hey, buddy, that’s my boyfriend. Lay off the goods.”
His smile goes up a few more watts, and he abandons Elijah for me. Fuck, I miss oxygen and an intact spine.
“I’m so happy that you… how does Scout’s dad put it? Took your thumbs out of your asses.”
That proclamation is accompanied by the rarest sound in the universe, Jake’s laughter. Jean-Pierre looks down at him with such affection that Elijah’s eyes catch mine, and we have a whole silent conversation. He gestures between the two of them, giving me the thumbs-up sign. I shake my head, to which he responds by holding up the number five.Bet, I mouth across the space, and he smiles like I personally lit him from within.
And damn, if that’s not the best feeling in the world.
Epilogue
Nick
I’m standing in front of an old storage shed in the backyard of a primly cared-for ranch house in a suburban neighborhood in Elgin, about thirty miles east of Austin. I spent this afternoon reconning the property with Roly, and we identified four security cameras and a doorbell camera, all of which have been easy to avoid or obfuscate for our purposes.
Moments away from completing our mission, I’m confronted with an old-school padlock and try to decide the best way to circumvent it. I could simply hit it with my baseball bat, but the home is occupied, and that would certainly alert the inhabitants to our presence. I hold out my bat, which Roly takes and replaces with a bolt cutter. I pocket the destroyed lock, and within seconds we are in the space, looking for our target.
The shed smells of gasoline and freshly mown grass and the sharp tang of bug bait. There are three levels of shelves that line three of the walls in the shed, and it’s clear that someone in residence has a bit of a thing for label makers.
After about thirty seconds, Roly’s eyes light up and he gives the signal. I reach out to the plain cardboard box and tentatively pull it from the shelf. It’s covered with dust and cobwebs, and a brief swipe over top reveals a yellowing, peeling label.
Elgin Funeral Home
Carter, Kathleen
Birth / Death: 12/05/50 – 01/17/19
I tamp down the anger at finding such a precious person sat next to the bug spray, and Roly hands me the urn I bought online with an anonymous gift card. We’re a little lucky that Aunt Katie’s remains aren’t a brick, given the conditions, so I’m able to pick up the entire bag liner and place her gently in the container she deserves, with minimal loss of particles. I hand her over to Roly for safekeeping, and he has the bag full of charcoal ash at the ready. I gingerly put the fake ashes in Katie’s cardboard box and slot it next to the three cans of Off! Deep Woods.
We back out of the shed, brushing our footprints from the heavy dust on the shed floor, then make our way out of the yard, avoiding the cameras.
We jog to my truck, parked half a click away, and Roly jumps into the driver’s seat. I hop into the passenger seat and look over at my cousin, who didn’t hesitate when I’d asked him to come along. “Thanks, Roly-man. You’re the best.”
“I really am, dude. I really am.”
* * *
Elijah
Nick walks in with a soft look on his face, and I’m immediately on high alert. “What happened? Is everything all right with your family?”
He smiles, nodding his head. “Yeah, babe. My family is just fine. And, uh, while I can’t say the same for you, I can give you part of it back.”
He reaches into a backpack he’s holding and pulls out a verdigris copper vase with a lid. I raise my eyebrow at him, not sure what a vase has to do with my family.
Yeah, I know.
I got there eventually.
Realizing that it’s an urn, I jump up and take Aunt Katie into my arms, hugging the vessel for all it’s worth, tears dripping down on the beautiful piece of art. When I look up at my man, words fail me.
He wipes the tears from my cheeks, his own eyes shiny. “If this is too much, you can tell me, and it’ll be fine. But… I was thinking that a few of us could get together and maybe have a memorial service, since you missed hers. Again, we don’t have—”
I place my hand on his chest, where I know he feels his deepest emotions. “I want to.”
Two days later, I hold Katie and he wraps an arm around me as we make our way into the gym. My new friends—family, really—are standing in a circle, each holding a candle. Emotions crash into me from all angles—grief, sadness, anger, relief, hope. But mostly… gratitude. I am so grateful that, in a way, I’m able to show Katie that I’m okay, and that I have a group of friends, old man Morris and his shockingly young girlfriend included, who are here to support and comfort me.
Evie says a few words, a kindness I will take with me to my own grave, and I take a few moments to tell them about who Katie was, about the night she took me in and fed me bologna sandwiches and chocolate milk while telling me that it would all be okay and that she loved me exactly as I was. I look over at Jake and Jean-Pierre, who seem to be standing on opposite sides of the circle, avoiding each other. I quietly ask Aunt Katie to send a little of her hippie magic their way. Carolina, who comes up to my chin, embraces me in a big hug. “If you ever need a mom talk, I’m just a call or text away. Okay,mijo?”
