Dad’s hand clamped down on my shoulder as a tear trickled down my cheek. “Suck it up, a real man doesn’t show emotions.”
“What the fuck would you know about that?” I hissed hatefully. Dad’s fingers tightened on me. The warning was clear. Don’t make a scene, don’t shame the family. Screw that. I angrily shrugged Dad’s hand off me. He stood stiffly next to me, a soldier through and through. He’d never learned how to be a father. Dad may have donated his sperm, but that was all he’d done.
Mom had raised us.
She stood silently, tears spilling down her cheeks as she gazed at the coffin holding her eldest son. I didn’t know how she dared mourn him. Mom hadn’t defended Rand when he needed it most. Sheer hate nearly choked me. We looked like the perfect family; we were anything but. We were ruled by the fear of one man.
“Behave,” Dad murmured as the priest droned on about what a hero Rand was. Bull-fucking-shit again. The words the clergyman said were what they’d told him to say. He didn’t really know Rand. Just what the allegedly grieving parents informedhim. I snorted; I was nineteen and being chastised by my father like a kid. Finally, I snapped.
“Shut the fuck up!” I yelled, and everyone fell silent, stunned. I wrenched away from Dad and his control. “You don’t know Rand. None of you understand the truth. You wanna know why Rand is inside there? I’ll tell you.”
“Shut up, boy, and show respect,” Dad ground out and reached for me. I darted back out of the way.
“Rand is dead and lying there because of him and her,” I pointed at them both. Mom went white and staggered, my uncle supporting her as he turned an angry eye on me. Dad grabbed for me, and I slapped his hand away.
“Rand was gay. Dad couldn’t—wouldn’t accept that. He forced Rand to join the army to make a real man of him. Rand didn’t sign up because he wanted to. Dad threatened to beat the gay out of him, and you tried, didn’t you, asshole?” I accused.
Dad was turning puce, a sure sign his temper was on the rise.
“And you! Some Mom you are. You let Dad abuse him and force Rand into the forces. You allowed that to happen and didn’t stop him; stand up to him. Didn’t defend your son!” I yelled.
“I said shut the fuck up!” Dad roared. Guests began talking and looked between the three of us, shocked. Guilt was written all over Mom’s face, and they knew I was speaking the truth.
Dad raised his fist, and people gasped. “You can’t show reverence for a fallen soldier?”
“Rand is my brother; he had all my respect and love. It didn’t matter he was gay; he was an amazing bro and a wonderful person. What’s next, asshole? Beat me and send me to the army? That’s not happening.” I turned to the mourners. “You want to mourn Rand. Know this. He was the kindest, sweetest man I’d met. Rand would do anything for anyone—he’d have given you the shirt off his own back if you asked. Rand was funny, loving,and loyal and scared shitless of him.” I pointed at Dad, whose jaw clenched.
“Being gay isn’t a crime, nor is it shameful. Homosexuality doesn’t make people any different, although I’d say it promotes tolerance and understanding. Rand’s core personality stayed the same whether he was gay or straight. He was never hypocritical like those two. Pretending to mourn a son they didn’t accept. Those crocodile tears are just that, used to hide her true feelings of guilt and failure. You deserve them, Mom. You, above everyone, should have protected Rand. You failed miserably.”
“One last time, boy,” Dad threatened, stepping towards me. “I’m warning you.”
“Enough.” I looked up, and Rand’s commanding officer, Lieutenant ColonelYates, stepped forward. “I’ve heard plenty. You’re a disgrace.”
For a moment, I thought he meant me, and I held my ground, but he turned to Dad instead. Dad flinched.
“Cain is correct. Gay didn’t mean anything. You believed the army would beat the homosexuality out of Rand? Rand was an amazing young man whom I knew had secrets. Now I know what, and my soul is saddened by that. Gay or not, it was an honour to serve with someone so brave. You’re a disgrace to the uniform. Rand wasn’t. Now shut up while those here genuinely mourn Rand,” the Lieutenant Colonel ordered Dad, a mere staff sergeant.
Dad bristled. Angrily, he reached for me, furious that I’d aired our family’s dirty laundry. I darted away before he could do anything. I’d said what I’d needed to say, and Rand wasn’t in that coffin. Rand was safe now, free from our father’s hate. He’d have laughed hard at my confronting them here, above his grave, and would have called it karma.
I raced away through the gravestones, hid behind a tree, and leaned on a headstone. When they’d all gone, I’d go and saygoodbye my way. I patted the small bottle of whiskey hidden in my jacket. Rand would have liked that.
“That was dramatic,” a soft voice murmured. I spun around and saw a girl standing before me.
“Who the fuck are you?” I demanded.
“That’s my parents’ headstone you’re leaning on,” she said, and I hopped off the grave guiltily.
“Sorry, I meant no disrespect,” I muttered, studying her. Her eyes were red, as if she’d been crying a lot, and she seemed gaunt.
“None taken. Mom and Dad would have helped hide you after hearing all that. I’m Alicia,” she introduced herself. Alicia didn’t wait for an introduction but continued. “Guess you can’t go home after that. You pa looks angry enough to kill you.”
“Yeah. He’ll beat me black and blue, but it was worth it.”
“Where will you go?”
“Alicia, it’s his roof or the streets. The streets don’t appeal to me. Once I’m twenty, I’ve got a small inheritance given to me by my grandfather. I can make that work for me.”
Alicia looked at her parents’ grave and bent down to arrange some flowers. Despite my own grief, I noticed hers was raw, and I glanced at the date of death of her parents. It had been nine months.
