Bittersweet, Part 2

Catherine is weeding her garden when she hears someone walk up to the house. “Probably one of the neighbourhood children coming to ask me to sponsor them for something...” she thinks as she puts her trowel down and makes her way toward the sound. As she rounds the corner of the house, she stops in her tracks. A young man with blond hair is standing at the front door, about to knock. She has seen him before – he is one of Bradley’s friends. She clears her throat, and he turns towards her. “Oh, Mrs. Gibson... hi...” he stammers uneasily. “Hello,” she answers with reserve, wondering what he is doing in her yard. “I don’t know if you remember me, but my name is Erik Moore... I’m a friend of Brad’s.”

Erik runs his hand through his hair, not knowing how to tell this woman that her son is dying. Seeing his hesitation, Catherine automatically assumes the worst. “Is he alright?” she asks in a panic. “He doesn’t have long, Mrs. Gibson. He misses you, and I know that seeing you one last time would give him some peace.” Erik pauses at the stricken expression on Brad’s mother’s face. “I’m not here to tell you what to do; I’m just letting you know what’s going on. I don’t know how long he’s going to last, maybe a few days... The nurse said a week, at the most.” Erik doesn’t even realize that he is crying. “That’s all I wanted to say...” He turns and leaves Catherine where she stands, tears streaming down her face and her legs feeling weak.

Erik is trembling as he walks away from the house where Brad grew up. “What kind of woman abandons her son when he needs her the most?” he wonders, outraged. “He doesn’t deserve that. No one deserves that! I can’t believe he’s dying... He’s suffered so much, maybe he’ll be better off...” So many emotions course through him at the same time that it is difficult for him to make sense of them all, his thoughts a muddled blur.

***

“Marshall, you can’t tell me that you’re unaffected by the fact that your son is dying!” Catherine rages. She is pacing the length of the kitchen, trying to walk off some of her anger. Her husband looks at her coldly. “I don’t have a son,” he states calmly. Catherine stops her pacing to face Marshall. “How can you possibly be so cold?” she demands, aghast. “I don’t care what you say; he’s your flesh and blood. Yours and mine,” she says with passion. “Whatever situation he’s in, he got himself into. He chose to be who he is,” Marshall declares, his voice no longer calm. Becoming increasingly enraged, he slams his fist onto the kitchen counter. “Dammit, Catherine! You know what I went through with my father and Samuel! I won’t go through that again!” he bellows. His breath comes in quick, short bursts as he suffers sharp stabs of pain. Marshall clutches at his chest, looking at his wife with alarm. Forgetting her anger, Catherine helps him to the sofa and calls an ambulance.

***

Every breath is a chore. Every limb hurts. Every touch is torture. “Please, God, no more...” Brad pleads silently. Through the haze of agony, he senses the presence of Asia and Erik. They are sitting on either side of his bed, each holding one of his hands. Asia wipes the perspiration from his forehead with a damp cloth. He is trying to speak but his mumblings are incomprehensible. “Shh... Hun, it’s ok,” she whispers softly, rubbing his hand, which is growing colder. “You can let go... you’re going to be in a place where there is no pain, and you’ll be there with Chris,” says Erik, ignoring the tears running down his face. Asia is crying quietly. She knows that Brad is going to a better place, but that doesn’t make letting him go any easier.

For a moment, the haze lifts and he sees his friends perfectly. Sees their tears, their pain. Sees their love. “I love you guys,” he gasps, squeezing their hands. “Be happy for me... that I’ve had such a full life... tell my parents that I love them...” Every word is an effort, each more difficult to say than the last. He closes his eyes again, all his strength spent. “I love you,” Asia says, kissing his cheek. “I’ll never have another friend like you,” Erik whispers, clasping his hand more tightly. Brad takes a long rasping breath, shudders as he exhales, and his chest stops moving. The room is completely silent, but for the ticking of the ticking of the kitchen clock which can be heard faintly.

Erik and Aja are still, silent tears flowing down their cheeks, both unable to believe that it’s over. Just like that, the life has left Brad’s body in one single breath. They sit there for a long time, unwilling to let go of Brad’s hands, because that would make it real. And there’s nothing they would like more than to wake up in their beds, the whole thing being a terrible nightmare. Suddenly a sob escapes Asia’s chest, and the floodgates open. “No,” she whispers, “no, it can’t be true...” She begins to sob violently, her body convulsing. She slides off her chair and slumps onto the floor in a heap. Erik gets up slowly, still in shock, and makes his way to her side of the bed.

Going down onto his knees, he takes Asia into his arms and rocks her. She puts her arms around his torso and holds onto him tightly, as though he can protect her from the awful truth. They cry together, refusing to let go. Asia and Erik stay there so long that darkness is falling outside. When they are finally ready to face reality, Asia’s practicality takes over and she calls an ambulance to take Brad away. She and Erik stay with him until the ambulance gets there, then she calls Brad’s parents to tell them what has happened.

***

Catherine is walking out the door with the intention of finally visiting her son, when the phone rings. She is tempted to ignore it and leave, but with Marshall resting upstairs, she decides to answer so that he won’t need to get up. “Mrs. Gibson?” a strained female voice asks. “Yes, it’s me,” she says, panic rising at the tone of the woman’s voice. “I just wanted to tell you that...” The woman’s voice catches as a sob escapes her. “I’m calling to tell you that Brad just died.” A scream tears itself from Catherine’s throat as the telephone falls from her hand and she collapses to the floor.

***

Catherine enters the room with Marshall. She wills herself to make her way toward the coffin, leaving her husband by the door. Walking slowly, she takes deep breaths to calm the rising dread. When she arrives beside her son’s coffin, her heart breaks. “My poor baby, so young...” she thinks as she touches his face. It doesn’t feel like him, so cold and lifeless. “I’m so sorry, Sweetheart; I should have gone to see you sooner... I miss you so much,” she whispers through the sobs that are now bursting from her.

Marshall stands by the door, refusing to go near the coffin. As far as he is concerned, he had no son. He wants to comfort Catherine, but that would require him seeing him. Laying eyes on Bradley would remind him of the greatest shame of his life – having a son like that. His brother being one of them was one thing, but his son as well? That was just too much. Brad had always been strange, even as a child. Marshall had hoped it was just a phase, that he would outgrow it. Strangeness he could accept... But then Brad came home during Christmas break of his third year of university and told them the last thing Marshall wanted to hear.

***

It was a cold clear day with snow everywhere. Marshall and Brad were shovelling the driveway from the remnants of the snowstorm that hit the day before. “Listen, Dad, I need to tell you something...” said Brad in a nervous voice. Marshall looked curiously up at his son. “I don’t really know how to say it... I’ve wanted to tell you for a long time. I don’t want to hide who I am anymore, so I want you to know the truth.” Dread hit his stomach – this couldn’t be good news. “I’m gay, Dad,” Brad said quietly. Marshall’s world was crumbling. “Are you sure?” he demanded. “Yes, of course,” replied his son. Marshall turned away from his son and walked into the house. Brad followed, trying desperately to understand what was happening. He’d known his father would react badly, but this was not what he had expected. He was ready for yelling and cussing, but this silence scared him more than either of those.

That night, Marshall and Catherine had a huge fight. Catherine kept trying to defend Brad while Marshall refused to hear about it. “I don’t want his kind in my house! He had better be gone first thing in the morning, or I will throw his things out myself!” he raged. Catherine wept in desperation. “Marshall, he’s your son! How can you turn him away just because of this? The fact that he’s homosexual doesn’t change who he is!” she cried. “DON’T USE THAT WORD IN THIS HOUSE!” he roared. Catherine went up to talk to Brad, asking him to leave in the morning. He left when his parents were asleep, and Marshall never spoke to his son again.

***

“I can’t believe I let Catherine drag me here,” thinks Marshall, tugging at his tie. He is sitting in a pew, in the little church where Brad was baptised, with his wife at his side. The church is so full that people are standing against the back wall. Catherine, who is devastated, doesn’t notice her husband’s reticence. He holds her hand while she cries quietly. The funeral service is being performed by the same priest who married Marshall and Catherine over thirty years ago. As he listens to the details of his son’s life, Marshall learns what an impact he’s had on Brad, who followed in his father’s footsteps to become a lawyer, despite their falling out. He tries to distance himself from what he is hearing, telling himself that he has no son but having more and more difficulty believing it.

Asia and Erik stand to read the eulogy that they have written. They tell of all the trials and tribulations that Brad has faced in his life, and how he had overcome them all with incredible strength and grace. “When Chris died, we thought that would be the end of him, but he was so strong. It was difficult, but he surmounted that too,” said Asia. Marshall was struck with sympathy that he did not understand. “I didn’t know he lost his partner...” he thought, then tried to convince himself that he didn’t care because it was unnatural that they had been together in the first place. He sighed, still trying to deny that he had a son, and that he was affected by his death. Marshall put his arm around Catherine and held her close, telling himself that it was only to comfort her.

***

My dearest son,

I am writing to you to ask your forgiveness and to explain certain things, although I realize it is too late. I was not the mother you needed me to be. In the moments when you needed me most, I abandoned you. Instead of being there with you, as I should have been. I chose to placate your father.

There is a lot about your father that you don’t know. Your father has a brother, your uncle Samuel. He is homosexual too, and was disowned by your grandfather. Your grandpa could never let go of his shame at having a gay son, and placed an enormous amount of pressure on your father. Whenever your father disappointed his dad, he was accused of being just like Sam. That’s why your dad couldn’t accept that you were gay; it reminded him of his brother and his father, of the abuse he suffered at the hands of his dad. I’m not making excuses for him, I’m just telling you the truth.

I was about to go see you when your friend called to tell me that you passed away. I couldn’t believe it. I regret so many decisions I have made when it comes to you. I should have fought your father harder to keep you in the house that night when you told him you were gay. I should have taken the time to get to know your Chris. If you loved him as much as you seemed to, he must have been a great person. I should have been there for you when he died. I should have been there for you. Please forgive me.

I love you, Bradley, and I always will.

I miss you,

Mom xox

***

The five of them stand around the freshly dug grave, the coffin hovering above it in a harness. Erik and Asia hold hands, drawing support from each other’s presence. Catherine, who keeps dissolving into tears, is being supported by Marshall, who holds her in his arms. They are standing across the casket from their son’s friends. Erik fights the temptation to tell Brad’s father to leave. “Fucking hypocrite,” he mutters. Asia looks at him questioningly, but he just shakes his head, letting her know it isn’t important. The priest, standing at the end of the coffin, says a few prayers over the casket. He nods to the four others, letting them know that it is time for them to say their last goodbyes before Brad is buried.

Asia and Erik each place a white rose on the coffin. Asia kisses her fingers and brushes them on the casket. “Be free,” she whispers. “We’ll miss you, buddy,” says Erik, fresh tears making their way down his face. They step back together and wrap their arms around each other. Catherine and Marshall step toward the coffin and Catherine places an envelope next to the roses. Marshall stands by her side, as stone-faced as ever. “Heartless bastard,” thinks Asia, who is bitter that this man who abandoned his son shows no remorse. The only thing keeping her from voicing her fury is her respect for Brad. This ceremony is a goodbye to her best friend, and she refuses to desecrate it by making a scene.

The coffin is being lowered slowly into the ground. Brad’s best friends already feel the great void left in their lives by his absence. Seeing his casket being brought down to be buried makes it more final, more real. “Watch over us, Brad, we still need you,” pleads Erik quietly. Catherine puts her arms around herself, the regret weighing heavily on her heart making her feel cold. Her eyes are dry, having spent their reserve or tears for the moment. She stares at the coffin with haunted eyes, unable to believe that her son is in the box being lowered. Marshall watches emotionlessly as the coffin makes its descent. Suddenly, something inside him gives way. “My boy, my son, is dead... he’s really gone...” he thinks with bitter regret, a single, solitary tear tracing its way down his wrinkled face.