“You gonna be okay, kid?” I glance over my shoulder to where Vic stands just outside the patio door. The sun set hours ago. Like my mood, all that is left is darkness. Today was harder than I expected. For years, I wished my parents would disappear, but the reality of it isn’t anywhere near as sweet as I had imagined.

Nobody came to the funeral. We kept it from the press. I only did it for the boys’ sake, wanting them to have something normal for once in their lives. People die and you have a funeral…that’s what regular people do. The irony of that thought almost makes me laugh. They’ve never known normal. If they had, they wouldn’t have stood in a cold graveyard this afternoon, watching as their junkie parents were lowered in the ground.

Hopefully one day, they’d only be left with the closure that comes with the memory of putting their parents to rest and forget about all the shitty things they’d heard and seen in their short lives.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” I finally answer.

“You sure about that?” He slides into the seat next to me.

“I’d come to terms years ago that they’d never be part of my life.” Although, after seeing their coffins lowered into the ground today…it was clear I held out hope for Matt and Brandon.

“Doesn’t mean it doesn’t affect you. I know how that is. I’ve lost a lot of people in my sixty-four years. Even when you can rationalize it, hell even when you ask for it, it can still get to you.”

I take a deep breath. I know Vic has seen his fair share of loss: his wife Judy, his parents, and countless kids he’s pulled from the streets, only for them to find their way back into trouble. I did more than ask for this, I wished for it—over and over. I’m not ready to admit to that.

“Thanks, old man.” Needing to change the subject, I sit back wrapping my hand around his neck and squeezing, playfully.

“Don’t old man me…I can still take you down, kid. And don’t you forget it.” He laughs, punching me in the side as I feign pain from his blows. “You got a nice place here,” he says, his eyes raking the length of the long patio that covers the entire backside of my house. I bought the place last year, but never have anyone over.

“Thanks.”

“You and those boys got a shit hand dealt to you, but now you have the chance at making their lives a lot better.” He nods over his shoulder where I left Matt and Brandon inside watching a movie on the large screen television.

I think about his comment and laugh to myself. “I don’t know the first thing about raising kids.”

“You don’t have to. You just have to love them. If you do that, and I know you do, then the rest is easy. You protect them from all the dangers in the world.” His face tilts my direction. “Sometimes that’ll mean protecting them from you.”

I nod, understanding that I’m not the most stable. I glance over my shoulder when the door opens and Smith walks out, holding three beers in his hand. He hands one to Vic and I before lowering in a chair. “The boys are knocked out in there, looking comfortable as hell on that big ass couch.”

“They should. They’re home now.” I smile, liking the sound of that. We sit in silence for a few minutes, just three men enjoying a beer together. I try to push aside the memory of Matthew and Brandon’s stoic faces as those coffins lowered.

“Anything out of Brandon about what he saw that night?” Smith asks, being the first to address the elephant in room.

“No. Shirley said there’s a chance he won’t ever talk about it. She said he might not even remember it. I don’t really understand it. It’s like memory suppression or something…” My mind shifts to images of what it must have looked like when the poor kid came downstairs.

“If he blocks it out enough, pushing it to the back of his mind, he won’t remember it all, even if he tries,” Smith says, finishing my statement.

“Yeah, that’s it,” I say. “She said that could happen or it could fuck him up, too. It’s a wait-and-see kind of thing. As much as I wish he didn’t see anything, I’m worried he did and just won’t talk about it. He’s been quiet.”

Smith nods, then takes a long pull on his beer. We fall into an uncomfortable silence, none of us knowing what to say.

“So how about that birthday you have coming up?” Vic smiles, changing the subject.

“Yeah, the big twenty-eight. What do you want to do to celebrate it?” Smith sits up, putting his empty bottle on the table.

I look over my shoulder to where the boys are passed out on the couch. “I’d like to have dinner…here.”

“Like grill or something?” Smith asks. It’s nothing like anything I’ve ever done or even suggested. On the rare occasion when I’ve celebrated my birthday, it usually involved alcohol and a pussy or two—never family.

“Yeah, I’ll have to buy a grill, but…yeah, that’s what I’d like to do.” I smile.

“I love that idea. You better watch out kid, Judy used to call me the grill master in my younger years,” Vic says, standing up. “I have to hit the road. It’s late and some of us older folks have to work for a living.” He winks before walking toward the door. He turns back around. “How about I buy you a grill for your birthday? You’re one of the hardest son of a bitches to buy for.” He chuckles, disappearing into the house before I can respond.