Nash
I’m hovering in the living room, hoping to catch Zade alone for a few minutes to give him a heads up about tomorrow.
June third, the worst day of the year for Royal. Normally it’s all on me to be there for my best friend and get him through the day. I can’t deny I’m hoping that I’ll have back-up in Zade this year. Not that I can’t take care of Royal, but I’m not above getting extra help from the right person.
Around midnight Zade emerges from Royal’s bedroom alone.
“Hey, man, can I talk to you for a second?” I whisper, keeping an eye on Royal’s door to make sure he’s not right behind Zade. Not that I think I’m doing anything wrong by letting Zade know about tomorrow.
Zade’s eyebrows furrow and he silently makes his way over to me near the couch.
“So, I don’t know if Royal told you what tomorrow is?”
“No, he didn’t mention anything,” Zade shakes his head, a frown tugging at the corners of his lips.
“It’s the anniversary of his mother’s death,” I confide.
“Oh, shit. Is there anything you usually do for him? Anything he needs from me?”
“Usually we go to the cemetery and then he gets hammered. I think it would help him a lot to have you with us.”
“Of course, I’ll be here first thing in the morning,” Zade assures me, concern still lacing his soulful eyes.
“Thanks, it means a lot.”
“Any time.” Zade puts a hand on my shoulder and it feels like it’s searing me through my shirt. It takes everything in me not to lean into his touch. My eyes linger on his downturned lips for a few extra seconds before I force myself to step away from him.
“Well, goodnight.”
“Night.”
Royal
For a second when I wake up I don’t realize what day it is. For a few wonderful moments I just lay there in my too big bed and think about my fun, sexy boyfriend and how lucky I am for everything in my life. It takes me a minute to work out why there’s a sudden sadness settling in my gut.
It’s June fucking third. My heart clenches and my stomach roils. Even nearly a decade since she died I can still remember it like it was yesterday.
I was over at Nash’s house when the police car pulled up in front of my house two doors down. I only happened to notice because I’d been looking out Nash’s bedroom window, trying not to watch him change his clothes.
“Dude, there’s a cop at my house.”
“What?” Nash came up behind me, half naked, with no regard for my personal space.
There was no pleasure in the heat of his body against mine, though, because every ounce of my focus is on not freaking out. I couldn’t think of one good reason for a cop to be at my house. And, for a few seconds I truly hoped my father had died and the police were there to tell my mom.
I felt shitty for wishing he was dead, even as the words were going through my mind. However, the alternative was far worse.
“You want me to walk over there with you and see what’s going on?”
I nodded wordlessly. My mom was supposed to be at work. Nothing bad could’ve happened to her.
Nash pulls on a shirt and puts a hand on my shoulder, leading me out of his room, down the stairs, and out the front door.
My body was numb, my mind sputtering, as we approached the police officer.
“This is my house,” I said stupidly.
The police officer eyed me with pity and my stomach did a violent swoop.
“I’m here about Maryanna Helms…”
I didn’t hear the rest of what he said over the blood rushing in my ears. Nash’s arms came around me and anchored. As he whispered over and over that he was there for me.
The rest of that day, actually the rest of the week, was a complete blur.
She’d gotten off work early and was on her way home when she was t-boned by a drunk driver. The asshole hadn’t even stayed at the scene of the crime. Red light cameras caught him though, and the police had him in custody the next day. That didn’t bring my mom back. That didn’t fix the fact that my poor, beautiful mother was so mangled we had to have a closed casket funeral.
A light knock on my bedroom door pulls me from my thoughts. I wipe the back of my hand across my eyes to gather the moisture that was starting to form there.
Nash’s head peeks in. He gives me a sympathetic smile and then holds up a plate and mug that he’s carrying.
“You don’t have to baby me,” I argue, even as I reach out to accept the coffee and what appears to be a Danish.
“Shut up and let me be nice to you,” Nash scolds before crawling onto the bed beside me and putting an arm around my shoulders as I pick at the pastry he brought.
“Will you go with me to the cemetery today?”
“Of course,” he agrees without hesitation, and without pointing out that he has gone with me every year on this date for the past seven years.
He lets me sit in silence, leaning against him to absorb his comfort while I drink my coffee. I don’t know what I would do without Nash.
A few minutes later I hear a knock and then the front door open.
“In my bedroom,” I call out.
“What if I’d been a murderer?” Zade asks, popping his head in.
“If you were a murderer you were already in the house anyway,” I respond with a shrug.
The brief flash of pity that mars Zade’s smirk tells me that at some point Nash got to him and told him what today is. I want to be annoyed, but at the same time I’m glad I don’t have to tell Zade myself.
Zade climbs onto the bed on my other side. Once he’s situated he gives me a kiss on the shoulder and puts his arm around my waist. To my surprise, Nash doesn’t change his position at all and for a few brief moments on this horrible morning it feels like something in the universe is clicking into place.
I gaze over the miles of manicured lawn, interrupted by rows of headstones. Cemeteries always seemed like a waste of space to me. Just a place to keep decaying bodies that no one ever comes to visit.
Nash and Zade flank me through the grounds, a few steps behind, not forcing any conversation.
I reach the fifth headstone in the third row of the back left corner of the cemetery. Maryanna Helms: loving mother.
I drop to my knees in the damp grass and reach out to run my fingers along the smooth marble of the headstone.
“Hi, mom,” I say, barely above a whisper. “Sorry I haven’t been to visit lately. But, uh, you’re not here and I’m just talking to a really expensive slab of carved rock so can you blame me?” I let out a weak laugh. “My life isn’t too different than I told you about last year. I’m still working at Heathens, and still living with Nash. I’m seeing a new guy, so that’s a big change. You’d like him. He’s really hot, even if he is kind of dumb.”
“Hey,” Zade protests from behind me and I laugh.
“Dude, don’t listen in on my conversation from beyond the grave, it’s rude.”
Zade’s hand lands on my shoulder and then he crouches down beside me, looking at my mom’s headstone.
“It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Helms. You raised a good man, I know you must be proud of him.”
I put my hand over his and give it a squeeze of thanks.
“Let’s go home and get wasted,” I suggest, getting to my feet.
“Now we’re talking,” Zade agrees.
Zade
“Why don’t you have some water,” Nash suggests, handing Royal a cup in exchange for his empty tumbler.
Royal takes the water without argument and sips it, although his pouty face tells a different story.
When Nash turns around I refill Royal’s water glass with rum and shoot him a conspiratorial wink.
“Do you want to tell me about your mom?” I offer.
“She was the best,” he says, his words slightly slurred. “She had to work a lot after she kicked my dad out, but she always did her best to make time for me. When I was thirteen I told her I liked boys and she looked me right in the eye and said ‘I’m going to tell you the same thing I would’ve told you if you liked girls. Treat anyone you date with respect, and demand the same in return’. And that was that.”
“That’s a good mom,” I agree, tilting my head to rest it on Royal’s shoulder.
“Were your parents cool when you came out?”
“Yeah, they didn’t have much to say about it. They weren’t religious or anything, just really focused on success, so as long as it wouldn’t impact my career goals they couldn’t have cared less.”
“I care about you,” Royal offers, kissing the top of my head.
“I know,” I assure him.
“I need to pee,” Royal announces, standing up from the couch with all the grace of a newborn calf.
Nash watches Royal’s every step with a concern that makes me warm all over. I love how much he cares for Royal. It must be nice to have someone always looking out for you like that. I let myself imagine for a second how it would feel to know Nash was worried about my wellbeing.
When Royal returns from the bathroom it’s clear that it’s about time to put him to bed.
“Come on, time to get you to bed,” I stand and hold a hand out for him.
Royal crosses his arms and glares defiantly like a six-year-old.
“I’m not tired.”
“Stop acting like a jackass,” I chide, “you’re drunk, as soon as your head hits the pillow you’ll be tired.”
Royal’s expression slowly morphs from insolent to what I can only assume is meant to be alluring, but in his drunk state it’s mostly comical.
“What if we go to bed, but we don’t sleep?”
“Dude, you’ve consumed enough alcohol to drown a horse. If you can even get it up, I’ll give you five bucks.”
“You’re on,” Royal bristles at the challenge and stumbles toward his bedroom.
“Good luck with that, drunk Royal is a handful,” Nash warns.
“I’m going to wait a few minutes to go in after him, I’m betting by then he’ll be passed the fuck out.”
Nash nods.
“Thanks for being here for him today, I know it meant a lot to him.”
“I could say the same to you,” I say, placing a hand on Nash’s shoulder. The overwhelming urge to wrap my arms around him and just feel his body against mine, washes over me. And, the way Nash’s body is sagging toward me, I almost get the feeling he might welcome it.
As if suddenly realizing what he’s doing, Nash clears his throat and takes a big step back from me.
“Let me know if you need anything, I’m going to get to bed,” he says before turning and heading straight for his bedroom.
“Night,” I call after him.
As predicted, by the time I get into Royal’s bedroom he’s fast asleep, still fully clothed. I strip him down to his t-shirt and briefs before climbing in beside him and going to sleep.