|
The sky wept with Roger into the night. Roger had more pent-up thoughts and feelings than I could have ever possibly imagined. For hours we sat on the wet graveyard dirt, drenched by mist, and he poured his heart out. He seemed to be recalling every time he ever argued with his father, every time he disobeyed him, and everything they ever did together. It was excruciating, listening to his voice choke up with each new story, to watch his eyes go glassy over and over, and I didn�t know what to say or what to do. I let him talk. It seemed to help. �My father was a rapist, you know,� he said blandly, for he was rambling mindlessly now, it seemed. I gasped, and he quickly added, �My real father, I mean. He raped my mom and she had me, even though she didn�t want to. My own mother hated me. Isn�t that a wonderful thing to know about yourself?� Nothing I could say, nothing I could do, nothing but listen and cry with him and watch his face over my kneecaps. I had my knees against my chest, and I hugged them for warmth, just watching him and shaking my head and wanting this to all end. �So my real father�s in jail and my adopted father is dead, and my entire world is falling apart. That�s just fucking wonderful.� He sighed deeply, running a hand through his slick wet hair. �I should go home,� he said. �Yeah, your mom was worried about you�� I said slowly. �She called me and asked me to find you.� �I can�t stand to be around her,� he admitted guiltily. �I-it just makes me feel worse because she�s more concerned about how I feel than how she does. She lost the husband she loved, but she just keeps asking if I�m okay, if I�m sad.� He sighed deeply, cold breath steaming out his nostrils for such a long time I wondered if his lungs would collapse. �And she has no idea. She doesn�t know about the argument I had with Dad before the game�and how can I tell her? How can I tell her that the last thing I told my father was �fuck you�? It�s bad enough that I�m going to think about that every day for the rest of my life, but I�m afraid that if I tell her, it will only make her sadder. �I just�don�t know what to do�� He trailed off. Then his eyes closed, and a wry smile curled in the corners of his mouth. �I could so use a drink right about now.� He stood up, brushing mud unsuccessfully from his jeans, and put out a hand to help me up. I took it, and he pulled me to my feet. �You must be so cold,� I remarked, just to say something. �Frozen,� he agreed. He put his hands in his pocket, and we walked slowly across the saturated ground, skirting deep puddles and formless mud. We reached the hideously cold, wet, wrought iron gate, and I went through, but Roger stopped, a hand on the rusting black metal, and looked back at his father�s grave. Bye, Dad, said his soundless lips. I wasn�t sure if I was supposed to see that. I looked away. �Do you need a ride home? It�s really dark�what time is it anyway?� he said, heading to his car. �9:30,� I supplied, with a small grin. �Thanks, but I have my bike. Don�t think it�ll fit on Dolores. I�ll be okay, I�ve ridden in the dark before.� �If you say so,� he murmured, shrugging, and got into the driver�s seat. �Hey, Arik?� he called timidly, and I came over to the small window and leaned against it. �Don�t tell anyone what I told you tonight, okay? Especially not what I said about not believing in God. It�d devastate my mother if she found out.� I tapped my chest with my fist. �It�s all safe with me, I promise.� �Sorry I made you sit through all that,� he said, referring to the past several hours. �Thanks, though.� �For God�s sake, Roger!� I said, grinning. �You don�t have to apologize for things like that�this is me, remember? Anything you need from me, I�ll do, anything. �And if you ever need to talk about it more, call me, and I don�t care if it�s 3 AM.� As an afterthought, to lighten the mood I added, �Though my parents might, so�� He smiled, and I pulled back out of the window and walked to my bike. Roger leaned out the window, looking after me. ��Be careful, man, okay?� he called uneasily. I gave him a thumbs-up as I put my helmet on and brushed water off the seat. He started up his car and left. I rode home slowly in the dark, feeling wet, achy, and exhausted. My heart felt raw and sore, like my leg muscles had after the game. I needed to sleep, to close my eyes and leave this world for a few hours, to escape and relax. Plus, I had school tomorrow. School�how out of place it seemed in a situation like this, how rude and insensitive a notion. But sleep would be good. I got home, briefly answered my parents� inquiries, smacked Harry when he chirped obnoxiously on my way to the bathroom, showered, and went to sleep.
Roger was never the same after his father�s death. |