now he’s got his revenge on us.”

I stare at him, not sure I heard that right. “James - what are you talking about?”

He slides down the car and sinks to the ground. Somewhat unsettled, I sit down by his side, waiting

for him to explain. There’s a strange expression on his face, a deep pain in his eyes that seem so distant.

He doesn’t even look like the James I know right now, and I admit that might freak me out if I didn’t

care so much about this guy.

“I’ll tell you what I’m talking about,” James says tonelessly, strangely calm in a way that’s almost

scary. “I’m talking about the day that changed my life forever.” He trails off and stares at the remains of

his house again, transfixed like he can see the events of the past unfold again before his eyes right now.

“I don’t remember exactly when Mom started to drink. I think I was about seven. That’s when things

got really bad some nights. Simon couldn’t stand the drinking. It made everything much worse.

Everything had to be in perfect order all the time. And when we failed at that…” He trails off and just

stares into the distance for a long moment.

“I was sixteen when it happened. I’d been trying to talk Mom into leaving Simon all summer, but

she wouldn’t. She thought he would never let us leave, no matter where we ran to, and I know now that

she was right. But back then I still thought we had to try. So one weekend when he was on a fishing trip

with his buddies, I packed our bags. I didn’t even ask Mom, I just did.” He sighs. “I bet you know how

the story goes. I couldn’t get Mom to leave, and Simon came home early. Saw our bags all packed by

the door.” James pauses, as if trying to force memories back to light that he’s been suppressing for

years. “I… I don’t remember much of it. But he had her on the ground and he was choking her when I

came downstairs. And I knew for sure he was gonna kill her this time. And… everything kind of

happened really fast. I remember that I grabbed the baseball bat that was leaning by the door. I’d always

hated the stupid thing, but Simon had made me join a team all the same. He loved baseball, you know. I

hated it. I sucked at it. And he hated me for sucking at it. I’d been meaning to leave that damn baseball

bat behind… I think I must have swung, and I’m pretty sure I hit him on the side of his head. It’s… it’s

kinda blurry somehow. I don’t remember the impact, only the swing. Then he was on the ground, and

someone was screaming for him to leave… maybe it was me screaming. And then he staggered out and

was gone, and we heard the car start, and he drove off.”

He exhales, as if talking has taken a lot of physical effort, and I don’t doubt that it must feel like that.

I don’t dare say a word. Shocked as I am, I need him to tell me the rest. Somehow this wants out right

now, and all I can do is to witness, and listen.

It takes a long moment before James continues. “The police knocked on our door about an hour later.

They said Simon was in the hospital, in a coma. He’d gone to his favorite bar. He had slipped on the

stairs to the restroom and fallen all the way down. I know those stairs. They’re long, steep. Cracked his

neck and broke his back, they said, amongst other injuries. But I knew the truth. I knew it was my

doing. The way that I’d hit him… he must have had a concussion. I know that’s why he slipped and fell.

He wouldn’t have otherwise. He wouldn’t have. He never woke up again. He died two days later. And

it’s all my fault.”

I shake my head vehemently. “James, this is bullshit. It wasn’t your fault. None of it was.”

He looks at me with empty eyes that spook me. “Everything was my fault, Danny. If I hadn’t packed

our bags, if I hadn’t…”

“You saved your Mom’s life, James. You did the only right thing. Damn it, in my book that makes

you a hero.”

“No,” he insists, taken aback and shaking his head. It’s like he’s not even really here, but in his own

world, his own hell. “And Mom made me promise afterwards. That I would never tell a soul about the

fight with Simon. They thought all his wounds were from the fall. Pretty convenient, right? And she

didn’t want anything bad on my record.”

“Oh Jimmy. There wouldn’t have been. Don’t you see? What you did was self-defense. It’s Simon’s

own fault he fell. You know that. Tell me you know that.”

Finally he looks at me again, and his eyes are so full of pain. He shakes his head. “No. No, that’s not

true. That’s not…”

I pull him close and the rest of his words get muffled on my shoulder. It sounds like he can’t breathe,

choking on the tears he can’t cry. I want to give him space, but he clings to me. I hold him tight when at

last a few reluctant tears fall, hot and wet on my neck, and I hold him even tighter when his body starts

to tremble with an anguish I can only imagine, but never share, as much as I wish I could to make this

easier. To take off some of that massive load this boy has been carrying around. I whisper soft words

into his ear, soothing words, reassuring words. I don’t stop for as long as it takes for him to become

calmer again. All of that self-loathing suddenly makes so much sense. Everything about him makes so

much sense. And I know in this moment that I couldn’t love the guy more than I already do. He is

everything to me now.

I’m trying my best to understand why he’s so insistent that he’s the one to blame for Simon’s death.

Especially when it’s so obvious that he did the only right thing, protecting his mom and chasing that

bastard out of the house. I would have done it, everyone with at least a trace of courage in their bones

would have done the same thing. None of what happened after than was his responsibility. Simon was a

grown man, and he should have known better. How stupid do you have to be to go straight to a bar and

drink with a possible concussion? He should have gone to the emergency room instead. It’s almost like

he wanted this to happen, to make James believe that he had blood on his hands. To haunt him for the

rest of his life. My fists clench and I almost wish that bastard weren’t dead, so I could have a little heartto-

heart with him. If you ask me, what happened to Simon that day was instant karma. Payback for the

life full of misery he had given to his family. Retribution. I only wish James could see it that way.

Maybe some day, I’ll be able to show him a different perspective. But I know it will be a long way. And

maybe he never will.

I try to see myself in James’ shoes, severely abused by the man who came into my family as the dad

I’d been missing all my life. I try to imagine what it must have been like, trying to please Simon, but

unable to keep his violent temper in check, no matter what I did. Always doing everything wrong in his

eyes. I am a queer, and he hates me for that fact alone. I’m not the athlete he wants me to be. I’m not the

son he expects me to be. I am a failure. I try to please him still, and deep down I just really want him to

like me. I hope things will get better. I hope Mom will stop drinking. I hope we’ll get some help, but

there is none. People look the other way, and we’re too scared to say it aloud. Simon’s a hero to the

community. Nobody would believe us anyway. There’s no getting out of this situation. And the one day

I find the courage to try, everything goes horribly wrong. I almost get my Mom killed. And I give

Simon the concussion that leads to his death. I am a horrible person. I hate myself for what I’ve done.

People should stay away from me. I’m no good. I may seem free now, yet I’ll never be free. There’s noone