In the Middle of Somewhere (Middle of Somewhere, #1)(116)

The service ends and Luther and the others walk off after hugging my brothers—manly, aggressive hugs, with back slaps and shoulder squeezes—and nodding uncomfortably at me. Luther shakes my hand.

Liza’s still holding Sam’s arm, but now she takes Brian’s hand too, and he leans into her like a little kid. They stand there gazing at the grave. Colin is nearly vibrating. He’s wearing a suit that’s too short in the arms and a raincoat that I recognize as my dad’s, which is tight in the shoulders. His shoes are worn and polished, now spattered with mud. Colin’s losing his shit. Crying audibly and shaking his head like it’s happening to someone else and he can’t understand it. He takes off toward a copse of trees. I shake off Rex’s arm and walk in the other direction, toward the bathroom, thinking that if I’m going to throw up I may as well do it in a toilet.

I can see Ginger take hold of Rex’s arm to stop him coming after me. Bless her.

My face and ears feel hot and flushed. Once, when I was five, just before my mom died, we went to the Jersey Shore and I played in the water all day. Brian would bury me in the sand and I’d have to break free before a big wave came. I built a sand castle and waded into the waves to pee in the water so I wouldn’t have to leave the beach. It was, I thought at the time, the best day I’d ever had. I got a terrible sunburn and my skin peeled for a week. That’s how I feel now: so full up with heat that my head is throbbing.

I make it to the bathroom and puke into the toilet. I feel like something that’s been lodged in my guts for years has come loose. Everything I said to Ginger and Rex last night was the truth. I do feel a kind of regret that I’ll never be close with my father, a kind of mourning for what could have been. But I’m also so angry that it feels like poison is coursing through my veins.

My head is throbbing and my mouth tastes like puke and I’m making a sound I don’t even recognize. In my head is only screaming. Screaming because you loved my brothers more than me even though, at first, I tried to do everything you wanted—anything to make you smile after Mom died. I tried to put on a play to distract you and you told me that only girls put on plays. I made it onto the track team and you tried to act pleased, but we both knew if it wasn’t football or basketball or hockey then you didn’t care. Screaming because you let my brothers tease me and beat the shit out of me and made me believe that was normal. Screaming because when I told you I was going to college you told me that it was a lot of money to let someone else tell me what to think. Because when I got into grad school you said, “That’s nice, son,” and never mentioned it again. Screaming because when I got my PhD, you didn’t care. Screaming because when I moved away, you couldn’t talk to me about anything except a damn car.

Screaming, screaming, screaming because when I told you I was gay—even if you never said it—you looked like you wished I were dead.

I throw up again, until there’s nothing left to come up. Acid is burning my throat and the back of my nose. I drink a bunch of water from the tap and stuff gum into my mouth that Ginger gave me earlier. She said, “Chew instead of punching.” Smart girl.

I leave the bathroom, just wanting some fresh air, and start walking in a random direction. I’m sweating, the kind of cold, oily sweat that comes with puking, and the cold air blowing through my clothes is making me shiver. Goddammit, I should go back to the grave and find Rex. I either want to f*ck him so hard I can’t think of anything else or drink until I pass out.

The smell of cold dirt clears my head a little and the breeze freezes the snap of mint in my mouth. I feel a little better and veer toward what looks like a storage shed, thinking I’ll duck inside to sit down for a second and text Rex that I’ll meet him at the truck in ten minutes. The door’s open and I walk inside.

At first, all I see is Colin’s back, shoulders shaking, and my only thought is that I should turn around and walk out, because the way Colin looked back at the grave site, if he gets me alone it won’t be good.

I don’t even notice the other figure at first because it’s so dim in the shed. Then it registers that Colin is crying on someone, someone whose arms are wrapped around my brother’s shaking form.

A man.

A man is… holding my brother. There’s no other way to describe it. A man is holding my brother gently, and Colin is clinging to him, crying his heart out.

The man is broad and taller than me and Colin—much taller. His dark eyes meet mine over Colin’s head. I can see him tense and Colin must feel the change in his body because he turns around, though the man keeps hold of his shoulder. Colin looks destroyed from crying, but when he sees me his expression changes to something I’ve never seen before. Absolute panic. And it’s so clear that I almost laugh.

“Holy f*cking…,” I start to mutter, but I can’t even get any words out. I drop into a crouch, my elbows on my knees, just looking up at Colin. With a man. My brother, who has treated me with nothing but revulsion since he found me giving Buddy McKenzie head in an alley, is gay. I can see it all in his panicked face.

Colin looks back at the man, as if he’s going to help, and then he holds out a hand to me, as if to placate. I stand up.

“Look, Dan,” he says, “don’t—”

But I throw myself at him before he can finish the thought.

“You f*cking liar,” I yell, grabbing him by the lapels of our father’s coat and dragging him close.