Lie With Me (Stonewall Investigations Miami 2)

And then Oliver started to break down. I instantly went over to him and held him, letting him cry into my shoulder, silent tears of my own sliding down my cheek and wetting the top of Oliver’s head.

Tonight was one of those nights that would never be forgotten. One of those nights that suddenly defines an entire lifetime.

Oliver sniffled and sat up, rubbing his red eyes. He was smiling, or trying to smile at least. That was something I admired about Oliver. No matter how heavy the burden was that he carried, he always tried to manage a smile, through whatever crap he was dealing with. I rubbed away some of the tears from his cheeks, from the corners of his glistening eyes. His strength gave me strength when I needed it the most.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what happened to me,” he said, looking down, almost as if he were ashamed.

I tilted his head back up, locking eyes. “Oliver, I wouldn’t have gotten through that letter if it wasn’t for you. Thank you.”

He smiled, this time a little stronger than the last. “I just wish… I wish it wasn’t through a letter, and I know that sounds so unfair, but I just wish… that you two had more time together. To talk things through. If only a wish could change things.” Oliver shook his head. “It’s so dumb. Like a kid wishing on a star or something.”

“That’s what I love so much about you, Oliver. You’re able to stay hopeful even when there’s no hope to be found. It helps during times like these. Trust me.”

I looked out to my backyard, half of it partly illuminated by the streetlight on the other side of the flimsy fence. My heart was feeling an odd mixture of pain and relief, neither one stronger than the other.

“I never knew…” My voice felt distant, like it was coming from a stranger speaking through a static-filled phone line. “Should I have known? I never thought he was gay. And why couldn’t he just tell me? Once he found his love? Fucking hell. Why?”

Frustration was rising in me like lava through a volcano.

“I think he was ashamed. I think he was ashamed and he was trying to get the strength to push that shame away. And I don’t think he ever realized how little time he had left to gather that strength. No one ever does.”

“He could have called me.”

“So that you hang up the phone? I don’t think he wanted to risk that. It sounded like he was really sick.”

“Hell, we have Skype nowadays. He could have done anything, anything to reach me. Before he, before—fuck!”

I got back on my feet. Oliver was right. This was unfair. Here I was, a grown-ass man, feeling like I’d been cheated from time with my father, all because of what? Because of his self-imposed fears and prejudice? Because he lived in a world too cruel to accept him for who he really was, so that cruelty turned inward before being aimed directly at me?

“Beckham… I don’t… I’m not sure it would have changed anything.” Oliver’s voice was soft, but it cut through the symphony of chaos that filled my head. “He had a disease that was set on killing him. This might have been the only way he had to get it all out and have it mean something. It was out of his control, as badly as I wish it wasn’t. This letter, it’s your dad; it’s him saying sorry. It’s him saying he would be here.”

“Ten years. He was with him for ten years.”

“And have you two ever talked during that time?”

“He’s tried… Jesus. He tried calling me. Four separate times.”

“And?” Oliver asked, even though he must have already known the answer.

“I denied all four calls.” The wind fueling my rage ship sails disappeared. A fire of self-doubt and pain started up on the deck. “What if he was trying to tell me then?”

“You can’t do that.” He straightened his back, lifted his shoulders. His voice was still soft, but there was a harder edge glistening underneath his words. “What’s done is done. There’s no point in guessing how any of those four conversations could have gone. It sounds like he didn’t get the courage to be honest about it until recently, and that’s where the shame lies. But not in what you ‘could’ have done or what you ‘should’ have done, cuz neither of those things matter right now. What matters is what you’re going to do.”

I felt myself moving away from the ledge. Oliver was a guiding force, bringing me back to the rational side of things. It didn’t ease the raw pain that wedged into me like a broken dagger, stuck between my ribs and digging through all the sensitive nerves and thick muscles. No, I wasn’t sure anything except time would ease that pain.