Dark Star - 11. Chapter 11

All the lights flicker and go off at the same time. It's the middle of the day, so it hardly makes any difference, even though the library windows don't let in much sunlight at this hour. It turns out that without electricity, we're just monkeys in clothes. At first, we're told to wait within the school property, but when the power isn't restored after forty minutes, the remaining classes are officially canceled for the day.

"Why so early?" Mom asks when I come home and throw my backpack on the floor.

"Power outage again."

"Weird. We've been fine here. Are you hungry?"

"No."

She crosses her arms and watches me as I take off my shoes. "I'll be going to the mall soon. We could get you some winter clothes."

"No, Mom, I need to be in my room for a while."

"What got you this time?"

"It's Rufus. His father died."

She doesn't stop me when I go upstairs.

I've really had it easy in my life. The slightest inconvenience and I go full hermit mode. Rufus hardly batted an eye when he got basically outed in front of the whole class. Now when he really needs support, I go into hiding. And why? Because I'm too scared of the opinions of people who I don't give a shit about. Life kicks Rufus in the ass regularly. Maybe that's what I need. To take a few healthy kicks. Or even a punch, for good measure.

There's a quiet knocking on my door, and Mom comes in.

"You sure you don't want to go with me?"

"I'm sure, Mom. I can do my own shopping. Don't worry about me."

She bites her lower lip and starts closing the door but stops in the middle. She then opens it again and sits on the bed next to me.

"How's Rufus doing?" she asks with a sigh.

"I don't know. Not too well, I think."

"You don't know? Aren't you talking to him?"

"I'm not, currently. I realized we wouldn't be accepted." When she says nothing, I add, "but I'm starting to think that maybe it doesn't matter."

"Maybe it doesn't," she says. "Do you think I wanted you to be unhappy?"

"No," I say as honestly as I can. "You wanted me to meet the expectations. And fit in."

She seems to be contemplating it for a minute, and I don't interrupt.

"When is the funeral?" she asks.

***

It's a good question. I have no goddamn idea. I can't find anything online. It's no surprise that a funeral of a murderer isn't advertised. Is there a funeral at all?

Out of better options, I text Dale. I only have him on WhatsApp because he's in our year’s group.

"Tomorrow at ten," he replies in less than a minute.

Tomorrow? Fuck, I'm not ready for it. Then again, maybe sooner is better than later. Less time to stress out. Less time to overthink. Less time to change my mind.

"I'll give you a ride," Mom says when I'm getting ready to leave the next morning.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. Two years is not enough to forget how to drive."

"I hope. One funeral is enough."

She doesn't laugh. Neither do I. I tend to joke when I'm nervous, and she hates it. She thinks I'm not treating things seriously. If only she knew what was going on inside my brain.

"Focus mode," I say to myself when I leave the car in front of the cemetery. In an hour or two, it will be done. Listen to the priest, watch them bury the urn, get punched in the face by Tim, and go home with a bleeding nose. I tell Mom I don't need a ride in case I need time to pull myself together after the beating. No point in overthinking. Let's do what must be done and see how things roll out.

I check the time. I'm early. Some people are already in the chapel, but I don't dare go inside. I also notice two people standing at a safe distance. That's acceptable, from what I can tell. If you're an atheist or not that close to the person who died. Or, as in my case, both.

A car pulls over and stops behind the cemetery gates. I'm hoping for someone I know, but instead, it's four people, two boys and a girl aged in their late teens and early twenties, and a woman who looks like their mother. Their skin tone and dark, curly hair suggest they're Hispanic. Their faces are grim, but they're not wearing black. Rather, they're dressed in everyday clothes. I don't hear their conversation, but they seem to be in the middle of a family argument. I can't catch every word, but I conclude that the children want to be somewhere else, and the mother convinces them to shut up. Then they get closer, and I catch her saying, "...we make sure that he's dead, and we can leave. Now stop whining. It's as much as we owe." I watch as they go past me and enter the chapel. They talk all the time, and I can hear some agitated voices from the inside. Not even a minute later, the newcomers reemerge in the chapel's double door and hurry back to the car. The woman has a look of determined satisfaction, and her children follow her, looking more uncomfortable than anything else.

Before I can make sense of it, they pile into the car and quickly depart as another car approaches from the same direction. It's Dale, Emily and Shawna, brought by one of their parents.

"Hey," I greet them, expecting judgmental stares, but they just say "hi" and go past me, heading for the chapel.

"Uh, wait," I say and go after them. I hoped they would stay here with me. I don't feel like listening to the sermon or whatever is going to transpire over there, but I'll feel safer in their company.

We walk inside and take one of the benches in the back. When my eyes adjust to the dim light, I see five people sitting in the front row. Even from here, I can tell it's Rufus, his mom, his brother Tim with his girlfriend, and one woman I don't recognize. Could be an aunt or someone else from the family. Thankfully, they don't turn around when we make noise taking our places.

We sit in complete silence for about fifteen minutes, only interrupted by an occasional cough or grunt that echoes from the walls. I glance to the side at Dale's spotted face hidden behind his glasses, but he just stares ahead, barely even blinking.

By the time the priest arrives, I'm itching everywhere, wishing I could speed up time. I expect organ music, but the priest cuts straight to the chase.

"Leonard Jeffrey Buckley was not a fine man. He was a lost soul and a sinner. He sinned against our Lord and Savior in ways many find unredeemable."

He goes on to summarize many sins of the late Rufus's father and provides less essential and unremarkable facts from his life that he reads from a note. So this is what a eulogy for a murderer sounds like.

"... but for our Lord, no soul is too flawed to be unredeemable, and no sin too ugly to be unforgivable. For He is the merciful one. More joy there is in heaven over one sinner converting than for ninety-nine righteous ones. Thus let us pray that our brother Leonard confessed his sins in his last hour and accepted the eternal grace of the Heavenly Father."

I wonder what must be going on in the heads of the dead man's loved ones. Even to me, the speech is difficult to listen to. Luckily, the sermon ends in under five minutes, and the ashes are transported to the burial site. Rufus and his family stand up from their seats and walk down the aisle, passing next to us. Rufus's pale face shows no emotion at all, and he doesn't look our way as he walks past. Tim, in turn, gives me such a face that I consider leaving and never speaking to his brother ever again.

We go outside after them. Dale and the girls stand next to Rufus, but I can't force myself to come nearer. I stand by a large oak, some twenty feet away, and wait for the whole thing to be over.

Two songs later, the urn is placed in its resting place. That's when Dale pokes Rufus and whispers something to him. Whatever it is, it makes Rufus turn around and look me straight in the eyes for the first time in almost two weeks.

I get a bad case of goosebumps. It's the same cold stare, but it's pointed right at me this time. The time freezes. I want to move, walk to him, and tell him how sorry I am and how much I want him to be happy. How much I want to see the flame of passion and excitement in his eyes again. How much I want to glimpse his shy smile or to hear him purr when he cuddles into me. How much I want to lay on top of him, cover him, and make him feel safe, wanted, and loved.

Can he see it in my eyes? I'd like to think so. I hope he doesn't see someone who came here only to satisfy his conscience. Because that’s not it. That is not it! I can take a punch. It's okay if I never see him again. Just as long as his spark - the one my dad spotted after knowing him for thirty minutes - makes a virtuous comeback to make this world a better place.

I don't care what feelings make him take a small step in my direction as if guided by an invisible hand. I only care that after the first step comes another, and another, and another. His face doesn't change. He's not excited to see me. He's not sad because of his father's death. But with every step, he's one step closer to me until he can't be any closer. That's all that matters.

I open my arms for him and Rufus rests his head on my shoulder. He sighs as if his head is the greatest burden to lift, and that burden has finally been relieved. When I wrap my arms around him, he becomes softer and softer, like a pillow, almost adjusting his shape to fit in my embrace. His breath hums, deep and even, and I can hear him as he starts breathing through his mouth. Then he squishes my torso repeatedly and shudders.

"I'm here," I say, gently caressing his hair. Whether or not it's my voice that pulls the final straw, that's when he starts crying. Softly at first, but quickly letting the dam break. I can feel eyes on us as Rufus weeps loudly, shaking in my arms. I've never learned to deal with extreme emotions. The old Tyler, the only son of his parents and a faithful bro of his dudes at school wants to look away. He's begging me to push Rufus away and call him a crybaby with an ironic smirk that never failed me when I tried to keep my real feelings to myself. But it will not happen because the old Tyler keeps thawing, slowly but inevitably, like an ice cube held in an open hand.

I say nothing else and just listen to Rufus's muffled sobbing with his face buried under my chin. I rub his smooth neck and the soft fuzz of hair growing above it. It lasts a few minutes before he calms down. His breath becomes even again, only interrupted by an occasional sniff. When we break apart, his eyes are red, and the pain in them almost makes me look away. Then, without a word, he turns away and rejoins his family at the grave.

In just a few minutes, it's over, and the tiny crowd starts dispersing. Tim is the only one who looks at me as they go to the exit. For a second, I think he's about to do something he might regret, but then he just walks past me without a word. I sigh in relief, but also feel… disappointed? I deserved that punch. My soul can't rest in peace if justice remains undelivered.

I barely react when Dale and the girls approach me, and Shawna asks me if I need a ride.

"I, uh, actually I do. That would be nice," I say and feel my cheeks turn bright red. Why do I still feel bad? Almost like I killed the man myself?

In a few minutes, we sit in her Mom's car, and she asks questions about the funeral.

"It meant a lot to him," Dale whispers to me in the back seat.

"Thanks" is all I can say.

"Stop freaking out and talk to him," he adds.

Easier said than done. I'm the last person on earth I would recommend to be someone's emotional support. Now I know how all those teen fathers feel after getting a girl pregnant in the toilet on a drunken night. My link with Rufus is invisible, but just because it's not kicking, screaming and doesn't need its diaper changed, it doesn't mean it's less real. I either grow up or run away.

In the evening, I open the chat window for the millionth time since Rufus and I last texted. I had all day to think about what to write, and I settled on a simple "I was very dumb. I hope you're feeling better. I'm here if you need me." I grit my teeth and tap send.

Rufus doesn't read it or reply, but I force myself to not overthink. This message is for him and not for me. When he reads it, he reads it. If I can do something beyond fixing what I screwed up, I’ll do it gladly. If not, I will not force myself on him and make it even worse.

I check my phone for the last time before bed and consider calling him, but then I stop at the last second. It's not about you, you selfish fuck. I undress down to my boxer briefs and go to sleep.

I wake up to an unread message from Rufus. "Can you call me when you're up?"

Sheesh, way to start a day. Better than a double espresso. I sit up in my bed and dial his number.

"Hello?" he says.

"Hey," I say. "How do you feel?"

"Better."

"I can't imagine what it feels like, Rufus."

"I can tell you,” he says quietly as if someone in the other room could hear. "I'll be at school today."

"What? For real?" I jump out of my bed and start walking in circles.

"Yes. Sitting in my room all day gets to my head. Talk to you later."

"Uh, want me to walk with you?"

"Not today. I'm skipping the first class. But I'll be there."

"Okay. See you, Rufus."

We hang up, and I start getting ready for school. I've never felt so much clarity in my life. The ship takes an abrupt turn, and some of the crew may fall overboard - but land is in sight.

In a rush of self-confidence, I try calling my dad, but his phone is busy. Of course. Four days until the election. It'll be a miracle if he even notices me till then.

The first class drags on forever. I don't pay attention. I've only been doing the bare minimum for the last few weeks, and I can't keep it up much longer. I have to end this drama if only to avoid dropping out of school.

"Gonna need emotional support after this class," I write on a piece of paper and discreetly pass it to Jim. Can’t risk staying after the bell again. He stares at the note for a few minutes, writes something down, and gives it to me. "I got your back," it says. When one thing comes to another, I’ll need to rely on myself, but it's good to know that at least Jim is on my side. If I wanted to keep the drama to the minimum, I should've come out on the day I asked Rufus out for the first time. Now it's just damage control.

When the bell rings, I slowly stuff my things in my backpack. I'm not eager to be the first to leave. Jim sees my unfocused face and pats me on the back.

"Should I bring tissues?" he asks.

"Popcorn will do," I say, stress-joking.

We're the last to leave the class, and I see Rufus right away. He's already surrounded by Dale and a few other people. Shit. He looks so good. He has new blue jeans and a black sweater I haven't seen him wear before.

But most importantly, he's radiating. Not in a happy way. Rufus has never been very expressive and today isn't any different. But the spark is back. I have no doubt it's bright enough to illuminate the entire corridor if the power goes off again.

I should probably wait until he's alone. Jim, Clyde, and Dwight are hanging out nearby and not paying me any attention - yet. Then again… this was not the plan. The plan was to go all in. And that's what I must do. I literally have to order my legs to move forward. A few kids notice me and give me curious looks. I've never been too self-conscious, but this time I feel every heartbeat and every muscle. When Rufus sees me and gives me a soft smile, I forget what I should say or do.

"Hi, Rufus," I say with a hoarse voice. Here we go.

"Hey, Tyler."

The little speech I prepared evaporates, and my brain turns into a sea sponge. At least a dozen pairs of eyes are on me, and it feels worse than presenting at a congress hall.

"Sorry for being dumb," I only utter. "I missed you."

"I missed you too, dummy," Rufus shakes his head, and the spark sets me on fire. I forget how to speak, so I do the only thing I can do. I take another step forward and hug him like I did yesterday - and he hugs me back.

The feeling surges through me. It's amazing. If anyone starts clapping or something similarly stupid, I will strangle them with my bare hands. Luckily, no one does.

We pull apart for a few seconds, but Rufus grabs my hands to prevent me from running away. "Are you sure you're done being dumb?" he asks.

"Not quite," I say back. "But I'm getting there. This time for real."

"For real?"

"Uh…" I never noticed when our faces got so close. I'm out of escape routes. It's either forward or back, all the way to Alaska.

I pick forward, and we meet in a soft kiss. This time I hear a few gasps and one or two "dude!" Luckily, no one is clapping. It's not our most fiery kiss by far, but my head spins when I feel his warm lips moving against mine. We break apart in less than ten seconds.

"For real," I repeat. "I promise I'll be with you, no matter what."

A girl to our left starts clapping, and I hush her with my index finger. "No clapping. I deserve a punch in the face, if anything."

"You fucking do," I hear a familiar voice from behind me. Dwight is towering over me just three feet away. "You lied to us! You fucking showered with us! Gross!"

Is this when I take a punch? It's now or never. Can't hold back now.

"You're not my type, dude," I say. "I didn't really look down there if it makes you feel better."

Meanwhile, Clyde and Jim move from behind and start pulling him away.

"Get the fuck out, Tyler," Dwight explodes. "Don't fucking talk to me again. You betrayed my trust. Better watch your back."

"We can resolve it after school," I say. I don't care at this point. I spent so much time preparing to get chinned that it would be sad if it didn't happen. Worst case, I'll ask Rufus to punch me, but I doubt that would hurt too much.

"Fuck off. I'm not punching fairies."

"He's not a fairy, Dwight. Trust me," Jim says, and I almost laugh.

"Fuck off, Jim," Dwight pushes him away.

"Hey!" Clyde steps in between them and faces Dwight. "Dude, stop being such an asshole. Ty never perved on any of us, and you know it."

"How can you even defend him? He's a homo!"

Finally, Clyde manages to pull Dwight away, and the tension drops again after a minute. So much for the drama.

"Are you two boyfriends now?" one of the girls asks.

"If Rufus wants me," I shrug.

"We're on a trial period," Rufus says. There’s sadness in his eyes, but the spark, and his famous closed-mouth smile are there.