IceBerg - 20. Chapter 20

It had been three days and we were both just shadows walking around the house.

When I first got there my dad came to the door before I even stepped out the car. We just looked at each other, tired black eyes, blotched faces, clothes slugged on us, we both looked as crap as the other.

Like father, like son.

It had been strange sleeping in my old bedroom, well, not a bedroom anymore. A guest room, all my old things taken down and my desk and my bed left behind.

I stared up at the ceiling, pale blue.

Why the hell did my parents decide to paint the ceiling pale blue? I grunted and sat up, rubbing the side of my head.

‘I’m making coffee you want one?’ Dad called from the kitchen.

I swung my legs out of bed, ‘I’ll be down in a sec!’

My feet touched the ground and I gave a flickering glance at my phone on the floor.

I stretched my arms, feeling my shoulders blades give a soft click before I stood up. Grabbing the stained half cup next to the bed, I made it to the kitchen.

He was standing over a little pan, sizzling, the smell waving over to me.

I walked past and poured myself a fresh coffee from the pot he made.

Standing back against the counter, next to him, I watched him fry some bacon, I blew over my coffee and took a sip.

He raised an eyebrow, ‘You take it black now?’

I shrugged, ‘I am not fussy. I might have it with milk later.’

‘Ah,’ he nodded, taping at the side of the pan. ‘You want one?’

I shook my head and leaned off the counter.

‘You should eat.’

‘Will later,’ I mumbled, having another sip of coffee and sitting at the table.

It was quiet.

He brought his plate over and sit opposite the table to me.

‘You ready to sort the paperwork out later on?’ I asked.

He took a bite of the bacon, ‘Will later.’

I smiled at him.

The sound of crunch bacon floated in the room. Staring into my cup, I held my breath and then breathed out ‘When did you say the funeral was?’

‘I didn’t,’ he said. ‘I’m going to sort that out today.’

‘Is Bess helping out with arrangements?’

‘It’s Bess. So, yeah,’ his lips twitched into a smirk.

‘I can help too, you know.’

‘I know, I know. Don’t worry about it, Nathanial,’ he had one last bit of his sandwich and stood up.

I drank the rest of my coffee and stood up too, ‘I can help with something, Dad, any detail at all.’

He shook his head and brought his plate over to the dishwasher. His grey hair was thinner and his six o’clock shadow was appearing on his face.

‘Dad, I can help with the funeral list, some of the paperwork, get it started so you’re not doing it all yourself.’

He tried to open his mouth to protest but clamped it shut, instead focusing on putting the frying pan into the dish washer.

‘You cannot do all this on your own,’ I stood my ground.

He slammed the dishwasher door shut, ‘You are too young to be sorting out your mother’s funeral, Nathanial.’

‘You were two years younger than me when Gran died.’

‘So, I know what I am talking about.’

‘Dad,’ I sighed. ‘Even if it’s just making drinks for everyone, please give me something to do. I can’t let you do everything on your own.’

I looked around, at mum’s old white china, and finally reached the fridge.

‘Oh, mum, why are you sticking another poem on the fridge?’

‘Don’t take that attitude, young man! I decorate my fridge however I like!’

On the fridge are darkening papers, curled at the edges and pencil writing faded, almost see through, the child’s writing was large and swirling.

I went to open my mouth and I glanced over to my dad; he was staring at the fridge too.

‘Susan, if the boy asks you to not put another poem on the fridge just respect his wishes.’

‘Do you not like the poems, Harry?’

‘I never said that. I just listen to our son’

‘Oh, Harry, come on!’

‘We got a lot of stuff in the attic,’ Dad said. ‘Old clothes, paper work, her items.’

‘Okay, I will work on that while you sort out the funeral,’ I walked over to the coffee machine. ‘Coffee?’

He shook his head, ‘You drink too much, Nathanial.’

‘Oh,’ I replied, pouring my coffee into the cup.

‘Did you want to invite Alex to the funeral?’ I looked up at my Dad. ‘And your other two friends?’

Two other friends. I hadn’t called anyone yet. I said I would. Alex.

Mum loved all of them, especially Alex. I’d be so ashamed if she knew what was going on. They all should be here. Wait, was this my punishment? I became a crappy boyfriend and this happened?

‘Nathanial?’

‘Sorry’ I shook my head.

‘Got to stay in the real world, fantasy boy,’ hissed Jake.

I cleared my throat, ‘I’ll ring them later on today. Did you say there were some boxes to sort out in the attic?’

He paused and nodded, ‘Yes.’

Nodding back, I turned around to walk to the attic.

I could feel dad’s eyes staring at the back of my head. He didn’t say anything but then I neither did I.

Stretching upwards, I pulled on the cord and the ladders tumbled down.

My mum, she was the one true believer. More so than me, she actually listened in church, I just dawdled off in my own thoughts and worries. She was loyal. Loyal to her family, to her faith, to who she was as a person.

I supposed this was the part where people who had religion rejected them, or it made them stronger in their beliefs.

But I felt nothing.
***

The attic was cramped; small Christmas balls had rolled around loose on the floor like bugs on the dirt cream-stained carpet. Boxes, tearing little at the sides, were stacked on top of each other in awkward manner.

I strode over to the piles of large boxes. Sighing, I bent my knees and hauled one box off another until all they were all next to each other. All the boxes had something written onto of them.

Dad’s. Mum’s. Nathanial’s. Halloween. Christmas. Birthdays.

I ran my finger over the tape of Mum’s box before gripping the sides and splitting it open, the rough cardboard almost crunching under my hands.

Opening the box up, I saw lots of books and files mushed inside. I knelt down, scooping some out and putting them on the floor next to me.

Wait. I paused. A green photobook, jungle prints, paw prints there were once light now darkened. Swirly writing. Mum’s writing.

I reached down to it, I felt like I was grabbing hold of a hand of an old friend and pull them back up towards me.

‘I haven’t seen that in ten years.’

My dad knelt beside me.

I didn’t even hear him come up the attic.

‘Yeah,’ I said, sniffing, wiping my nose with the back of my hand.

The spin gave a loud crack when I opened it. Inside was a baby photo, a little baby in a crib, on top is more writing, ‘The Book of Nathanial James Greystone.’

The page felt thick like card, I turned it over with care and other dull photos jump out from all over the pages, each a child with many expressions never looking at the camera.

‘Nathanial’s first steps’, ‘Nathanial’s first Halloween’.

I looked at one, the little child in the photo was in midst of being dramatic in blowing his candles out, the lights intriguing him.

‘Nathanial’s first birthday.’

I turned more pages and the boy was growing up on each page, getting more and more silly on the camera.

In the background of one, my dad’s hand was reaching out to the camera, he was next to me while I stood proud in a Batman costume, half gorging at the camera. In the photo, he was frowning and in midst of talking.

‘Do you think the reason I look so surprised in half of these is because mum always made sure the flash was on?’ I asked him.

Dad tittered, ‘All she did was take out that camera. Everything had to be recorded otherwise she’d throw a fit.’

‘I actually can’t imagine mum being like that.’

‘No, you won’t,’ Dad chuckled.

I stopped at a certain page. My dad stared too, his fingers reached out and touched the large photo.

My graduation photo, professionally took. I stood there, all in black, holding the scroll, smiling at the camera, my mum was gripping my left arm, eager, her smile bright and eager to match her dress. Glasses and fresh faced.

‘It’s strange seeing you without a beard.’

I laughed a little at my dad’s comment, raising an eyebrow, ‘Yeah, I looked less of a hobo then?’

‘I am sure I did teach you how to shave.’

‘I prefer this way,’ I stoked my beard, staring down at the photo.

The book strained on my arms on a bit so I stood up, closing it. Pieces of papers fluttered out. I frowned

I bent down to pick it up but Dad was already sweeping them up and standing up next to me.

He saw me looking and lowered the papers down for me to see.

My eyebrows raised.

‘My old work?’ I gave a half-hearted grin, sliding them from his hands.

The papers corners were all curled in, the old paper rustles in my hands.

‘She kept half of this?’ I mused, flicking through to the next page, typed in a funky font.

Writings. All mushed together, a child’s writing, a graduate’s typing job. I stopped at one. A newspaper clipping from my high school, the article was worn down and almost yellow but my feature was on it.

‘Are you wanting to be a journalist, son?’

‘I’m not sure, mum. I’m just trying out writing. I mean it’s the only way I can get a job in writing anyway.’

‘I don’t understand, you love writing, why not just be a writer?’

‘Because it’s not a real profession, Mum.’

I read the title out to my dad, ‘Good Dog finds the bone. Don’t think the journalism world is doing too bad without me.’

He laughed a little, ‘You don’t read papers anymore, do you?’

I grinned over my shoulder. There were so many papers stacked awkward together. Poems, short stories, my article, my attempt at a comic book, half a page of a script, the journey of experimental writing.

She kept all this.

‘There’s more,’ my dad bent down and scooped up more papers. ‘Must have all fell out her folder.’

Folder?

I squatted down and searched through the box. A blue folder came up, in the midst of old toys and books, almost a grey white. I flipped it open and more stashes of paper, some folded, some presented neat were all inside.

I stopped at one paper in particular.

‘Aw Nathanial, this is lovely.’

‘I’m really glad you like it, Mum.’

‘Honey?’

‘Yes?’

‘You don’t feel like that, do you? Alone? You know you shouldn’t.’

‘Mum?’

‘Your dad and I aren’t don’t care about who you love, you do know that right? God made you perfect.’

I glanced at my dad, as he shuffled his feet, staring at the folder in my hands.

Honestly, I didn’t know how he still felt about my sexuality. He never was against it but he never spoke about it.

Before I thought more about it, I saw another story. A short story.

I smiled and half raised the folder at my dad, ‘One of the early ones I wrote.’

He tilted his head, ‘I remember this. Your mum kept pestering me to teach her how to use the scan machine so she can send copies to her friends at LGBT meetings.’

I almost forget how fully invested she was when I first came out.

I smiled, ‘Did you ever teach her?’

‘I tried. She just took your pieces to the meetings instead.’

‘Did she ever take them to her other friends?’

My dad shrugged, ‘Well, your mother. She, um, only had her LGBT friends. Then Bess.’

I frowned, ‘She had a huge gossip group, the church ones?’

‘Yes, that’s true, she did,’ he said, putting books back into the box. ‘She still was close to one of them, but not the others as much.’

‘Why did she stop being friends with them?’

He said nothing.

I glanced down at my scattered work, ‘She lost her friends because of me?’

‘Your mum never lost anything. Besides,’ he mused. ‘Those people were not good people. She knew that for a long time.’

‘She shouldn’t have lost her friends like that,’ I felt so awful, she was so popular, Mum.

‘She gained more friends at those meetings. Besides they all liked your work and she was always bringing it over with her cookies.’

‘She showed people my work?’

It felt so strange; she might as well have brought the Nathanial baby book with her too.

I laughed, stopping at one paper, ‘Don’t tell me she brought this in. My English professor put red marks all through it.’

‘Well, her friends loved it,’ dad just shrugged. ‘Especially the house fire scene.’

‘Ah,’ I said, smiling, half mused, scanning the short story in my hand.

‘Wasn’t Arthur a drug dealer who lived in Austria? He was always swearing, wasn't he,’ he replied.

I only gave my stories to Mum. She must have told him the details. But.

I shrugged, ‘Think the swearing was too much?’

‘Think it was smart move to translated most of it into German, hide it well,’ he put the papers back into the box.

‘Come on,’ I patted his back. ‘I’ll grab us some food and we can sort through what to keep and what to throw out.’

I went to turn around but he was still kneeling over the boxes. He placed his hands out on top of the box labelled Mum.

             ***
 

‘Wait, what did you do there?’

‘It’s easy, Dad, if you want to add another name onto the email you just right click, like so.’

‘I don’t have their emails saved. Do I just type it in?’

‘Of course. I mean if you wanted to, I could set up a Messenger account for you, would be easier than sending a group email.’

‘It’s the same thing; it’s just a message. I can type.’

Passing him the laptop, I stood up to put more sugar in my coffee. His slow pushing of each button behind me didn’t match the sounds I made with the clanging of the spoon against my cup.

Leaning against the counter, I watching my father’s typing away.

‘Dad,’ I couldn’t help but blurt out. ‘I can type it up if you tell me what to say.’

‘I can type at my own speed and all this technology updates and online crap.’

‘That’s the neighbour kid, Adam, wanting you to sign up, I just suggested it.’

‘It’s the same as an email.’

‘Dad it’s just so much easier, trust me. Everyone does it, it will be easier to keep up.’

‘Emails are just as good.’

‘Okay, then.’ The harsh type of each key grinded me. ‘Dad just let me type it up, I can have this down in a few seconds.’

‘I type like an old man, eh?’

‘I didn’t say that.’

‘You know, I should have made you change your own nappies, young man.’

‘But that was your favourite activity.’

We looked at each other and grinned.

We hadn’t talked like this for a long time.

I sat next to him, ‘I tell you what. After you’ve done your email, I will teach you some social media and you can teach me how to do some of this paperwork. Help each other out.’

‘Which paperwork, house, will?’

‘All of it? We could help each other out, you know. I am not good at paperwork and you are.

We did some more paperwork and messed around on dad’s laptop, using the camera. We took so many photos, using the different filters. We began smiling more but as the filters got more and more ridiculous, cowboy hats and dog ears, the photos end up of us screwing up our faces in laughter, my dad nearly frowning and then almost laughing out loud to the camera.

‘How can you even smile, your mum died, stopped breathing, her life has stopped completely, she’s not coming back,’ chanted Jake.

With aggression, I clicked the buttons a few times in a row.

‘Right,’ I said, a little too sharply. ‘That’s all the filters, let’s have a look at the mess.’ I forced that smile back, clicking off the camera. I showed him where the files were, and the photos uploaded themselves to us.

‘That’s a lot,’ my dad scoffed, standing up. ‘I’m making a coffee, you want one?’

‘Yeah, sure,’ I replied, my eyes fixated on the screen, I skipped through our photos.

They were all so ridiculous. Mum always said I had my dad’s smile; I didn’t take much to that. Now I was staring at the photos on the screen and it was all I was thinking about. Both of us have the same crooks in our smile, similar teeth lines

‘I just want one decent photo of you guys.’

‘You have decent ones, Susan.’

‘Yeah, mum!’

‘I just want nice memories that’s all.’

‘She died after you cheated,’ hissed Jake. ‘Don’t you see it? Your fault. Your fault.’

‘Nathanial.’

Crap, crap. I wiped my eyes, and sniffed, I tried to make my voice come out clear, but it came out weak and mumbling, ‘I, um, I just um. Sorry.’

He sat next to me, handing me the coffee. Staring at the photos, he didn’t say much for a few seconds.

           

‘Harry, put your arm around your son, you guys are just standing there.’

‘Mum, just take the damn photo.’

‘Susan, I just want to go inside the restaurant now, we are all hungry here.’

When he went to the bathroom, I glanced down at my phone.

They were waiting for me to get in touch. It had been three days. I needed to message them what was happening.

I decided to head out. Go for a walk. To the shops.

***

That took way longer than I wanted. Ugh. I hated small town syndrome. I went out to buy milk and ended up having the whole store talk to me about my mum like they were her children too.

‘Why are you the one that still gets to breathe?’ hissed Jake.

I didn’t have an answer for that because he was right.

I shrugged my shoulders, and with my free hand I pulled up my collar a bit and bowed my head down.

I called in, ‘It was just a few things you wanted, Dad?’

No answer.

‘I told him you would say that,’ someone laughed. I opened the kitchen door.

My dad was standing against the wall, leaning against it, arms folding, smiling. Next to him was Oli, David, Alex, and Charlie.

I stopped as they all looked at me coming into the kitchen. I didn’t know what to do. I gave a little nod and walked to the fridge, to put the food away.

I was suddenly in someone’s arms, from behind, tall. Alex.

He nuzzled the back of my head and kissed it. I froze up, wanting to resist the physical touch, but he gripped tighter, and I shook, not able to keep it still. I bowed my head down, closing the fridge door.

I glanced over at Oli, who was patting my dad on the back.

My dad turned to me and said, ‘Your friends arrived when you came out. They’ve been struggling to get in touch with you.’

‘Yeah. I suck at that,’ I gave a small laugh, holding onto Alex’s hand.

‘Well, we got to do a road trip,’ piped up Charlie. He was smiling at me, his hair looked like crap, like it needed brushing.

Oli’s face looked so tired, even as he smiled, ‘We found out Charlie talks a lot.’

‘That’s not news,’ I almost laughed again, having the strength to lean off Alex.

‘My voice makes the journey great,’ Charlie smirked.

‘It really doesn’t,’ I could feel Alex’s voice mumble next to me.

David was quick, ‘If you two argue one more time, Oli will spray you again.’

Oli pulled a face and leaned again the wall, he said to my dad, ‘If you guys need any help here by the way.’

‘Yes,’ Alex let go off me, agreeing with Oli. ‘We really want to help anyway we can. Once again, we are … we are sorry.’

I cleared my throat, ‘Funeral is in two days, I mean if you guys want to stay, but there’s not much room.’

‘Don’t worry,’ Oli wafted his hand. ‘We are only an hour away; we can drive back then. Don’t need to play host.’

‘Still,’ my dad said. ‘Make everyone hot drinks, Nathanial.’

I smiled back at him.

‘Nathanial, sweetie, what’s the rule?’

‘Always make hot drinks, mum, I know.’

I made coffees, my back and I heard them chatting softly behind me.

‘Hey.’

I turned my head to Charlie who was standing next to me. He reached for some cups out of the cupboard and placed them on the counter for me.

‘So, we decided on the actors. I hope that’s okay,’ he said.

‘That’s fine,’ I replied. ‘You got Tim and Piper in on it, right?’

‘Of course,’ he smiled.

‘Then I am happy,’ I reached out for the pot. I called over my shoulder, ‘How does everyone take it?’

‘Milk and no sugar!’

‘Just black!’

‘Sugar, lots of sugar!’

Charlie carried on talking next to me, his voice hushed, ‘We are redoing auditions with the chosen actors, so you get to see them again. But I think you will like the choices. Then next month we begin rehearsing the scenes.’

‘Next month?’

‘Yes, we have to scout for locations, you know not many places have stadiums and castles, they are not cheap.’

A heavy knock bellowed into my stomach, a hurting worry, my forehead frowned. I rubbed it, ‘What if it becomes a flop, how do we pay back the money?’

‘It won’t be,’ he placed a hand on my shoulder, squeezed and let go in a sharp instant. He picked up his cup and his voices got even more quiet, ‘It won’t.’

He patted my back as he left, picking up another cup to pass to Alex. Alex said nothing.

Everyone was talking but I glanced over my shoulder. I caught the hidden hard stares Alex was giving Charlie and Charlie giving the same hard stares back. I blinked and tried to focus on Oli talking.

They were all still talking, sitting down at the kitchen table, joking with one another, talking about the photos online, the flower arrangements for my mum, what time they need to be there for the funeral. A slow buzz called into my ear, ringing out, sharp. I scratched my ear.

‘Your mum died, and you know it’s your fault,’ sneered Jake. ‘Your God doesn’t like cheats, does he? Everyone will die because of you; the world is going to end because of you.’

A cup clattered, almost falling off the edge.

‘Oops,’ David caught it off me. ‘Nearly lost that one there.’

As he placed it down, Oli came over comes over. He leaned over and whispered, ‘If you want five minutes on your own, I can distract everyone, you go sit down somewhere, okay?’

He smacked a kiss on my cheek and sat down with everyone at the table, his voice booming, ‘How do you wear just a shirt, Harry, you rub goose fat to keep warm or something? It’s freezing here!’

He laughed as I slid past him, patting his arm.

I reached my old room and I sunk onto the edge of bed. Elbows resting on my knees, I leaned forward and my hands covered my face.

My hands were rough.

I rubbed my grim face and let out a long sigh.

Screw you, Jake. Why did he have to say crap like that?

I could feel my eyes blistering up with tears and I could feel my insides cursing me.

I was not responsible for my mum’s death. I was not responsible for my mum’s death. I couldn't be responsible.

‘Nathanial?’ Alex’s voices called through the ajar door, a gentle knock pushing the door forward.

Alex turned his heel towards me, he offered me his outstretched hand and, despite feeling frozen, I slapped a hand into his palm and let him drag me up. He pulled me into his chest, wrapping his arms around me, complete. I closed my eyes, the smell of Alex and fresh shampoo soothed my face and I couldn’t help but wrap my own arms around his waist, my grip getting tighter before I could control it.

I could feel his nose nuzzling the top of my head. I looked at him. His face was so tired, the lines around his eyes made his normal sharp beautiful eyes look dull and dark.

He gave a slow grin at me, ‘Yeah, I look like crap. Do I rock the look?’

He was so warm and smell so good.

I had forgotten about how good this was, how soothing he made everything around us. I reached up to his face, holding his cheeks in my palms, smiling at him before I kissed his lips, with a soft touch. He caught his breath in his throat and held me closer to him, his hand curling alongside my back. His other hand ran around the edge of my jaw, tilting my head and he kissed me back. The familiarity reached down to my stomach and I kissed him hard.

I missed this so much.

Pushing him up against the wall, I almost knocking the breath out him. He grabbed the back of my head hard. He tasted so good.

‘Nathan, your dad wants.’

Charlie.

I pulled away from Alex, bowing my head down. ‘Everything okay, Charlie?’

He was standing there at the ajar door , he looked a little pale, he gulped and gave a coy smile, ‘Sorry. Your dad said it was okay for me to come up.’

‘What did you want,’ Alex almost growled, his teeth gritted, staring hard at Charlie.

Charlie didn’t look away from me, ‘Your dad wants to talk about the guest list of the funeral.’

I nodded, ‘Thanks, Charlie.’

He nodded back and stood there.

‘We will be down in a minute,’ Alex’s voice was clipped and harsh. His grip on my back was tight and uncomfortable.

‘Alright,’ Charlie finally hit Alex with a look of his own. ‘Don’t shoot the messenger.’

‘Can you give us a few minutes. I haven’t seen my boyfriend for a few weeks,’ Alex voice was scolding.

‘Well, I haven’t seen my friend.’

‘Guys, what you are doing up there?’ Oli’s voice hollered from downstairs.

Charlie stared at Alex before calling over his shoulder, ‘Be down in a minute!’

Alex stared back at Charlie, his fist digging into my back, rough knuckles jabbing harsh against my spine.

‘Enjoy your few minutes, I will stall them,’ Charlie began to step backwards out of the room.

‘Doing something useful for once,’ Alex muttered low.

But Charlie caught it and stopped, ‘Do you have a problem, Scott?’

Alex let go of me, ‘You are my problem, Conray.’

It was all coming out and I was stood, with my hands still on Alex, staring up at my feet.

‘Come on, guys!’ Oli called up again.

My chest was buckling up, it hurt to breathe.

‘You finally get the showdown,’ Jakes whispered in my ear. ‘Everything out in the open. Everything.’

‘Get out.’

They both paused and looked at me. I pulled away Alex’s arms and stepped back, away from them both.

‘Get out of the room,’ my voice was tight in my throat.

‘Nat,’ Alex tried to reach for me.

‘Both of you. Get out.’

Alex’s hand fell back to his side, his voice was quiet and shaking, ‘Okay, Nathanial. I’ll be downstairs. I love you.’

Charlie said nothing, but I could feel his eyes never leaving me before he was pushed out of the room.

I kept my looking around the room, waiting for the door to click shut. When the sound hit my ears, I closed my eyes and a gush of air poured of my throat.

Scrunching my hands to my face, I sank low to the floor, to my knees. Wanted to throw up but stomach was too empty. I stared dead out on the floor, the dirt green carpet. My body was limp and tired, my brain was so wired up, all the guilty words were firing around non-stop and it was excruciating. Closing my eyes, I scrapped my fists against the carpet, feeling a slight burn. For a moment, all I wanted to do was never open my eyes again.

‘God. Help me. Please. I can’t do this anymore.’

                                                        ***

I lost track of time. It might have been ten minutes. Maybe twenty.

I remember finally getting off the floor and sitting on the desk, staring dumbfounded at all the scattered books and folded ripped papers. There was a book with bright black and blue swirls floating. I ran a finger over the plastic cover and opened it.

My old terrible handwriting, I could barely read it, the smudges at the end of the page, the scribbling out. Reading all over my stories and ideas. I kept flipping through random pages. It was like looking at old photographs, flashing back to high school Nathanial, sitting up in his room, so confused about his sexuality, and writing out in furious lashes and scribbles, hoping words would figure me out. They never did, but it felt good to write. There was a blank page at the end of the book.

I still wasn't good at endings.

A sharp knock on the door startled me. I closed the book.

‘Come in, Dad.’

He came through and stood awkward. ‘Is that your old stuff there?’

‘Oh,’ I looked behind me. ‘Oh, yeah. Yeah. I was just looking.’

He sniffed and smiled, crossing his arms, ‘She never throw any of that out.’

‘It is a lot of clutter,’ I laughed a little, folding my own arms.

‘Yeah, she thought when you became a successful writer, she could sell this and get rich.’

I laughed at that.

He shook his head. He paused and freed his hands from his chest, ‘Your friends will be back on Sunday. I gave them the details; they all want to help out with sorting food out in the morning.’

‘They are good people,’ I replied, ‘When they are not arguing, ha. Are you wanting me to sort out the rest of the boxes upstairs?’

He sighed, and said, ‘Look, I know I am not great at this whole thing. I know I don’t really get it.’

‘Well, we have never had to sort out funerals before,’ I tried to joke.

My dad sat on the edge of my bed. I almost frowned at him.

It was the furthest he had ever been in my room and I went to sit next to him, the old single bed drooping with the tired-out mattress.

‘I know your mum was better at talking about your… um, well, she was better at it than me.’

‘She was good at talking,’ I mumbled, looking down at my feet.

‘I don’t have an issue with your, you know.’

‘Dad. It’s fine. Don’t worry about it.’

He fidgeted with his thumbs on his lap, his shoulders hunched up, ‘I can tell you something though. All men are idiots, every single one of them.’

‘I know that,’ I grinned.

He nudged my shoulder with his.

‘It’s why Mum was able to run rings around us,’ I smiled.

My dad paused and said, ‘Everyone in the kitchen cares really loves you, Nathanial. Don’t be too harsh on them, okay? Some people just don’t get on.’

‘That is true. It would just be easier if they did.’

‘When your mum and I started dating, I couldn’t stand Bess.’

‘Bess? She’s practically her sister. You still don’t like her.’

‘When your mum broke her leg, I could drive to see her, but Bess couldn’t. But she did have money for fuel, and I had no money. So, we worked together, despite each other, to see your mum at the hospital.’

I shrugged, nodding, ‘I get where you are going with this. I get it.'

As he stood up, I said, ‘I bet Bess is driving you insane right now, no pun intended.’

‘She keeps saying I should get a dog.’

‘A dog would be a good idea.’

He frowned at me and I smiled, ‘Come on Dad. You know she cares.’

He almost pulled a face at me and I shook my head.

I cleared my throat, ‘I think a dog is a good idea.’

Dad walked to the door, ‘Yes, a whining animal that will need walks and money and time.’

‘But you have that now.’

I wanted to stab myself for saying that out loud.

I babbled, ‘Just a small dog, we can ask around, get someone train it. No harm in asking.’

‘I am not worried about being on my own, Nathanial,’ he frowned.

‘I am,’ I curled my first up in my hand. ‘Let me ask. If you don’t like the dog, I will keep it.’

‘It’s a lot of money.’

‘I am not going to tell you what Mum would say because you already know.’

He stopped, ‘Let’s sort out those boxes.’

 

                                                            ***

‘Your father got a dog?’ Piper was amused.

She had the same look Sharon did when I told her.

‘What’s his name?’ Claire walked back into the audition room, holding two cups wide apart in her hands, papers hidden under her arm.

I grinned.

That’s what Sharon asked too.

I said, ‘He only came up with a name the other day. John.’

‘John? For a dog?’

‘He is happy with it, and I am happy with it,’ I smiled at Piper, picking up my own papers to look through.

‘It’s nice to hear you are happy, Nathanial,’ Claire’s soft voice replied.

A sudden lump was fixed in my throat. Before it could stay there long, I looked up and smirked, ‘Where’s that damn boyfriend of yours? He should have been holding the door for you.’

She cocked an eyebrow, ‘Charlie holds doors for no more man.’

‘Or woman!’ Charlie’s voice rang through. He ran in, his shirt half tucked into his trousers, his hair with a slight scuffle. ‘Sorry, I am late, I got caught up in something.’

I pulled a face, ‘Slept in?’

‘No,’ he huffed, sitting over next to Claire, he pecked her cheek and settled into his chair. ‘I just had. Um, it doesn’t matter, just an issue with someone.’

‘An issue?’ Claire had a sense of panic in her voice.

‘You absolutely slept in, don’t be dramatic about it,’ I smiled at him, almost sticking my tongue out.

Charlie looked up and met my eye. His eyes had a dark shadow on them, but I saw a glimmer of light sparkle out of them too. The more I stared into his eyes from across the table, the more I noticed the glimmer and the smile resting steady on my own face.

‘Did you hear, his dad got a dog,’ Claire nudged him. ‘Called him John.’

He blinked and pulled a face.

His face looked very different at the funeral.

On that day, we were all outside. The priest was walking away, coffin was in the ground , the funeral done. Everyone else had left and I was left standing there, there was little wind and the sun shined on. I put my hand out on the gravestone, the fresh carving, smooth letters forever imprinted.

All I could think about was how the smooth letters would rub off in a few years, the grey marble would chip away, the grass would grow around it. Then there was a hand over my shoulder, I could smell that familiar scent of fresh apples next to me. I kept my head low and touched his hand on my shoulder, turning it over and squeezing it. He squeezed right back.

‘Why John?’ mused Charlie.

I let out a small breath and shrugged, ‘John Wayne, man.’

Piper grinned and went to open her mouth.

‘Right guys!’ Grant’s voice boomed through. He strode in, standing in the middle of the room, folder in hand, he put his hands on his hips. ‘Last round of auditions, hopefully we can get all this done in one day. It will be a long one though. Did the Claire and Piper catch you up to speed, Nathanial?’

They had done a lot of auditions and were nearly done. This was the last of the auditions. They had also found settings for the scenes, thanks to Claire, which was why she officially part of the team now.

I nodded, ‘Yeah.’

‘Great,’ smiled Grant. ‘Everyone ready?’

‘I got my junk,’ called Charlie, reaching into his bag and dumping onto the table a large bag of candy.

‘I got my junk,’ Claire raised her cup up.

I glanced over at Piper and we shared a small grin.

‘Alright,’ said Grant. He turned to me, ‘I am very sorry to hear what happened with your mum, Nathanial.’

I could feel everyone’s eyes on me, so I gave him a polite nod with heavy eyes, ‘Thanks. I heard you got the settings?’

‘Oh, yes,’ he replied, coming towards the table and putting his folder down. ‘It took us a while, but we finally got most of them sorted. I think Charlie emailed you the images?’

‘He did,’ I said. ‘Good choices. I knew you guys wouldn’t let me down.’

He laughed, as he put the rest of his items on the table. He lowered his voice to me, ‘I need you to sign some documents today, after this, if that’s okay, Nathanial, just to confirm you are happy with us being part of this. Just some formalities.’

I had been lucky to avoid signing these papers for a while, I wondered why it had taken so long to. Ugh. What was I doing?

‘Yes, that’s fine,’ I nodded at him.

‘They know more about your work than you do,’ hissed Jake. ‘Face it. This is not your script anymore, it’s theirs. It’s theirs. It’s theirs. It’s theirs. This doesn’t belong to you. It’s not real! Wake up!’