The Burden We Bear - 1. Story

The Burden We Bear

By Menzo

A cold desert wind swept through the canyon. The sound of a rock falling echoed in the shadows. The rock bounced twice on the smooth boulders before it struck the pristine surface of a small spring-fed pool. Sean watched as it sent ripples across the pond, distorting the reflection of the canyon walls. He watched, not blinking, until the rock had disappeared into the black pool and the water had leveled out into a sheet of glass once more. The light was waning fast, and as night approached, the fierce wind whipped through his heavy flannel shirt as though it were made of cotton mesh. A horse blanket was lying on the rock next to him, but Sean didn’t even think to wrap it around his shoulders.

Picking up a handful of dirt and pebbles, he opened his fingers and watched them fall back to earth: sand through an hour glass. When only one pebble remained, he clasped his fist tightly around it. He clenched his hand until he could feel his fingernails digging – almost painfully, now – into his palms. His knuckles whitened, and he involuntarily held his breath as though he thought to crush the sandstone into powder. But the pebble didn’t yield, and he let out his breath loudly as he opened his palm to the darkening sky. The pebble lay in the middle of his hand, with a small rivulet of blood flowing around it like a river born from a spring.

He looked back toward the pool, now barely visible as the sun dipped below the far wall of the canyon. A tear trickled out of one eye, leaving a glistening path as it drifted down his dust-stained cheek. He reached over to the blanket lying beside him, tossed it aside, and picked up the plain, unmarked wooden box that lay under it. His joints moved mechanically as he stood up and turned until the wind was directly behind him, tearing through his clothes.

Kissing the box gently, he threw it with all his might out over the edge of the canyon. The wind howled loudly as the box came open and ashes painted the evening sky a murky grey.

*****

The sun beat down on the brown scrub of the open New Mexico plain, driving even the most hardy animals into their shady lairs. The wilderness stretched on for miles; the only evidence of civilization was the Interstate – a long, black scar marring the desert. A faint breeze stirred the mesquite every once in a while, but it was a teasing wind, a wind that flirted and hinted but never offered any relief from the searing heat. Aside from the occasional tree scattered across the flatlands, the only other dark mark on the landscape was a boy, rocking back and forth a few dozen yards from the highway.

His hands shook as he fumbled for the pistol he kept in a holster by his side. Slick with blood, his fingers could barely release the safety catch. He panted heavily and lifted himself to his feet as he scrambled away from the body lying in front of him. He kept his gaze firmly planted on his feet, but as a rivulet of blood oozed into the stony ground and a faint yelp tugged at his heartstrings, he slowly raised his gaze to the dog lying on the ground. Her hind leg was twitching as blood poured out of a bullet wound, and her once-bright eyes were cloudy and half shut. James raised the pistol, but his arm was shaking so much he could barely take aim.

And then she opened her eyes fully and looked into those of her master. His vision blurred as tears poured uncontrollably from his eyes, but when he heard the pained whine of his oldest friend, he blinked back the tears and held his arm steady. He pulled the trigger. The sound of the gunshot was deafening against the quiet backdrop of the desert, and once the smoke cleared and the sound had faded, he just stood motionless, staring at the lifeless body of his dearest companion.

He sat down heavily, his gaze never wavering, then leaned over to place a gentle kiss on her forehead – right between the ears, just as she had always liked. He wanted to weep, but the tears would no longer come; all he could do was hold her soft head on his lap and rock back and forth beneath the unforgiving sun.

*****

The wind whistled in his ears, blowing his long hair out behind him as he gained speed. Carefully balancing himself with his legs, Sean lifted his hands from the swift mare’s mane, raising them as high over his head as he could. There wasn’t a soul for miles, and he felt indescribable contentment wash over him. His eyes were watery from the stinging wind, but he opened them wide, taking in every inch of the breathtaking countryside as he whooped with delight.

Now this was something he’d never had the chance to do back in Boston. Sean missed his friends from back there, but he was quickly getting used to life in rural New Mexico. The grassy plains gradually became rockier and more barren as he continued east, but it wasn’t until Sean’s mare whinnied loudly and came to an abrupt halt that he took the time to look around. Shit. He was lost – completely, utterly lost. Rocky plains stretched out for miles in every direction, and he had only the faintest idea of where he had started his sojourn.

He started to panic. He was a city boy, and although the vast landscapes of New Mexico were exciting and intriguing, they were also frightening and intimidating. His mother had told him that some of the people down here still went hunting for the food they ate. Imagine! On the bright side, though, it wasn’t considered odd to own and ride a horse here. He walked beside his horse for a while in the direction he thought led to home, but when he heard the sounds of running water and barking, he knew he had gone the wrong way.

Hoping that he might, at the very least, find something to drink, Sean followed the sound of the water until he abruptly reached the edge of a deep canyon. More of a crevice – a rift in the earth – than a canyon, the landscape gave no warning that it suddenly fell away into a great abyssal gorge. Standing on the brink, Sean looked down and saw a shallow river bubbling over a layer of rounded stones. Sitting in the water, wrestling with a collie, was a boy who looked to be about his own age. A rubber ball scarred with tooth marks and scratches lay on the ground beside them, ignored as they rolled about in the shallow water.

It was a difficult climb down to the bottom and certainly not one that was feasible for a horse. Sean had tied his compliant mare to a protruding rock before carefully descending into the gorge. He lost his footing as he neared the bottom, sending a shower of stones tumbling, the noise echoing through the narrow stone walls, alerting the other boy to his presence. He clumsily finished his descent only to find that both the strange boy and his dog – which looked more like a coyote than a collie now – were staring silently at him.

“You aren’t from around here.” It wasn’t a question, just a statement of fact.

“My folks moved here a coupla weeks ago,” replied Sean nervously. The boy unnerved him, though he didn’t know why.

“From the Northeast.” Again, there was no indication that he was asking a question.

“Yeah,” Sean shrugged, scratching his head. “From Boston.”

“Daddy’s brother lives there. We don’t talk about him much, though. Is it a nice place, Boston?”

“Uhh,” he stammered, caught off guard. “I guess so. It’s different from here.”

“I’m James, by the way,” said the boy, extending his dripping hand. “But you can call me Jamie, if you wish.”

Relieved that Jamie was behaving in a more familiar manner, Sean took the proffered hand and shook it vigorously, much to the apparent amusement of Jamie.

Despite his initial reservations about the boy, Sean soon warmed up to James. They chatted, as young boys do, about their hobbies and their parents and their lives in general. Sean learned that they were both twelve years old and going into the seventh grade and that they shared a love of animals and the outdoors, among other things.

They laughed and played in the refreshing water of the creek for hours, occasionally stopping to rest and enjoy some of the food that Jamie had brought from home. It was during these brief reprieves from physical activity that their nascent bond started to form. Neither of them had the words or the thoughts to express it at the time, but each had found in the other a kindred spirit with whom to share a secret they didn’t even know they kept.

*****

“I love you, Sean,” James murmured as he snuggled his body closer to his friend’s larger one.

Sean sighed heavily as he ran his fingers through the fine sandy hair of his friend. He didn’t want to speak, but those large, reproachful brown eyes demanded a response.

“Do you remember what I told you those years ago when Jake outed you?”

The brown eyes clouded at the thought of the fateful day that had shaped the last three and a half years of his life.

“Word for word,” he whispered softly. “You told me that no matter how bad things got, you’d always be there for me—that no matter what anyone said, you’d still be my friend.”

“And I meant it, Jamie. But I can’t be more than a friend. It wouldn’t be fair to you. I love you – more, I think, than you will ever understand – but not in the same way you love me.”

Jamie pulled away from the strong, reassuring body in the bed with him, and covered his body with the sheet. Perching on the foot of the bed, he stared, unblinking, at Sean.

“Maybe in a different time and place,” Sean whispered. “But not here. I…can’t. I can’t face what you face, Jamie. Every day I watch my best friend dread going to school. I watch you go to a war zone to do battle with an enemy you cannot defeat. And a little part of me dies every time I see your beautiful eyes full of sadness and resignation. You need me as a friend more than you need me as a lover.”

“And you’re too afraid people will find out.” It wasn’t a query; it wasn’t even an accusation; it was just a statement of fact.

“I’m sorry.” His blue eyes were wet with tears. “I don’t have the courage to shoulder that burden. I wasn’t lying when I said I loved you more than anything else, but I…I can’t be more than a friend.”

“A friend with benefits, then?” asked Jamie. The mournful look in his emotive eyes was replaced by a mischievous one as he discarded the sheet from around his waist and leaned forward to tickle Sean’s chest.

Deftly grabbing James’s wrists, Sean easily overpowered his smaller friend and flipped him over onto his back. He leaned over Jamie until their noses were almost touching, their eyes just inches apart.

“Are you sure you’re not upset, Jamie?”

“Upset?” he laughed. “Why would I be upset? You told me everything I wanted to hear.”

“What?” Sean asked cautiously. He hoped for his friend’s sake that Jamie wasn’t in denial.

“Tell me something, Sean,” Jamie replied, pushing his head up to kiss him on the lips. “If you had said rather that you were in love with me and ready to tell the world, would our relationship be any different – any stronger – than it is now?”

*****

It had been a summer to remember, with the resulting deep scratches and deeper tans to prove it. Their last two months before high school had been some of the most memorable of the friendship that had, somehow, strengthened during their adventures through the New Mexico countryside. But now September was creeping up on them, and they had to turn their attentions to the unknown demon that their friends spoke of in hushed voices and conspiratorial whispers: high school.

“Hello?” said James into the phone receiver.

“Hey, Jamie.”

“What’s up?”

“Do you wanna go up to the canyon today?”

“I thought we were playing football with Matt and Dave,” he replied.

“I know, but I kinda want it to be just us, you know? It’s the last day of summer. Seems fitting, dontcha think?”

“Yeah,” agreed James enthusiastically. “I’ll go find Copper.”

“Great! I’ll call Matt and tell him we can’t make it. Meet me at my place in fifteen?”

“Sure. See ya.”

Jamie hung up the receiver and whistled loudly. Copper – so named for the streaks of rust that ran through her otherwise tawny fur – came bounding gracefully through the open door, eager for a walk. As Sean had found out shortly after meeting James, Copper was indeed part coyote and the only surviving pup of the litter that had been birthed by James’s neighbor’s aging collie.

Sitting down on the front stairs, James threw an arm over his oldest friend and placed a kiss on her head, right between the ears. He was looking forward to this last day of freedom with Sean, but he knew that he had to tell him the one secret he still kept. Today was the day that would make or break their friendship.

The long walk to the canyon – their unofficial hideout – was unusually subdued, with James speaking only monosyllabically and avoiding the playful banter that normally marked their walks together. Despite the fact that it was almost September, the heat was scorching, and the air seared their lungs. By the time they had arrived at the almost-dry river of the canyon, they were sweating and panting from the heat. Copper’s tongue lolled about as she tried to find a pool of water deep enough to drink from.

Sitting in the shade of a large boulder, James gazed aimlessly at the myriad stones lining the river bed, and Sean watched his friend with curiosity.

“Is something the matter, Jamie?” he asked after a while, placing his hand gently on his friend’s shoulder.

James nodded slightly, but said nothing.

Neither of them noticed the movement of shadows on the far side of the canyon.

“Are you gonna tell me, or do I need to beat it out of you?” He smiled, but his attempt at humor fell flat, only making the silence more pronounced.

“There’s one secret of mine that you don’t know, Sean,” Jamie said at last, leaning back against the cool stone face of the cliff.

“Hey,” Sean said sympathetically. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. I don’t mind.”

“I do, though. I can’t not tell you. I have to know what you think.” His large brown eyes were glassy and wet, the way they looked when he had hurt himself but was trying not to cry. He ran his hands absentmindedly over Copper, taking a simple pleasure in the soft feel of her fur against his skin.

“I dunno what you’re so upset about, Jamie. It’s not as if this secret’s gonna make me hate you or anything.”

“It might,” he sighed. “It might.”

“James!” scolded Sean. “How could you doubt me like that?”

“I’m gay.” There, he had said it. It was abrupt and without fanfare, but the silence that followed seemed deafening to Jamie. Jamie never took his eyes off Sean, whose face had darkened and was fixed on the ground in front of him. The silence was deafening – until it was broken by the sound of feet scraping against stone.

James’s eyes widened in fear as he searched in vain to see who else might have heard, and Copper’s ears perked up as she raised her head. Sean’s eyes narrowed, and he leaped to his feet and ran to the center of the narrow gorge. It was a perfunctory effort, though; the other kids could already be heard pedaling away on unseen bicycles. Even if he could have caught them, it wouldn’t have done any good.

“Do you know what this means, Jamie?” he demanded, turning to face his silent companion. “They’ll tell everyone.”

“What have I done?” he wondered aloud. A single tear rolled down his cheek, and he buried his head in Copper’s ruff.

“Jamie,” Sean whispered in a softer voice, moving to sit close to him. “Don’t worry about them. I’m still here. You’re still my best friend; nothing’s gonna change that.”

Sean leaned over to hug his best friend, and his eyes locked onto Copper’s yellow, wild ones. Though he tried to comfort James, there was nobody to assuage his own fears about the months to come. He could protect Jamie, but who was there to protect him?

*****

An aberrant silence permeated the tense atmosphere as James walked down the long corridor limned by his peers. His head held high and eyes gazing outward, he was a proud stag amongst rabid wolves. Like wolves, they wouldn’t dare attack alone – but in a pack they would pull him down and strip every last piece of flesh from his bones. And like the haughty stag, his proud eyes masked the knowledge that this was a fight he could not win.

As he neared the front doors, he felt them converge silently around him. On his heels, they waited patiently until the prying eyes of teachers were no longer in sight. He thought about running; he thought about fighting, but either action would be futile. So he walked calmly, stoically; he still had his dignity—for the moment, at least. Until he was shaking and crying, lying on the ground with no recourse but hopeless tears, he could pretend not to care.

*****

“What are you saying, Sheriff?” demanded James, Sr., arms crossed firmly on his broad chest, his face reddening by the minute.

“Look, Jim,” replied the sheriff kindly. “I know this is something that no father wants to hear, but I got two kids who tell me they heard him say it from his own lips. The kid’s a faggot.”

“Jesus Christ,” he swore. “Haven’t I been a good father? What did I do to deserve this, Rex?”

“I’ve known you for a long time. You’re a good man and a good father. It ain’t your fault. Sometimes there’s nothin’ to be done about it.”

“My only son is a faggot?!” Jim repeated, sitting down heavily on an old couch. “Fuckin’ hell.”

The silhouette in door of the shabby trailer went unnoticed as the two men, friends since childhood, talked about the ramifications of having a faggot for a son. That word kept getting used: faggot. The silhouette didn’t really need a name, wasn’t really a person; he was now just the faggot.

*****

“You sonofabitch,” snarled Jamie, clutching his bleeding shoulder with one hand. Gone was the soft face of his youth with it’s permanent semi-smile. Gone was the face of steel he wore in the face of their abuse. There was only rage, now—the culmination of years of silently suffering and trying to temper his emotions.

“How dare you speak to me like that, faggot?” Sheriff Rex Jenkle demanded, his eyes narrowing dangerously as he looked at the boy lying on the gravel before him.

“What are you gonna do?” he sneered. “Arrest me? Go ahead. At least they’ll take me to a hospital in prison.”

“I…” the sheriff faltered, unsure of how to react. This was not the quiet, docile boy he was used to.

“Or maybe you can arrest them, Sheriff?” he sniped, gesturing to the crowd of boys standing behind the sheriff.

“There’s no proof that they did this,” Jenkle insisted.

Jamie laughed. “You’re a coward, Rex. You’re too afraid to let them have their way with me, and you’re too afraid to hold them accountable. I don’t give a fuck anymore about what you do. Let them have their fun, if you want. I’ve got nothing left to lose.”

The pool of blood was growing larger as the gash in his shoulder bled freely. James struggled to his feet and limped past the sheriff to face the gang of boys watching him suffer.

“What do you want from me?” he screamed suddenly, startling everyone. His voice ragged and his eyes wild, he started coughing.

“What do you want?” he repeated again, his voice now icy and measured. “You want me to surrender? Because I do. I throw in the goddamn towel. You’ve beaten me through and through, and I’ve got nothing left for you to take.”

“Fuckin’ fag,” one of the boys spat out, but his heart wasn’t in it. Fascinated and repulsed by the depraved creature they had created, they could only watch, awestruck, as Jamie started to sob. He was broken.

They didn’t have long to enjoy watching his last defenses fall; they heard a car come speeding up the narrow road. The battered white pickup came to an abrupt stop, and Sean leaped out of the driver’s seat to come to his friend’s aid.

“Jesus Christ!” he swore softly as a bloody and semiconscious James collapsed into his arms.

“Guess what, Sean?” Jamie giggled deliriously. “They win.”

*****

“I’m sorry, son, there’s nothing I can do for you.” Sheriff Jenkle sat across from James and Sean in a small interrogation room at the local station; he had dismissed their accusations of assault with barely a pretense of caring. James had expected as much from the man who had told him in no uncertain terms that the faggots were not considered persons under the law, but Sean had insisted they come.

“Sir, may I ask you a question?” asked Sean, his obsequious courtesy mocking.

“I’m busy. Hurry up.” He shuffled his paper and looked at his watch and avoided James’s unwavering, penetrating gaze.

“Why did you decide to become a police officer?”

“Don’t play dumb with me, kid. You know the answer to that. Everyone does.”

“I know,” Sean stated calmly. “I just thought you could use a reminder.”

“And what would I need a reminder for, anyway?” Jenkle snapped.

“They lynched Ramon in the end, didn’t they? I just thought that, you know, James’s situation is similar to your friend’s.”

“Don’t ever – ever­ – speak lightly about that, hear me. That was nothing like this. Nothing.”

“Oh, it was,” Sean said in a steely voice, matching the sheriff glare for glare. “People killed him ‘cuz he was black, and Jake beat the shit out of Jamie ‘cuz he’s gay. Where’s the difference?”

“Get out of my office!” Jenkle shouted, rising abruptly to his feet.

“Good day, Sheriff.” Sean inclined his head slightly and walked to the door. He turned as he was about to leave, and looked Rex Jenkle in the eyes: “Think on it.”

*****

“What are we gonna do about him, Chief?” the deputy sheriff drawled as they drove along the interstate.

“About who, Pat?”

“You know. The faggot.”

“What is there to do about him?”

“What do ya’ mean, Chief?” Pat inquired quizzically.

“He’s not a criminal. Might have to do something if he gets himself beat up too bad. Some day he won’t come out of that hospital.”

“But Chief…he’s a faggot. In our county.”

“And since when is being a cocksucker a crime?”

“It’s unnatural.”

“Yes, it is, Pat. But the law is the law, and there’s nothing you or me can do about it.”

“I don’t like having to protect a fucking fag. Not one bit. He deserves every one of those broken bones.”

“Speak o’ the devil,” Jenkle chuckled, gesturing towards the open plain. “There’s his dog.”

“Pull over a minute, Chief,” said Pat gleefully. He reached into the back seat of the patrol car and grabbed a hunting rifle. He lowered his window and waited for the sheriff to stop.

He took aim and fired.

“Got it!” he exclaimed with a laugh.

Jenkle laughed along with his underling, but it was a forced laugh.

“What was the point of that, Pat?” he asked after a few minutes of driving.

“It was fun.”

“It was cruel.”

“Oh, come off it, boss. Don’t tell me you’re defending the faggot…”

“No,” he said slowly, shaking his head vigorously as though it might clear his mind. “Of course not.”

*****

“James!” growled a voice from the living room. He stiffened and reluctantly turned to face his father. He had hoped to sneak in unnoticed.

“Yes, father?” he said meekly, folding his hands in front of him.

“My old friend Rex came down here last weekend.”

James shut his eyes and took a deep breath. He remembered that conversation to which he was not meant to be privy. He had spent the whole week hoping against hope that his father wouldn’t care. “Oh?”

“Yes. And he had some interesting things to say. Can you guess what they were?”

“I can.”

“Well?”

“I’m a faggot.”

For such a large man, he could move very quickly. James felt a stinging slap across his cheek, and the next thing he knew he was lying on the floor, the acrid taste of blood heavy in his mouth.

“Get out of my house, faggot. I...have...no...son.”

Dumbstruck, Jamie sat on the floor unblinking, unmoving.

I...have...no...son.

I...have...no...son.

I...have...no...son.

Those words echoed through his head as he tried to process what was happening. But he couldn’t; it was too overwhelming. A sharp pain in his chest knocked the wind out of him and brought him back to reality.

“Pack. Sean’s good-for-nothing parents are stupid enough to take you in, so get the fuck out of my house. And don’t ever darken this door again. Understand, faggot?”

“Yes, sir.” It was barely a whisper. James felt very small, just then: not quite fifteen and with no place to call home.

*****

Even though it was December – December 25^th, to be precise – the air was still pleasantly warm out. It never really got cold this far south, but that particular Christmas was warmer than any in recent memory. Sitting alone, as he often did, James enjoyed the familiar sight of the stream running through the canyon. The water level was up, and Copper was rollicking around in the slow current.

Squinting against the glare as the sun rose over the top of the cliff face, he reached into his bag and pulled out a small, impeccably wrapped package.

“Merry Christmas, Copper,” he said with a sigh, throwing the gift onto the ground beside the river. Puppy-like despite her age, she bounded over to it and, smelling the dog bones inside, promptly tore the wrapping paper to shreds. Content to lie in the sun and enjoy her tasty reward, she ignored the brand new rubber ball.

“What would I do without you?” Jamie mused aloud, draping his body over the warm stones by the river.

He dipped his hand into the bubbling stream and felt the pleasant coolness of the fresh spring water against his skin. Gone were the days when he liked nothing better than to wrestle and roughhouse with Copper; gone were the days when he derived joy from the simple act of throwing a ball as far as he could until his arm was too sore to continue; gone were days when he found satisfaction in just being with Sean. No, all he enjoyed now was sitting here, alone, and watching his dog run. She never changed. She might sense his sadness and come to comfort him with a lick, but such moments of empathy were fleeting. He watched her not because she was his oldest friend, but because her playful, uncomplicated happiness reminded him of better times, when he too was capable of carefree enjoyment.

“Merry Christmas, Jamie.”

*****

Sean rocked back and forth, in the shade of the cliff face, cradling Jamie in his arms. Jamie was crying like a baby, and for the first time Sean felt as if James’s spirit was broken. He had seen tears of rage from Jamie—and tears of pain and hurt—but never tears of utter despair: hopeless tears, the result of a burden greater than any one person should have to bear.

“I can’t do it any more, Sean,” he mumbled thickly.

“Don’t say that,” but the words sounded feeble. Sean didn’t know how Jamie could do it any more, either.

“I thought I didn’t care. I thought if I could hate them as much as they hate me, it would be okay. But it’s not. All I do any more is cry, and hate, and silently suffer their torments. I will have no revenge. There will be no vindication of what I’ve suffered. No matter how much I hate them, it still cuts me every time I see the malice in their eyes. I can’t face that any more.”

What was there to say? Sean could think of nothing, so he just kissed Jamie gently on the head and let him cry on his shoulder. The conspicuous absence of Copper weighed heavily on both of them. That, Sean guessed, had been the final blow.

“Three more months,” he whispered at last. “Then you’re done with school and can get away from here.”

“And what good will that do? I have no money and nowhere to go.”

“We’ll go somewhere together and see if we can’t start over.”

“Start over?” repeated Jamie. “Can I do that? Can I ever really put these years behind me?”

“Of course, you can.” There was no conviction in Sean’s voice.

“Faggot. That’s what I am; that’s what I’ll always be in their eyes. Nothing more. That’s a powerful word, with a long shadow. I’m not sure I can ever put that behind me.”

“But you’ve got to try. I love you, Jamie, and I don’t want to lose you because of them. You can show them you’re the stronger. You can show yourself that life is worth living.”

Jamie’s tears subsided, and the two sat in silence as the sun moved slowly across the sky.

“Is it?” he asked after a while.

Holding Jamie’s hands firmly in his own, Sean met Jamie’s eyes with his own, and held them there.

“Yes.”

Their stare continued until Jamie finally looked away, saying nothing. Shadows flitted across the uneven surface of the canyon walls, and Jamie lost himself in their movements. This place that held so many memories of Copper and Sean—the two he’d loved so dearly —was both comforting and haunting at the same time.

“Have I ever told you how grateful I am for you, Sean? I don’t think I could have faced this alone.”

Seeing Jamie crack a small smile, Sean’s face split into a wide grin.

“A toast,” he announced, holding up his bottle of water. “To living well – the best revenge.”

“Cheers,” murmured Jamie, leaning up to place a soft kiss on Sean’s lips.

*****

With a dazed look in his eyes, Sean sat on the cast-iron bench staring blankly ahead of him. The small garden situated behind the funeral home was a pleasant place to have a memorial service and think about the past. There was no eulogy; Sean had no need to speak aloud to himself or his parents about James’s life or death.

There were other, similar benches scattered around the garden, but they had remained unoccupied, except for the one his parents had used before they had finally departed. Sean thought it fitting that he should be the last one left to mourn. He lost track of time as he sat in solitude, at times speaking aloud to himself and at times in silence. The sound of an old gate swinging open broke the tranquility of the atmosphere, and Sean turned his head to see the sheriff step quietly into the garden.

“Why did you come here?” he asked coldly, turning to face Rex Jenkle.

“I pay my respects to everyone who dies in the county,” he responded simply.

“Even faggots?”

Jenkle sat down on the bench beside Sean and didn’t respond. His shoulders were hunched and his hands clasped together. He looked old, suddenly.

“They killed him, Rex.”

“Son, those boys may be bullies, but that don’t make them killers.”

Sean laughed hoarsely, mocking the sheriff. “It doesn’t matter if they pushed him or if he jumped; they still killed him. You killed him, Sheriff. All of you. Them, his father, you, this whole godforsaken town. And you didn’t just kill him, either. You took everything from him first. You took away any chance of him leading a normal life. You took away his dignity. You turned his parents against him. Hell, you even took his dog – his best friend – from him.”

More silence.

“Do you know what it’s like, Sheriff, to live your entire life in the shadows of other people’s expectations?” He paused, waiting for an answer. “Well?”

“No.” It was a faint whisper of a reply.

“Jamie did. He knew that no matter what he did, his father would never be proud of him. He knew that he would never have friends like the other boys did. He knew that his life would be spent in the shadow of that word you throw around so freely: faggot. What do you, what do any of them know about James? He was a ‘faggot.’ He wasn’t Jamie who wanted to be a vet. He wasn’t James who could catch a football better than anyone on the football team. He was the Faggot. Maybe you’re right and they didn’t push him off that cliff. But they still killed him, as sure as you did.”

When he finished, he stood up and watched silently as Rex Jenkle stared blankly at the grass beneath his feet. Sean had wasted enough breath; now it was time for him to grieve alone. He walked over to where his horse was grazing peacefully and mounted the old mare, holding the reins in one hand as he gently cradled the box of ashes in the other. It was a long journey to the top of the canyon.

The sheriff watched the boy until he vanished from sight, leaving him sitting alone in the shade of the small park. He shut his eyes, and voices echoed through his head. He heard himself swearing justice for Ramon; he heard James sobbing in the street as his tormentors finally broke his spirit; he heard the many, many things he had said to the boy. He heard Sean’s accusation: You killed him, Sheriff. All of you.

© 2008 Menzo