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They nodded.
“He died.” I hoped this didn’t set off a panic in my mother. I couldn’t handle that tonight. “He was sick. So, it’s not like it was unexpected, but it’s still really sad. He was a good guy. I liked him a lot.”
“From AIDS complications?” Mom asked.
“Yeah.” I braced myself. This was her damage. This was what George’s death had done to her and to all of us. She’d freak out now. I’d feel guilty. She’d drink valerian-root tea or maybe even go back to the dark side by taking a Valium.
Dad took hold of Mom’s hand and squeezed, giving her a significant look. She took a shuddery breath, let it out, and took a big gulp from her wine before saying, “That’s sad, sweetheart. I’m so sorry.”
“Me, too.”
“Are you okay? Do you want to talk about it?” Dad asked.
I shook my head, the heaviness pulling at me and making me so tired. “It’s just strange. Earlier today, I found something at the library, a thing I knew would interest him. He likes gossip, and…well…” I sighed and rubbed my temples. I was starting to get a headache. The last few days had caught up to me. “I don’t want to talk about it. Not tonight.”
“Of course,” Mom said, patting my hand. “Whatever you want. We’re here for you.”
We ate tacos, and I asked them questions about how they’d spent the day, and they asked me about my new job at the library. There wasn’t that much to say. The most interesting thing that’d happened was something I didn’t want to share right now.
Afterwards, when Mom had finished her wine, she broached the topic of Daniel and how our date had gone.
For once, it was the right thing to ask. Just remembering the evening before made me feel warm. I smiled as I told her about the twinkle lights, Daniel’s delicious pot pie, and watching the sunset colors dance on the water. I left out everything about going up to his room.
“A romantic!” Dad said. “A guy after your mother’s heart.”
She smiled. “Aren’t you glad you took flowers?”
I chuckled. “I am. Yeah.”
“Well, he sounds like a sweet guy.”
Finally, someone else was being called sweet for a change. “He’s honorable, too. He’s always doing his best by everyone in his life.” Even now, even tonight, I could tell on the phone that he’d been wanting to do his best by Bobby—to do more for him, even in his death. “I think it must be exhausting for him. He puts so many other people first.”
“Then you’ll want to help him however you can,” Dad said.
“I do, but he’s not so great at letting people help.”
“Keep at it,” Dad encouraged. “Sometimes it’s a trust issue. Once he knows you’re there for him,reallythere, he’ll let you help.”
I hoped Dad was right, but as it was, I was too tired and sad to think about it anymore. I went upstairs to prepare for bed.
Taking out my contacts, I washed my face and brushed my teeth, before staring at myself in the mirror. I looked the same as I had before I went to Atlanta to see Adam, but I felt like an entirely different Peter now. I was someone Adam would never know. I supposed I had been for quite some time now.
When I got in bed, I closed my eyes and ran through every photo I’d ever taken of Bobby—and there weren’t too many. I hadn’t wanted him to feel like I saw him as an oddity, or that I was using his illness for my art.
My favorite photo was of him holding Milky Way as she ecstatically tried to lick his face. I smiled. He’d seemed so alive in those moments, laughing and squirming, without any trace of the death that had been hunting him since before we’d even met.
I wondered if Milky Way would miss him. She’d already been living with Daniel for a few weeks and seemed happy there now. I didn’t know what I hoped for. It seemed sad to think she wouldn’t miss Bobby at all, but it seemed even sadder to think of a grieving dog. There was no way to explain to her where he’d gone or why he’d never come back.
But Daniel would take good care of Milky Way, the same way he took care of everyone in his life.
Tears stung my eyes. I wished I could have told him about the connection I’d found between my dead uncle and a living photographer. A man who’d written him love letters. I felt in my heart he would have been delighted by that.
I squeezed my eyes shut, willing sleep to come. This was the first time in my memory that someone I knew personally had died. I didn’t know how I was supposed to feel, or what I was supposed to do to honor him.
One thing I knew for sure: AIDS was one hateful bitch.
Chapter Twelve
