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“That’s what he did to us,” Cali clarified. “Isn’t that what people like him do?”
“Right. The bomb in the trunk thing,” Remy said reminding us of what Armand’s henchman did while trying to kill Hil. “So let’s say we plant a bomb in his house and we kill him. We would have killed a man. You, with your small town ‘Ah shucks’, and please and thank yous, do you think you could live with that?”
“Why should we care what happens to him?” Cali asked bitterly.
“Okay,” Remy said getting uncomfortable. “I know he shot you…”
“Yeah, he shot me,” Cali said turning with venom.
“I know he shot you,” Remy repeated trying to calm him down. “But, there would be no way you could live with yourself if you were a part of that. Yes, Armand is a piece of trash who doesn’t deserve to live. But, you don’t want to be the person who makes that happen. Trust me.”
A knot in my stomach developed listening to Remy’s plea. As it did, a heartbreaking truth dawned on me. It was the same for Hil and Cali.
“I’ve never killed anybody!” Remy shouted feeling everyone’s stares. “Jesus! What do you all think of me?” he asked before getting up and storming outside.
I looked at Hil and Cali as they both looked back at me. Remy was right. We were all thinking it.
“I guess I should talk to him,” Hil said apprehensively.
“No. I’ll do it,” I said hoping the time we spent together would make the conversation easier.
Exiting the kitchen and the bed and breakfast, I spotted Remy sitting in his car. I half expected him to drive off but he didn’t. He just sat there behind the wheel. So I joined him.
“Having people think that was a lot easier when I didn’t give a shit,” Remy volunteered when my door was closed.
I shifted in the seat to face him and put a hand on his knee.
“What was it like growing up the way you did? It couldn’t have been easy.”
“Our father cared about two things, his family and his pack. Never once did I question if he loved us. He said it constantly. But, my father wasn’t a good man. I watched him do things to other people that he would burn in hell for if it existed.”
“Like what?” I asked hesitantly.
“You don’t wanna know.”
“You’re right. I don’t. I would prefer to think of your father as the man who treated my mother well and paid for me to go to college. Never was your father anything but kind around me and I’d like to believe that that was who he was.”
“And that’s how you should remember him.”
“No, it isn’t.”
“Why not? He’s gone now. What does it matter?”
“It matters because you shouldn’t have to carry the weight of what you’ve seen on your own.”
Remy looked at me softening. “You couldn’t take it. The things I’ve seen…”
“Ya know, I’m not as helpless as people think I am. I’m skinny, but I’m pretty strong.”
Remy smiled. “I know you are. You’re the strongest person I know. But you have your own shit to deal with. At least I had a father, as insane as he was. You had to raise yourself.”
“I had my mother,” I quickly added feeling defensive.
“Yeah, but you had no one to teach you how to be a man.”
That quieted me. As a gay guy, growing up without a father was always a sore topic for me. When I was a kid and it became clear to everyone what I was, I overheard one of my mother’s friends say that if she didn’t bring a man into my life, I would turn gay.
My mother immediately came to my defense saying that there would be nothing wrong with if I did turn out gay. She said she would be proud of me either way. That shut her up.
