Better Left Unsaid

"So anyway… as it turns out, Topher went out with Luke instead and I think he like, fell… hard… because he says he's been out with the guy like five times since then, and there have been PDA sightings in Panera and at battlefield park…" I laugh. "Do you know all of this already? Are you, like, watching all of us make fools of ourselves down here? Did you *see* the little…"

"What are you doing here?"

I've been coming to see Nick for a couple of hours every Saturday. I catch him up on current events and whatever, what the guys have been up to, give him the latest gossip, you know… the kinds of things you would put in a letter if there were somewhere to send it. Maybe that sounds corny, huh? Or obsessive… or codependent... whatever, I don't know, I just want to do it… it makes me feel better. Anyway, I'm so into my conversation… or, well… monologue with Nick that the voice behind me takes a minute to register.

"I thought I told you to stay away from here." Joan's icy voice sends chills up my spine and I get that nervous feeling in my stomach like a kid that's been caught doing something his mother told him not to, and now he knows he's going to get punished.

"Hello, Joan." I say, but I stay sitting cross-legged in the grass where she found me.

"You're trespassing. You know you're not to come here."

"It's not your property, Joan."

"Don't start that with me." She snaps.

"I'm not starting anything. You are."

"Listen young man…"

"Sean."

She ignores me. "Please leave now, you're upsetting me… I don't want you here."

"He does, Joan."

"It's Mrs. Russo…"

"Oh. Then you can call me Mr. Dugan." I try to keep my cool. She's allowed to be upset about Nick, he was her son. But I have a right to be here, I won't let her do what she did to us at Nick's funeral, not again.

Not anymore.

Joan gives me her sour lemon face. She has some flowers in her arms so I decide to put her off-guard. Surprise her by like, being nice.

"Want some help with those?" I ask. I pull the built-in vase out of the headstone and lock it into place upright for her.

"No thank you." Joan replies all snippy and tight-lipped. I take a deep breath. Breathe, Sean. I tell myself. This isn't about you, or her, it's about Nick.

"Let me get you some water for them…" I say, getting up. I need to walk away for a minute anyway. I turn and head for the hose before she can get snarky again.

Relax. You’re right this time, you are… you can stand your ground now, Nick isn’t around to ask you not to… I try to steel myself for the confrontation I can feel building in my body… why can’t she just be friendly? She doesn’t even have to *like* me! I return with some water in a plastic container. Joan is kneeling next to Nick’s grave arranging flowers, putting them one by one into the vase. I kneel close to pour water into it for her.

“I’ll get that.” She snaps and grabs the water from me.

“Jesus, kill a guy for trying…”

“I don’t want your help!” Joan literally shouts at me, looking into my eyes. “I don’t want help from any of you people! I want you all to go away and leave Nick alone… look what you did to him!”

“You now what?" I just snap. "You don’t KNOW me, Joan!” I shout back in an outburst I have no hope of stopping anymore. For her to look at me and tell me I did this to him… me… after… everything I went through with him…

“You don’t know anything about me! You want to know what I did to Nick? Do you? I’ll tell you what I did…” I can feel months of grief and frustration building up behind my words. “I had fucking great sex with him for seven years. He slept around some because he wanted to, he made his own choices, but I stuck by him even when I didn’t have to and then he got sick and I…”

I stop, inhale deeply and swallow hard feeling a lump in my throat.

“…I still stood by him, you know that? And he didn’t get it from me, no… I’m healthy Joan… I’m negative, you see what I’m saying? I stood by him while he got sicker… and withered and weakened and wasted away… I spent nights in the hospital with him and when he could be home I nursed him and bathed him and where the HELL were YOU exactly, Joan? Huh? Where the FUCK were you? You fucking hypocrite… you let him DIE and you never said goodbye to him, you never said you loved him… you never listened to what kind of funeral he wanted, or who he wanted there… no… you just overlooked all the things you didn’t want to see and steamrolled right ahead with your own goddamn yuppie fucking clean white funeral. Well fuck that. You didn’t love him like I did. Nobody loved him like *I* did! No… nobody…”

I guess I finally run out of air because I just can’t say anything more. I can feel hot tears stinging my eyes and my throat is sore from shouting and tight with this aching… I don’t know what happens next exactly, but Joan is suddenly on her feet and she slaps me.

She fucking slaps me. Hard. Across the face.

“Bitch.” I spit at her in maybe the most hateful tone I have ever said anything.

She returns my outburst with a cold stare.

“I loved your son. My Nick. He was beautiful and smart and sexy and took care of me and I loved him. Did you love him? Really?”

Joan just stands there staring at me angrily. I think she actually doesn't know what to say. It's time to end this so I kneel quickly and apologize to Nick. “I’m sorry, I know you wouldn’t have wanted that… I’m sorry, baby, but I had to...” I tell him and then I’m back on my feet and showing Joan my back as I head back to the bus stop.