"Id rather spend an eternity of eternities burning in hell than one good day in heaven with you!"

Chapter 13

When I tried to open the door, it stuck, just like it always did. With practiced ease, I nudged it with my shoulder, and it swung open. I stood in the doorway, staring into the house where I’d spent most of my miserable childhood. For the millionth time, I wondered what I was doing here.

Then I felt a warm hand take mine, and I glanced at the man standing next to me. My husband. My partner. He was the reason. He squeezed my hand gently. “If you aren’t ready…”

“I’m as ready as I’ll ever be,” I replied, and stepped into the house.

Immediately there was that feeling of drowning. The air was too thick, and stank of alcohol and cigarettes and barely concealed hatred, just like it always had.

I walked to the front window and popped it open. It, too, stuck, as if the house itself was fighting against me. Maybe it was. A gust of cool, fresh air blew in and I breathed it in deeply.

“Joan never had the windows open,” I muttered. “Even when it was hot, she’d barely crack them. Said she had allergies.”

Justin just stood in the living room, awkwardly staring at me.

“She didn’t have any fucking allergies,” I finished, glancing around the room. Most of the furniture was covered in large sheets to keep it from getting dusty until the Goodwill could come pick it up. Other than that, nothing had been touched. No, she hadn’t had allergies. She just didn’t want the neighbors to hear… anything.

“Hasn’t Claire come by yet?” Justin asked, his voice sounding strained. I wasn’t surprised at how nervous he seemed. When a place is full of hate and violence long enough, you can feel it, even after the events themselves have passed. I may not believe in God, but I believe in what I can feel.

“Of course not,” I said a little louder than I meant to. Like whistling in the dark. “She said she’d come by tomorrow, after I told her there was no fucking way I was finding everything on her fucking list that she wanted.”

Justin offered me a small smile, and I felt myself grin back.

This wasn’t going to be easy.

“Brian,” Justin said softly, as I passed him and walked into the kitchen. I opened those windows, too, and felt the air in the house start to flow.

“Brian,” Justin said more firmly.

I turned to glance at him.

“Tell me what we’re doing here,” he said, lowering his voice again.

Tongue in cheek, I stared at him. Wasn’t it obvious? “Goodwill will be here in two days. They’re taking everything that’s left.”

Justin nodded slowly.

“I have to get all the important paperwork,” I finished, walking past him again to head up the stairs. I knew most of the legal documents were in her room, tucked away in her closet, under her hat boxes. Of course, that wasn’t the only reason, but fuck if I was going to spell things out for him.

Justin followed me closely, as if he was scared to be alone here.

The fifth stair creaked, just like it always had, but I stepped on it just the same. I stopped and stared down at my foot, resting on the creaky step, and felt myself smile.

Justin almost bumped into me, then put a hand on my back, looking up at my face with confusion. “What’s so funny?”

“I always had to skip over this step,” I said, looking down at it. “It squeaks.” I pressed my foot back down on it again, hard. It squeaked loudly. “Now it doesn’t matter how much noise I make.” It felt liberating, like the first time your parents leave you home alone, and you stand with the refrigerator door open and drink straight from the carton.

Justin followed me up the stairs, stepping on that step hard, too. I glanced back and he grinned at me.

I hesitated at the top of the steps, and then walked to the door that had once been my room. No, cell is a better word. It had once been my cell. I pushed it open.

Justin stared into it, eyes wide. There was that shitty hard old single bed, a few soccer posters on the wall, ratty and torn. The dark blue curtains were pulled shut, and the light sneaking through them caught dust floating in the air. I entered the room, hands in my pockets, glancing around.

“This… was your room,” he said softly.

“Once upon a time,” I replied. It was mostly empty. I’d taken everything that was important to me when I’d moved to college. But there were still a few things here and there.

Justin walked to my old dresser and lifted the small trophy from it, eyes wide. “This is yours?”

I nodded, glancing over his shoulder at it.

“You played soccer?” he said, turning his head to look at me.

I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, but don’t spread it around. People might think I’m straight.”

He laughed and nudged me with his elbow, setting the trophy down. “Soccer players aren’t straight. Look at their little shorts.”

I laughed. It felt good to laugh in here. I wondered how many times I had laughed in this room before. Not many, I thought.

“I want to take this home. Gus will think it’s great,” he said.

“If you want. I’ll be right back,” I said. “I’ll just get the paperwork.”

Justin caught my arm in his hand and gave me a searching look. “What is this about, Brian?”

I stared in to his eyes and sighed heavily. Time to ‘fess up. “You always ask me questions about my past.”

He nodded slowly, an odd expression on his face.

“Well, I guess I thought now was as good a time as ever to answer them.”

His face paled slightly and he released my arm, sitting on the edge of my old bed. “Okay,” he said softly.

I could tell he was nervous. Fuck, I was nervous. But this was the last chance. I wasn’t going to take these memories back to our home. This is where they belonged. Sunshine wanted to know about my childhood? Fine. But this is the only place I was willing to talk about it.

Joan’s room was perfect, as always. The bed was made, the curtains were pulled closed, and the clock appeared to be set to perfect time. There were three crucifixes on the walls. I went to the closet and pulled it open, remembering the last time I had to do this. When Jack died. A shudder went down my spine and I pulled Joan’s hat boxes down, finally finding the box that contained all of the important paperwork I knew we needed.

Birth certificates, hospital records, the paperwork on the house… it was all here. And so was the photo album. I grabbed them all, shut the closet, and went back into my old room.

Justin was sitting on the edge of the bed, looking around in wonder. I’d forgotten that he’d never even been here before. He’d never met Jack. Part of me regretted that. I would have loved to rub Justin in his face. But the rest of me was glad. He didn’t need to know that evil fucking old man. He didn’t need to be touched by him.

I sat down next to him and opened the folder.

“Is everything there?” Justin asked.

“Everything we need,” I replied. The first few papers were just birth certificates. Justin took mine and smiled, brushing his fingertips over the footprint at the bottom. “You were really small,” he said.

I snorted. “Thanks, Sunshine,” I said sarcastically. “That’s a real turn-on.”

He chuckled and nudged me, setting the papers aside.

“What’s this?” he asked, holding one up.

“My baptism records,” I relied.

He looked at me, eyes wide. “You were baptised?”

“Irish Catholic, Sunshine. They do it when you’re a baby. You don’t really get a choice.”

He blinked a few times, then laughed.

“What?” I asked, tense.

“I just think it’s funny,” he said. “You were baptized, and you ended up fucking a priest. Who would you confess to?!”

I felt myself smile. “I don’t know, but I think it would have taken more Hail Marys than I could do in a million years to make up for it.”

Now we got to the fun part. The hospital records. I shifted to sit closer to him, our legs and shoulders pressed together. Suddenly there was a lump in my throat. Part of me wondered if I was doing the right thing. Maybe I should just hide all of this from him. Maybe sharing it would only distribute the poison, not stop it.

But he had the right to know.

“What’s this?” Justin asked, looking over the first page.

“My hospital records,” I said. I cleared my throat. The words were hard to find.

“There’s… a lot of them,” Justin said slowly.

I didn’t meet his gaze. I couldn’t see the look on his face. “Yeah,” was all I said.

The papers were in order. The first page was my first hospital visit, after I was born. I didn’t remember it very clearly. I’d only been five. Broken arm, it read.

“I fell down the front steps,” I said, my voice strained.

Justin tensed. He knew what I meant. “You had help,” he replied.

I shrugged, and pulled out the next page. Broken leg.

“Fall down the steps again?” he asked. His voice was strained.

I shook my head. “Fell off my first bike.”

“Kids don’t break their legs falling off a little bike,” he said. He sounded angry, but it was a cold anger.

“No,” I replied. I turned the page again. Bruised ribs. The next one was for a mild concussion. The next one was just a superficial laceration. Five stitches. The next one was a broken toe.

I grinned and nudged him. “This really was my fault,” I said. “Soccer.”

He shifted forward to force me to look into his eyes. They were glassy. “Brian,” he said softly.

“Hey, you wanted to know,” I replied defensively. I didn’t want to hurt him. Fuck, but I didn’t want to hurt him by showing him these things.

He took my hand gently and rubbed it with his thumb. “Go on,” he said softly.

We went through the final few papers. Another broken arm. Fractured collarbone. A few more stitches. One more concussion. A few other things, here and there. It was a history of my life, from five to eighteen.

We got to the bottom of the pile and I felt like I was going to throw up.

“I didn’t know,” he said softly.

I looked at him again. “I didn’t let you.”

He grinned slightly. “I’m glad you are now.”

I shrugged. “It doesn’t do any good.”

“It does,” he insisted, taking my hand again and squeezing it. “I need to know. Otherwise I’ll never really know you. Not like Michael does.”

Ah. There it was. The jealousy. “You already know me better than him.”

“But he’s always had this part of you. He knew you when…”

“He knew me in middle school,” I said. “He doesn’t know about any of this. And I sure as hell didn’t ever talk to him about why, or what happened. He just figured it out.”

Justin nodded once, and then brushed his fingers through my hair and kissed my cheek. I felt my heart beat a little faster, and my stomach settle.

I set the paperwork aside, and opened the photo album. The first picture staring up at us was the first one ever taken of me.

Justin burst into giggles and yanked the book out of my hands. “Oh my god! Look how cute you were!”

I groaned and rolled my eyes, but grinned. “Well, I always have been.”

He smiled at me and turned the page. There were pictures of me in my crib, naked and grinning widely. He laughed again. “You still smile like that.”

I watched over his shoulder as he turned the pages. There were baby photos. Photos of me in my baptism gown. Photos of Claire holding me. I hadn’t looked at this photo album in a very long time. Somehow there had never seemed to be a point. What good was it looking back at a childhood that was nothing but shit? But suddenly, sharing it with Justin, I saw the small pieces of good that were there.

He paused over a picture of me and Claire, both standing in front of the house holding our bookbags. “First day of kindergarten,” I said.

He chuckled. My hair was a mess in it, sticking up in the front, and I had a huge cheesy grin on my face. “You look excited. I never wanted to go to school.”

“It was a way out,” I said simply.

His shoulders tensed again and he nodded.

Then there were pictures of me growing up. There I was with my first bike, then my first skateboard. My first haircut. There were pictures of Christmas presents. My first Lego set. My first Atari. My first Star Wars action figures.

There were also photos of me with my first cast. My first stitches. My first crutches.

He would hesitate over each page, examining the faces of the people in them closely.

“Your mother’s not in many of these,” he said.

“She took most of them,” I replied. “She didn’t like to be in the photos. Just like she didn’t like to be around for anything else.”

He looked at me again, his expression sad, but not full of pity like I expected. Just… sad. “She wasn’t around much?”

“She was here physically,” I replied. I pointed to a family picture that must have been taken by an uncle or something. Joan held a wine glass, Jack held a beer. Claire and I sat on the floor in front of them. I was scowling. “But she was usually drunk.”

“They both were, weren’t they?” Justin asked, brushing a finger over my face in the photo.

“Yeah. But when Joan was drunk, she’d disappear. When Jack was drunk…”

“He’d lash out,” Justin said.

I just nodded, my stomach tensing again. As if he knew, Justin’s hand found mine again, holding it gently.

Then there was a photo of myself and Mikey. I was really smiling in that one, and we had our arms around each other.

“That’s the first picture of us,” I said.

“You look happy,” Justin said, staring intently at it. “He really meant a lot to you.”

“He was the only way to escape,” I replied. My voice was strained now.

Justin just nodded, and kept turning the pages. There were more photos of me and Mikey, and less of me and Claire.

“Where are the photos of your sister?” Justin asked.

“There’s other photo albums of her,” I said. “There’s just this one of me.”

“You grew apart?” he asked.

I hesitated before replying. “I started taking the beatings Joan wouldn’t. It was me or Claire. I didn’t want Jack beating on her. I thought… even though she was the older one, it was my job.” My voice was shaking now, and I squeezed Justin’s hand harder. The words were almost impossible to say. “I resented her after a while. She wanted to pretend everything was okay.”

“She still does,” Justin said. His voice was hard.

“Yeah. She still does.”

The last few pages were mostly me from high school. There were no more pictures of me playing soccer. Instead, there was me and my science club friends. Justin grinned and giggled a little, mumbling ‘geek.’

Then there were pictures Mikey and I took, wearing outfits I would rather forget.

Justin laughed softly. “What were you wearing?!” The acid-washed jeans and t-shirt I had cut the sleeves and bottom off of so my stomach showed looked ridiculous now. At the time, though, I knew exactly how hot I was.

I nudged him with my elbow. “It was the 80s. We looked very cool, trust me.”

“Oh, sure,” he said, his voice sarcastic. “Nice mullet,” he said.

I made a face. “Tell no one.”

He grinned at me weakly, shutting the book.

The last photo had been me with my luggage in front of my shitty old first car, leaving for college. The look on my face was resolute. My eyes were dark. I wasn’t ever coming back.

“I’m sorry,” Justin said. His eyes were starting to get even glassier, and red. He was going to cry. Fuck.

“Don’t,” I said. “It’s in the past.”

“But… but Brian, this is… this is horrible!” he insisted, turning to face me. He took my face in his hands. “I had no idea! Why didn’t someone report them?! Why didn’t social services take you away?! Debbie should have-“

“Deb tried. Things weren’t like they are now. People thought it was best not to get involved. And if a father beat his son once in a while, it was probably because the kid deserved it.”

“Brian,” he said softly, a few tears trickling down his cheeks.

I looked away, pulling my head from his grasp. I didn’t want to see that. “Besides,” I said casually, throwing my voice into a well practiced Irish accent. “We were Irish, and that’s the way the Irish are.”

Justin giggled a little, wiping his face on the back of his arm. “That was hot,” he mumbled.

I snorted and looked at him again. “I didn’t show you this because I want pity. I don’t.”

He nodded quickly. “I don’t pity you.”

I arched an eyebrow at him.

“I pity them,” he said.

Now I was confused.

“They never even knew you,” he said. His eyes were darker now, and I couldn’t pull my gaze from them. “They missed out.”

I felt myself grin just a little. “They didn’t deserve to know me.”

“No,” Justin said. “They didn’t.”

I had expected more yelling, to be honest. Yelling and queening out. Or maybe sobs, and pity. I expected him to make a big deal out of it, and make me extremely uncomfortable.

Instead, he took my face in his hands again, and pulled me to him. Our foreheads bumped gently. “I love you, Brian.”

I shut my eyes tightly. Was that the first time I’d ever heard that in this room? In this house? I swallowed hard.

“I love you,” he repeated.

Moments later, he had his arms around me, and my face was pressed into his hair. And if I cried a little, he didn’t say anything.

We left an hour later, a box of paperwork and photos under my arm, along with that stupid trophy. I left everything else. I didn’t want or need anything from Joan and Jack. I never had. I never would.

And maybe someday sonnyboy would ask about his grandparents. Maybe someday he’d ask about my childhood. And when he was old enough, I supposed he’d have the right to know, too. Although… I’d probably hide the worst from him. Justin was the only person who’d ever know the full truth.

I locked the front door and took a deep breath, staring back at the house that had meant so much hell.

“We moved here when I went into middle school,” I said. “Jack had a new job. Sometimes I thought I’d never escape.” I was being far more honest than I had ever even been with myself, let alone Justin. It felt… good.

“But you did,” he said. He kissed my cheek, having to lean up on his tiptoes to do it. I turned to face him. “Let’s go home,” he said.

Home. This place had never been home. I never thought I’d have one. But now I thought to the country manor that I’d bought us, and the furniture we’d put in it, and the fireplace we’d fucked in front of so many times, and the way it felt to sit down to dinner with… with my partner. And my son.

The past didn’t matter anymore. Maybe I’d never fully escape it. Maybe I’d have nightmares forever. Maybe part of me would always be a scared little boy. But that was okay. Because I had someone to share it with, and that made it… a lot easier, somehow.

‘Duh,’ I could hear Debbie saying in my ear. ‘Of course it does, what do you think I was always telling you?!’

I felt myself smile. “Yeah. Let’s go home.”