February 16, 1899 

So that was it. His story just ended. There were no happy moments to finish off a sad, failed marriage. There were only slight glimpses of joy that he never got to fully live out, and wasn’t that a sad life? 

I can’t help but stare at my father in dumbfounded awe. I never really thought about him having a life before my siblings and I came along, but apparently, there is so much more to him than just what I’ve seen. There is so much more to him than just what anyone has seen. And I didn’t know he smoked.  

I have something I want to say, but for the first time in my life, I don’t know if I want to say it. Usually, I’m all about speaking my mind, but right now, I really don’t know. I came out here to scream at him, and I really want to do that, but I sort of feel bad for him. Then again, it would be cowardly of me to decide against scolding him when that was the whole purpose of storming out here. I mean, I didn’t spend all that time consoling my mother while Gunther applied his newly learned medical skills just so that my father could get away scot-free for hurting her. I pity him though, and his reason was valid as well, but I can’t agree that what happened called for a violent outbreak.  

“Pa,” I say to get his attention. 

He turns to me while still in his pensive state, seeming not entirely all there. It’s like he’s in shock or something.  

“You should apologize to Ma,” I tell him, unable to look at him directly in case I’m overstepping.  

He’s just like me in the way he looks away timidly, ashamed of what he did. 

“Seriously, John.” 

“Don’t call me that.” 

“You need to apologize.” 

“I will.” 

“Will you?” I doubt him, but he doesn’t say anything in response. 

I sigh in defeat and shake my head. He’s hopeless. This is exactly why he and my mother don’t have a good relationship. Yeah, they have their moments where they are sweet and loving. Those times always make it seem as if they genuinely adore each other, but most of the time, it’s like this. He’s cold and distant, and she ignores him at every chance she gets. It’s dysfunctional alright, but they both seem content with it. I can’t stand it, but I understand. 

I stand up from the stairs and start to go inside, but before I can get too far away, Pa grabs my arm.  

“James, wait for a moment. You should... You should bring your friend by sometime if everything works out between you two.” 

“I don’t think that’s such a great idea,” I object, but he stops me with a wave of his hand. 

“Nope, I need to meet the boy who’s stolen my son’s heart.” 

 “Okay, okay.” 

I try to walk off again, but then he adds, “And I will. For you. I’ll apologize.” 

That puts a smile on my face, so I leave him there on the porch, alone with only the fiery embers of his cigarette to act as his torch in the darkness. Maybe its dim orange glow will guide him in his search for who he was before; maybe it won’t. I think he used to be better. I think he used to be simple and innocent and naïve. I think he used to be just like me. I think he still wants to be like me.  

As soon as I step through the front door, Gunther is at my side, asking what happened, but I can't deal with him right now. I’m far too tired and emotionally worn out. I keep trying to brush him off, but he follows me all the way to my room, pestering me and being Gunther, all right up until I shut the door in his face. Then I proceed to collapse onto my bed and scream into my pillow. 

What does my father expect me to do? I really have ruined things with Henry. He was my very best friend, and I went and messed up everything by kissing him. Why did I kiss him? God, why? What is wrong with me? 

I had been friends with Henry O’Brien ever since the first grade when I called him a giant because he was so freakishly tall. To be fair, no one should be 5’1” in first grade, but he always has been above average height-wise. He got it from his father too. Connor O’Brien is a real-life Paul Bunyan, so it’s only reasonable that Henry is turning out to be the same way. It’s amazing really. Everything about him is amazing. From his stunning red hair to his ungodly height to his unbelievably kind heart, he’s amazing. 

But I had to go and throw that friendship down the drain. Years of playing tag and running down in Mississippi creeks wasted because I had to make a stupid irreversible mistake. I’m not going to be able to fix this, and nothing is going to work out like Pa expects. I mean, today at school, he wouldn’t even talk to me. He avoided my gaze and refused to stand near me. It was quite insulting and proves exactly what I’m talking about. I’m not going to be able to fix it, especially since there’s no friendship—or relationship—left to salvage.  

Shouldn’t my father of all people have known that? I mean, looking at his relationship with my mother, unsalvageable messes are what he specializes in. And now knowing what he told me earlier, it’s clear to me that tonight just pulled together the disaster that had been brewing since long before I was born. Gunther has always been completely oblivious to their struggles though. He sees their romance as the epitome of love, and I can guarantee that he still does even after tonight. He doesn’t have anything to compare Ma and Pa to, but I do. I have heard the way Connor talks about his wife. He worships the very ground she once walked on. One might argue that he only talks her up because she’s dead, but my greatest skill is reading people, and I can tell that Connor really does love her, more than my father has ever loved my mother.  

I’m never going to be able to have that, am I? No, instead, I’m hopelessly in love with my Celtic Orthodox, crucifix-wearing, lumberjack best friend who can’t help but take my breath away with each glance.  

I don’t exactly remember when I started having feelings for him. Just at some point, I found myself staring at him, and I realized that I wanted to kiss him. Then a couple of days ago, I actually did. And that was the worst mistake of my life.  

I don’t think he knows exactly what a relationship between two boys means, but I also don’t think he doesn’t know. Whatever the case, I’m sure he doesn't want to be my friend anymore. 

But Pa was right about something. I couldn’t possibly make the situation worse, so, despite everything in my head telling me not to, I’m going to go for it. Either I make his distaste for me certain or I bring us together, and I’m apparently willing to take those odds.  

So, it’s official. Tomorrow, I will talk to him. I will invite him over and tell him how I feel. And if he decides that he likes me too, I’ll have my very own Thomas Fery, but if he doesn’t...  

Let’s forget about the negative. It’ll only weigh me down. 

And it can’t possibly be that hard, right? He’s my best friend. There's no way I could be uncomfortable with him. Right?