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GRAVEDIGGERS - EQUALITY
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Modernly, widespread efforts have arisen to combat the injustices against Gravediggers. They are concentrated in metropolitan areas, where early on it became increasingly difficult to separate Gravediggers’ Graves from Society’s cities. In places like these, Gravediggers and Society-citizens lived in proximity, interacting with each other and engaging in community. These efforts have not reached most rural areas, or they have been met with little success. Separation is more easily maintained in these areas, leaving superstitions and old prejudices to run rampant, with nothing and no-one to refute them.

There are pockets of the country in which Gravediggers are fully integrated, living and sharing their lives and culture with their Society neighbors, and programs open to all are even being initiated which teach funerary trades. Unfortunately, federal legislation and deep-rooted customs have not caught up, and even in these regions Gravediggers are designated as separate and lesser citizens. Fortunately, however, Gravediggers who live in these areas are far less obligated to relinquish their children, though they are still required to keep detailed records of lineage.

Human rights and interest groups have formed to lobby for the rights of Gravediggers. They are becoming more and more successful as the years pass.

—

***
FOUR YEARS AGO
***

This is the twelfth time Graham has led me by the hand through God’s Blind, dragged me to the door, and made me let us in the back door. The twelfth time we have snuck into his house in the dead of night, while his grandfather sleeps soundly (and loudly!) in the bedroom at the back of the house. It is an uncountable number of times I have wondered if it would really be so terrible to throw myself into the void, let it swallow me whole. I love Raildusk Grave, I love Uncle and the Gravedigger clan. But still I wonder, would it be so bad for me to love more than this small Gravedigger world?

There is a covered bowl of cut fruit and a plate of cheese crackers and peanut butter sandwiches waiting on the kitchen table. I have seen food laid out on the table before, because it seems the old man knows what Graham gets up to when the moon is out. I know he supports Graham’s dreams of becoming a powerlifter. This time, however, there are two sandwiches, and double the amount of crackers and fruit.

Graham doesn’t think twice of it, simply handing me a sandwich, and digging into the rest. I decide to follow suit and not think too hard. Old Man Torres must just want to ensure his grandson is eating well after working out and sleeping too little.

“Y’know, Inchworm,” Graham says through a sticky mouthful of peanut butter, “you and I are a right pair of weights and measures, metric and imperial.” Thankfully, he swallows his bite before laughing. Graham is always laughing, and I am coming to realize how deeply I look forward to hearing it.

“Grams and miles, pounds and feet. Centimeters and ounces. You and me, Inchworm and Graham.”

I take a bite of my sandwich as Graham shovels the rest of his into his mouth in one bite. “I wish I had something stupid I could call you, Graham. You call me Inchworm, but I haven’t thought of anything for you.”

He laughs again through his closed mouth, fighting the peanut butter before speaking. “You think your nickname is stupid?”

I feel a blush creep up my neck and I am suddenly very thankful for my deep brown skin and the dim light of witching hour. Stupidly, I answer, “No. Yes. No. It’s stupid, but I still like it. I can like stupid things.” Like Graham, I think. Hopefully he likes stupid things, too. (I know he does.)

“Like me!” he says, and brazenly laughs again. It is amazing how deeply his grandfather sleeps.

“Well, I still don’t have a nickname for you,” I say.

***
PRESENT DAY
***

Day breaks and the birds are singing when a knock sounds at the door. I don’t know how or when we fell asleep, Graham’s arms clutching me to his chest and his tears rolling into my hair.

Slowly, shakily, he lets go of me and rises to answer the door. I know who will stand on the other side, and my heart pounds in my chest. I do not know if it is from trepidation, excitement, pride, or sorrow. Perhaps all of it. I do know that I will not avoid the conversation that is to come, despite the pain it brings me, knowing I will lash yet another burden onto Uncle’s already heavy yoke.

I can hear the door open from Graham’s bedroom.

“Uncle,” Graham says, and Uncle rakes in a sharp breath.

“What did you call me, boy?” Uncle’s sharp tone worries me. He’s upset, for a multitude of reasons, and he’s always been gruff, but I don’t like that he’s targeted Graham because of it.

“Mr. Daniel Torres Gravedigger-Buono. How would you have me refer to you, Sir?”

“Don’t call me anything. I’m here on business.”

I pad out of Graham’s bedroom, smoothing myself over as best I can. My hair must be a mess from sleep and worry, and my tunic is wrinkled and prying loose from my trousers.

“Uncle,” I say. “Hello.”

Uncle’s head whips toward me, and his eyes widen. They’re red-rimmed, and I wonder for whom he has been crying. It could be anyone - Marina, Maricella, Father, Mother, me. But of everyone, I fear that he has not cried for himself yet.

“Miles, why are you here? How long have you been here?” He frowns at me.

“Uncle, I…” All of the resolve I had disperses in an instant. I do not fear Uncle, but I fear disappointing him. He hates Gravediggers, but toils devoutly to serve the clan. He cannot forgive Armando, but has come to personally arrange his funeral, when he can easily slough the responsibility off on Graham with a single signature. He loves me, but he resents me.

I bow my head and take a deep breath. I cannot look Uncle in the eyes right now.

“Uncle, I do not wish to add to your burdens, and I hope to take over as planned. But I… I came here because I cannot leave a friend alone. We have the clan to fall back on, but Graham… Old Torres was his last family. I won’t skip out on my duties, I promise. But he needs me more now than the Gravediggers do.

“I’m sorry I left God’s Blind without permission, and I’m sorry I disobeyed the Grave, but I will not lie and say I regret it. I will stay with Graham until everything is settled and he returns to the city.”

I sneak a glance upward. Graham looks at me, shocked. Uncle has folded his arms across his chest and bears a stern, unreadable expression. One man with eyes wide, the other eyes narrowed. I don’t know who to look at, or if I should at all.

Uncle clears his throat. “Very well, Miles. You will bear my father’s casket alongside myself and Graham. I will take care of the rest. We’ve already set the young ones to digging. Unless,” he says, and turns pointedly to Graham, “you would like for Armando to be cremated and returned to you in the form of ash.”

Graham vehemently shakes his head. “No way, Sir. Grandpa always said that Grandmother was a Gravedigger, and we are her family, so we are Gravediggers, too. I will honor him like one.”

“Hmmph,” says Uncle Daniel, and I know that while no one can erase the complicated feelings Uncle has toward Society-citizens and Gravediggers, Graham has won him over, just like that. He nods once and turns toward the door to relay the information back to the clan.

“Sir,” says Graham, and Uncle pauses. “I have only been involved in one traditional funeral. Miles told me it’s supposed to be your job to arrange all the funerary rites. If it’s all the same to you, I would like for you to remain in charge. All I ask is that you still let me be a pallbearer.”

“Hmmph,” says Uncle. “Very well.”

“And… and that it’s just us. I want for it to be just us to carry him to the grave.”

At this, Uncle cocks an eyebrow. “That’s a lot of things to ask for ‘all I ask,’ young man. Do you really think three men -” Uncle glances at me “- or the better part of three men, is enough to transport a loaded casket?”

I know Uncle does not mean it like that, but his words still strike a dagger of terror through my heart. He means only that I am so small, my ropy muscles scarcely enough to make up for my short stature. Certainly he means it in a playful way - I have borne more than one coffin in my life with the aid of a shoulder scaffold.

But Graham doesn’t know. He doesn’t know that before I was the only son of the Gravedigger-Ways, I was their eldest daughter. I’ve put my body through the medical treatments, I’ve grown and lived as the sole son and eldest cousin. I am a recognized Gravedigger apprentice and soon-to-be master. But I don’t know if this history of mine will disgust him, or if he might feel like he’s found a loophole through which to tell his friends about me. I don’t know if he’ll see me the same after knowing. This is the first and only time I have ever had doubt in my friend, but despite my unwavering trust in Graham, I am scared.

“With all due respect, Sir,” Graham says. “I know Miles’s a little bit on the small side, but he’s strong. So am I. And Grandpa probably weighs ninety-eight pounds, tops.

“My mom was weak, and she died during childbirth. My Grandpa’s family estranged him, but he still insisted on being Grandmother’s pallbearer, and carried her coffin alone with strangers to her grave. But I’m strong. I’m strong enough to make up for three men on my own. To be honest, this is why I became a powerlifter. I’ve been training my whole life for this.”

Graham moves to my side and slings a huge arm over my shoulder, squeezing tightly. It both comforts and terrifies me.

“I see, son,” says Uncle, looking directly at Graham’s arm over me. And I know, at least on that front, I have one fear that’s assuaged. Uncle will not interfere with me and Graham. “I’ll take my leave now. Please arrive at the funeral home with your grandfather’s paperwork with haste. We will begin services at midday, so leave immediately once you find them. Miles will walk you through everything.”

With that, Uncle Daniel leaves, walking purposefully through the garden and disappearing into God’s Blind.

***

They’re almost ready to leave, paperwork clutched in hand, when Graham finally takes a good look at Miles, who’s clasping his cloak with trembling fingers.

“Inchworm, you’re shaking,” Graham says, turning Miles by his shoulders to face him.

“Am I?” says Miles, eyes distant. The cloak falls crookedly over his shoulders.

Graham straightens the cloak out and says, “Yes, you are. Is it because of me? Did I say something to upset you? Your unc - my - uncle - uh. Uncle Daniel isn’t angry, right?”

Miles shakes his head. “No, it’s not that.” He sinks into a kitchen chair, head in hands.

Graham looks worriedly at him, lowering himself to his knees in front of Miles. He looks up at him from the kitchen floor and places a hand on Miles’s knee. “Talk to me, Inch. What’s wrong?”

Miles peeks out through shaky fingers. “Graham, would it be a problem if… If I really was only the better part of a man?”

“What’s this about? I didn’t mean it. It’s no problem that you’re so short. It’s cute.” Graham looks shocked and blushes at himself when he says this.

A shy smile escapes, but Miles isn’t placated. “No, no. What if I wasn’t a man?”

Graham looks confused. “But of course you are. You’re just small. And that’s fine, I like you like that.”

Miles is hesitant, and his words come out slowly. “Or… What if I didn’t start out a man?” Graham’s eyes widen, but he nods and squeezes Miles’s knee reassuringly. And with that, it all tumbles out at once. “What if I was the Gravedigger-Way’s eldest daughter, and I was supposed to be relinquished? What if it’s my fault that Tasha was sent away instead of me, because I wasn’t a daughter? What if it’s my fault my parents couldn’t survive the grief, and Uncle’s all alone? That’s why he was cross with you, and that’s why he hates the Gravediggers and he hates the Society-citizens and -”

Miles hiccups, anxious ramblings breaking into terrified sobs. Graham’s hands gently cover Miles’s, where they have unconsciously come to be locked in an iron grip on the front of Graham’s hoodie.

“You’ve always been you, Miles. You’ll always be you. Whether you picked your name yourself, or they called you a daughter but you were a son, you’re just Miles.” Graham releases one of Miles’s hands to tug him into another crushing bear hug. His free arm wraps neatly all the way around Miles.

He whispers, “I have loved this Little Inchworm for years. I have been afraid of this love for years. I never knew you were so terrified of this love, too. For completely different reasons, but… You know…” Graham pulls Miles back, and squishes his face between his large, warm hands. “Someone once told me, long ago, ‘Love is always a good thing.’ We’ll make it work, Inch, and it’ll be okay.”

Miles nods, as well as he can with his cheeks smushed between Graham’s bear paws, anyway. He sniffles one more time before gingerly pulling Graham’s hands from his face, though he doesn’t let go.

“We have to go, Graham. The sun’s risen already. I’ll tell you what we’ll need to do along the way. There isn’t much.”

They are about to latch the door behind them, but not before Graham remembers something urgent. He rushes back inside to grab Marina’s urn off the mantle, and sprints back to Miles. With Marina tucked safely under one arm, and Miles’s hand in the other, they shut the garden gate and walk hand in gloveless hand into God’s Blind.