This story is a work of FICTION. The events described are my own invention. Any similarities to actual events or persons are strictly coincidental. The author retains the copyright, and any other rights, to this original story. You may not publish it or any part of it without my explicit authorization.
This story contains depictions of consensual sexual acts between teenage males. It is intended for mature audiences only. If you find this type of material offensive or if you are under the legal age to read said material; please proceed no further.
Comments are always welcome at: hailcaesar2011@hotmail.com
The Peace Within
Chapter 5
The morning of Patton's funeral, I got up early and polished my black dress shoes. I didn't wear them much and it seemed important to dress the part today, I didn't want to look like a bum for my brother's final send off. I actually worked up a sweat polishing those shoes and when I was done, the finish was like a mirror, they would have made a drill sergeant. With that finished, I stripped naked and put on my bathrobe, then walked down the hall for a shower. I took a long hot shower, letting the water work the kinks out of my body, then I combed my hair perfectly into place. Back in my room, I put on a white dress shirt with a black tie that had a pattern made of tiny white polka dots. I put on my black three button suit, gave myself a cursory inspection in the mirror, then went down to the kitchen and sat at the breakfast table to wait for everyone else.
I've barely spoken sense the night of the grief counseling session, in fact, I've been shutting myself off, one little piece at a time. I eat but only enough to sustain the barest of functions, I sleep when I can but I've grown restless and spend a lot of my time sitting against my headboard, clutching Patton's jacket. We've had visitors, the McCarthy's came by so did Patton's girlfriend, Kelsey, and a bunch of other random people. My brother in-law Jeff is here, he brought my nephew Aiden with him. Aiden doesn't really understand what's going on, he's too young and he keeps asking why everyone is crying and when Uncle Patton is coming home. I haven't spent much time around my nephew, his innocent questions hurt too much.
Mom was the first one down to the kitchen, like me, she was already dressed to face the day. She asked if I was hungry but I just shook my head, no. I couldn't eat today, my stomach was already in knots, I didn't want to make it worse. I sat at the breakfast table and stared out at the backyard, Patton may have been the one that died, but I was the one acting like a zombie. Aside from Aiden, the rest of the family was quiet while they pushed their breakfast around their plates and drank their coffee. At 9:00am, it was time to go.
Patrick and I, rode with mom and dad, Whitney, Jeff and Aiden drove across town to pick up grandpa at the rest home. Patton's service was being held at our church, St. James Episcopal, when we got there, the parking lot was already filling up, but dad found a spot right in front. We sat there in silence for a few minutes, after he shut off the engine, then, he took moms hand in his, gave it a squeeze and it was time to go. I don't remember walking from the car to the church, I just remember opening the door to the Range Rover and suddenly being in the church vestibule.
Jeff and Whitney arrived with grandpa a few minutes after we did, I saw them pull up but they must have taken him in through the side entrance because they didn't walk past us. There was a line in front of us, friends and family from all over New England had come to pay their respects, mom, dad, Patrick and I stood there and accepted their condolences. I was glad to see Lee and Henry McCarthy in the receiving line, I'd never liked them much before but now they were a comfort. Lee and Henry were Patton's best friends, they were going to serve as pall bearers and I knew Patton would be happy that they were a part of his send off.
Everything was going fine until Patton's girlfriend, Kelsey Miller, arrived with her parents. Kelsey wore a simple black dress with a gold cross around her neck. She hugged my parents, she and mom sniffled a little, and then mom and dad started talking to her parents. The Millers were about as upset as you could be, they loved Patton, thought he was just the kind of boy their daughter should be dating, if you could have seen them, you'd have thought they'd lost a son of their own. For a moment I felt a twinge of happiness, at least my brother had known love in his life.
Things started to unravel when Kelsey got to me. She'd hugged mom and dad, moved on to Patrick, hugged him and wiped a tear from his cheek, then she hugged me. The hug lingered long past the point of being comfortable and when she did pull back, she held onto my shoulders and looked at my face as if she were committing every square inch of it to memory.
"Patton, Patton?" said Kelsey, while she caressed my face with the tips of her fingers, "Patton?"
She was losing it, the sight of me was too much for her. Kelsey's heart was broken, she'd truly loved my brother, she must have felt like I did, like her heart had been ripped out. Patton's death had hit her to hard, seeing me just confused her and made things worse.
"Patton, is that you?" said Kelsey.
I started to freak out, I wasn't Patton but I would have given anything to trade places with him. He's the one who should be standing here, I should be the one in the box, it would be so much simpler that way. I didn't have anyone, if our places were switched, there wouldn't be some deranged girl clutching at his lapels calling out my name.
"Oh Patton," Kelsey moaned, then she hugged me again and wouldn't let go.
"Dad, dad," I whined, I was on the verge of losing it and I didn't know what to do, I just wanted my dad to make her go away.
Kelsey's parents grabbed her and it took considerable effort to pull us apart.
"Patton!" Kelsey shouted.
"It's not him honey, it's Parker, it's not him," said Mrs. Miller.
Kelsey reached for me again but her dad stepped between us, while my dad pulled me into his arms.
"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" shouted Kelsey, then she broke into uncontrollable sobs.
"I wanna go home, dad, I wanna go home," I whined into my father's chest.
"Easy Parker, easy," dad soothed.
Mr. Miller got control of Kelsey and led her away, her mom stayed behind and made their apologies.
"I'm so sorry," sniffled Mrs. Miller, "She just can't handle this, she loved Patton so much, we all did."
"It's ok," said dad, still rubbing my back, "take her home and give her something to help her sleep."
"I'm so sorry," said Mrs. Miller, she pated me on the back, I flinched, thinking it might be Kelsey again, then she was gone.
I stood there, shaking in my dad's arms. My mom took Patrick inside and dad took me out to the parking lot to get some air. He didn't' talk, didn't say anything, he gave me the time I needed to compose myself.
"Ok, I'm ready now," I sighed, after a few minutes.
"Are you sure, we can take as long as you need," said dad.
"I wasn't prepared for that," I admitted. I knew a lot of people were having a hard time looking at me because of my resemblance to Patton, I understood that, but I hadn't been prepared for anything like what happened with Kelsey.
"She's just upset son, she didn't mean to scare you," said dad.
"Yeah, I know," I nodded, "I'm ready now."
Dad stayed right by my side, we walked down the center aisle and more than a few conversations stopped so that people could look at me. I was growing tired of seeing the stricken look on their faces, whether I understood their feelings or not, it was getting hard to take. When we reached the front pew, grandpa, my mom's dad, greeted me with his typical flair.
"Well hello there Sunny Jim," said grandpa, in his boisterous Scottish brogue, "where's my Pally Boy?"
Grandpa was diagnosed with Alzheimer's Disease a couple of years ago. He didn't realize he was at a funeral, but at least he still recognized me. He'd always called me Sunny Jim and Patton, Pally Boy. It was just one of his quirks.
"He's not coming," I croaked.
"Not coming, but he'll miss the wedding," said grandpa.
"Dad, we're not at a wedding, remember, Patton died, I told you about it," said mom, she was patient but you could tell she was about to crack.
"Oh, yes, yes I remember now," said grandpa, his happy smile quickly turning to a look of anguish.
I sat next to my mom and dad, Patrick was on my left. The ceremony started with a bag piper playing Amazing Grace, in honor of the Scottish half of our heritage. The casket was brought in by three members of the football team and three members of the baseball team, Lee and Henry were in front, all of them wearing their varsity jackets instead of their suit coats. We stood as the casket went by and I felt my heart skip a beat. When the casket was in place, the pall bearers withdrew. Henry took a little longer as he stopped and put his hand on the lid, sniffled back some tears, and then was led away by Lee.
Reverend Michaels, the man who baptized us, officiated over the ceremony. I wanted to listen to him but I couldn't hear any more about God's plan and how he works in mysterious ways. I didn't care anymore, whatever God's reasons for taking Patton might be, I couldn't reconcile the fact that I had the power to make things different. I started thinking about Patton and how much he meant to me. I looked back over my life and all the best and worst moments had been shared with him.
I closed my eyes and when I opened them, it was like I was in a dream. Patton was there, so was I, only we were 5 years old again. I recognized the setting, we were at grandma and grandpa's house and it was Christmas, our parents were still in the "dress the twins alike," stage and we wore matching green sweaters. I wasn't even sure which one was me until grandma opened her front door.
"Merry Christmas my little cutie pies," grandma smiled, "let's get you in out of that snow!"
Grandma hugged us tight and then she took the coats and my parents followed her into the living room, where we heard grandpa welcoming them.
"I'm the cute one," said Patton, while he knelt down to pet Sasha, grandma's dachshund.
"What do you mean you're the cute one, we look the same," I argued, reasonably.
"But I'm the cute one," said Patton.
"Na uh, I'm the cute," I fought back.
"No me," said Patton.
"I'm just as cute as you!" I replied.
"Oh yeah?" said Patton, then he picked his nose and wiped it on my cheek, "I'm the cute one now cause you got a boogey on your face."
"MOMMMMMMMMMMMM!" I shouted.
I remember when that happened, the memory was clear as day, and I remember being so furious with him, that was so gross. I was so upset, I ran screaming to my mom, she took me to the bathroom and cleaned my face, I cried and cried.
"Why did he do that, it was so mean," I whined.
"He wasn't trying to be mean honey, he's your brother and he loves you," mom smiled.
"Yeah but..." I started to complain.
"You're brother just likes to be silly sometimes, I'm sure he didn't mean to hurt your feelings, ok?" said mom.
"Yeah, ok," I whined.
When we walked back into the living room, Patton was standing in the corner, having a time out.
"Patton, do you have something you want to say to your brother?" asked dad.
"I'm sorry Parker, I won't put boogies on you anymore," said Patton, then he hugged me.
My parents loved that story, they delighted in telling it to people, especially Patton's various girlfriends, when they came over. I'd always hated that story, I mean, he put a booger on me! So you can imagine my surprise when I burst out laughing, right in the middle of Reverend Michaels' sermon. The minister stopped talking and when I finally stopped laughing, I opened my eyes to find a room full of mortified mourners gawking at me.
"Parker!" mom exclaimed.
"I-I'm sorry," I stuttered, "I don't know what came over me."
The minister saved me any further embarrassment by resuming his sermon. Sitting there, remembering that Christmas from so many years ago, it took away my pain, even if it was just for a moment. I closed my eyes again and let my mind wander. This time I pictured a baseball game from seventh grade.
I was sitting in the bleachers next to grandpa, before his diagnoses, he came to all our games. I'd never been a baseball fan, I thought the game was boring and I was only there because grandpa had picked me up after school and hadn't taken me home yet. I was reading a book, I think it was "Where the Red Fern Grows," and I was really into it, when grandpa smacked me on the back of the head.
"Pay attention Sunny Jim, it's the bottom of the ninth, games tied and Pally Boy's at the plate," said Grandpa.
I rolled my eyes, dog eared my page and looked up. Patton was standing there in his grey uniform and blue socks. He turned to look into the bleachers and smiled when he saw me and grandpa. Patton swung at the first two pitches and missed, by the third, grandpa was leaning forward in his seat.
"Settle down now Pally Boy, you can do it!" grandpa shouted.
Patton looked back again and nodded at grandpa, then I gave him a thumbs up. He shot me one of his mischievous winks and I just knew he'd missed the first two pitches on purpose, the little shit was setting the crowd up for something special. Sure enough, Patton turned back to the pitcher and when the third pitch got to the sweet spot, Patton knocked it deep into left field. The crowd went wild, Patton scored the last run and won the game for his team, even I was excited.
"That's my brother, that's my brother!" I shouted.
When we got down to the field, Patton snuck up behind us and hugged me.
"I'm glad you made it kid, you're my good luck charm," said Patton.
"You knew you were going to hit that ball, you let the first two pitches go on purpose," I exclaimed.
"I don't know what you're talking about," Patton grinned, then took off his cap and put it on my head.
Reverend Michaels was finished and now Henry McCarthy stepped up to the pulpit. He'd spoken to my mom, the morning after the disaster at First Methodist, and asked if he could offer a eulogy. Mom was happy to let Henry say a few words, she'd wanted me to do it but accepted that I just couldn't. Henry was very close to Patton and I thought it was fitting that his best friend should speak.
"Patton was my best friend. You could always count on him to be there for you. When I heard that he was dead, it was like part of me died too. I feel bad that I never got to tell him how much I cared about him, you grow up being told that boys don't talk about their feelings, but I wish I did. Patton died standing up to the people who killed so many of our friends and classmates, he was such a brave guy, he knew he was probably going to get it but his last thought was to try and protect someone else. Patton, you're my hero," Henry sniffled.
I kind of lost track of the rest of Henry's speech, I was crying and there was this pounding in my ears, it felt like my head was going to split open. I still can't explain that feeling, I've never felt anything like that before, but it felt like my head was going to split in half. Before I knew it, Henry was stepping down from the pulpit and hugging my parents. I assumed the service was about to end but then our school choir began to fill the risers behind the casket.
Patton started singing in the choir when we were freshmen and I always assumed that it was because he was after some girl. We'd both had music lessons when we were kids, I loved the piano but Patton hated it. I remembered being five years old again, I was sitting at the piano, my feet couldn't reach the floor and I was swinging my legs back and forth.
"Patton, it's time for your lesson," said old Mrs. Harper.
"I'm not playing anymore," said Patton.
"And why not?" asked Mrs. Harper.
"Because, piano is stupid, it's for girls!" Patton exclaimed.
"Is not," I shouted back.
"It's not stupid or for girls, Parker likes it," Mrs. Harper reasoned.
"Parker likes it because he's a girl, I bet he's even got little boobies," said Patton.
"I don't have boobies!" I shouted.
"Do to!" Patton retorted.
"Do not!" I fired back.
"Boys, that is enough of that talk," said Mrs. Harper.
Patton stuck his tongue out at me and I stuck mine out at him.
"Alright, that's enough, Patton, come sit next to your brother," said Mrs. Harper.
"No!" said Patton, stubbornly, then he crossed his arms over his chest.
"Patton Westergaard, do you want me to call your mother?" asked Mrs. Harper.
"Ok, ok, geez," Patton sighed.
That was the last time he ever had a piano lesson and he didn't express an interest in music again until he joined the choir. I shouldn't have been surprised, he had a great voice. When the choir was assembled, one of the baritone's stepped forward and started to sing a song I knew well, grandpa sang it to us when we were little and it was one of Patton's favorites.
By yon bonnie banks and by yon bonnie braes, Where the sun shines bright on Loch Lomon', where me and my true love were ever wont to gae, On the bonnie, bonnie banks o' Loch Lomon'.
O ye'll tak' the high road and I'll tak the low road, An' I'll be in Scotland afore ye; But me and my true love will never meet again, On the bonnie, bonnie banks o' Loch Lomon'.
'Twas there that we parted in yon shady glen, On the steep, steep side o' Ben Lomon', Where in deep purple hue the Hieland hills we view, An' the moon shine'en out in the gloamin'.
O ye'll tak' the high road and I'll tak the low road, An' I'll be in Scotland afore ye; But me and my true love will never meet again, On the bonnie, bonnie banks o' Loch Lomon'.
The wee birdies sing and the wild flow'rs spring, And in sunshine the waters are gleamin'; But the broken heart it kens nae second spring, Tho' the waefu' may cease frae their greetin'
Patton loved that song, he'd picked it up from grandpa and I remember him singing it to me when we were kids, he always sang it with such great joy. I was always scared of thunder storms and when they struck, Patton would climb into bed with me and sing me to sleep. I couldn't believe what I was hearing, I'd never read anything into those lyrics before but sitting there, in the church, at his funeral, it was clear as day, the song was about death! Someone's sweetheart wasn't coming home, just like Patton wasn't coming home to me.
Grandpa knew it too, he saw through the fog of his Alzheimer's and wept quietly between Patrick and Whitney. When the song ended, the service came to a close, there would be a brief graveside ceremony and that would be that. Before we left, everyone was supposed to file past the casket so they could say their final goodbye. Naturally the family went first, I lingered behind mom, dad and Patrick, and when it was my turn, I stopped and looked down at the casket. This was the last time I would ever be in the earthly presence of my twin and I couldn't face that, I missed him so much. I put my hand on the casket but that wasn't enough, I rested my cheek against the cold, polished wood and started to cry. It started deep inside me, building in intensity until it came to the surface, I tried to suppress it but I couldn't choke it back. I felt dad put his hand on my shoulder.
"Parker, he's gone son, it's time to let him go," said dad, then he tried to pull me away, that's when it happened.
"AAAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" I wailed, it was a deep, anguished yawp, a prime-evil expression of pain and suffering.
It was as if my heart split open and every hurt I'd ever experienced came out at once. I couldn't breathe, all I could do was make that God awful sound, that pitiful cry. In the end, I passed out in my father's arms, I never made it to the graveside service, I didn't wake up until the next day.