Date: Wed, 26 Jul 2000 19:14:53 EDT
From: Gabriella Morrison <sweetheart_stories@hotmail.com>
Subject: My Surprise Romance 36

Hi y'all :)

Well, let me just say that I have never received so much mail on one
chapter. Never. And thank you to everyone who sent me mail (e-mail is
sweetheart_stories@hotmail.com) Thank you, thank you , thank you. I've
received some of the nicest e-mails ever from some of you who really love
this story. It's really encouraging to know that y'all care about it so
much. I really, really appreciate it. :) Really. But to reassure some of
you out there, MSR is definitely not over (eventually it will be, but for
now? Nope.)...

I wasn't planning to put this out today. I was planning to put it out on
Friday--but due to the overwhelming amount of mail that I have received,
I'm putting it out because a.)People are asking me to put out this chapter
asap and b.) I've stuck an advanced copy of this chapter on my website
(which I usually do) and I've received a huge amount of positive e-mails
from that. BTW, here's the addy for my site(being a hussy again, I know
=)):

http://sweetheart.homepage.com

Okay, I'll shut up now--more notes are on the bottom. I'll just let you get
to the story :)

DISCLAIMER: m/m relationship, 18 or 21 to read it, don't like it?
Leave. Not implying Lance's sexuality. Plus, a good amount of death is in
this chapter...

*brief note: I am not an unsympathetic person, I want you to know this. My
description of the wake is not to disrespect the dead or anything. My
cynical opinion on wakes is due to the ones I've experienced. And now...


My Surprise Romance

The Better to Dream of You-- "Sweetness Follows"

Chapter 36--


          "I'm going crazy/A little at a time/And everything I wanted/Is
now driving me away/
             I woke this morning/To the sound of beating hearts/Mine is
full of questions/And it's
             tearing yours apart..."

					- "Home"- Sheryl Crow



The plane had touched down in New York a couple of hours after I had left
Lance, and I let out a sigh of relief when I heard the wheels hit the
runway. I hated flying..I hated it. And automatically my mind thought of
the first plane trip I had taken with Lance...where Cynthia had nearly
overdosed me with those stupid airsickness pills of hers and Lance had
wanted to hold on to my hand so badly...

Those were better times, I thought as I looked out the window. Who would
have thought things would have gone into such a downward spiral ...

I had somehow managed to control my frazzled nerves with two vodka tonics
during the trip, but as everyone got up from their seats and began to
unboard the plane, I felt my stomach start to jump. Everyone seemed to be
moving in slow motion, when all I wanted to do was get off the plane and go
home.

Home. Did I really want to go home to the place where my mother had ended
her own life? The place where Lance and I started our relationship? It
seemed like only yesterday that Lance and I were sitting in my kitchen,
drinking coffee and my mother..rushing into it, fawning over Lance like a
giddy teenager. Now that I thought of it, what she had done that night had
been pretty funny. I stifled a laugh, drawing strange looks from the other
passengers as I thought of my mother's odd behavior. Where had it come
from? Why had she done that? Well, I thought grimly as I exited the plane,
I would never know, would I?

Once I was off the plane and back in the airport, I searched the crowd of
welcoming people and my eyes immediately landed on Cynthia. She was sitting
in a chair, her chin rested in the palm of her hand, her eyes lifeless as
she stared ahead into nothingness. She must have sensed that I had come off
the plane though, because she looked up just then and saw me.

Wordlessly, my cousin walked over to me and for a few seconds, we just
stood there, staring at each other until I couldn't take it anymore. I
reached out for Cynthia and hugged her, relieved to feel the embrace of
someone who cared about me. Her touch was warm...loving...real. She was
there for me.

"Oh Stephen," she sighed when we parted. "You don't know how glad I am to
see you." She looked at me and gave me a melancholy smile. "Come on, let's
get your luggage and we'll go to your house. I drove your car here." It was
odd..the last time Cynthia and I had been at this airport, she had greeted
me by jumping on top of me. We had laughed and had a good time. Now, I
could barely open my mouth to say a word. Everything was different.

Thankfully, Cynthia realized that I didn't want to talk. We just redeemed
my luggage and made the trip to the parking lot, silently lost in our own
thoughts. Finally I spoke. The silence was getting on my nerves.

"How is Natalie?" I asked softly, as Cynthia opened the door to the car. I
got into the passenger side and I realized that the last person to sit in
this seat was Lance. The thought creeped me out a little bit, as Cynthia
started up the car and pulled the car into drive.

"She's sleeping..at least she was when I left her," Cynthia said quietly,
as she began to maneuver her way out of the busy parking lot. "She's gonna
be so happy to see you Stephen. She can't understand why her mother would
kill herself..." Cynthia trailed off, as she came to a red light. My cousin
turned to me, looking at me solemnly when she noticed the tears slipping
down my cheeks.

"Was your flight okay?" She asked gently, taking my hand in hers and giving
it a squeeze. I nodded wordlessly, unsure what to say. What *could* I say?
Instead, I flicked on the radio, needing to hear something besides the
monotony of my mind and the silence of the road. I nearly let out a groan
as I realized the last person to play around with the radio was Lance. He
had left it on the country station...

"Well I'm good-one of a kind...But I would rather be two...And I still
speak my mind...But I miss talking with you.." came the voice from the
radio. I closed my eyes at hearing the lyrics. Jesus, maybe I should have
just driven a nail through my chest.

"How are your mom and dad?" I asked Cynthia, trying to ignore the song on
the radio. I know I could have turned it off, but I needed the background
noise.

"Dad is a wreck...it was his sister for God's sake...he's been acting
weird. I don't think it's set into his mind yet..." Cynthia continued to
talk, but my ears were magnetically drawn the the radio once more.

"Weren't we something back then...Thick as thieves...Who would have ever
thought that...You and me...Would let forever come to...Used to be..." When
I heard that, my mind had drifted back to my ex-boyfriend. Lance and I had
been so close; he had become my confidant, my partner-in-crime, I thought
with a sad smile as I recalled how deeply we had fallen in love with each
other.  Lance had become an extension of me, my soul...`why hadn't I told
him about my mother,' I silently browbeated myself. With that, I leaned
forward and snapped off the radio, creeped out at why that song had come on
just then. What was God trying to tell me? Was he mocking me? Or was he
just trying to tell me that I wasn't alone, even though at that moment, I
felt pretty lonely. Even though Cynthia was right there with me, I still
felt lonely...empty...

Cynthia noticed that I was staring off into space and promptly shut up
then. The remainder of the ride was spent silently, except for when some
car cut her off.

"Asshole!" she screamed at the driver, even though he couldn't hear
her. She popped him the finger as he passed her by. And then she shut up.



A few minutes later, Cynthia pulled into the driveway and for the first
time in weeks, I saw my house. It looked the same from the outside. Beige
siding, crimson shutters. You would have never guessed that there was so
much sadness coming from inside that house. I certainly wouldn't have.

As I got out of the car, I walked up the sidewalk and up the stairs. My
Aunt opened the door and stared at me for the first time in a couple of
months. She hadn't changed much from when I last saw her. Dyed blonde hair
(like mother like daughter), a bit on the stocky side. Her blue-violet eyes
were red with tears that had been shed over the last few hours. We stared
at each other for a few seconds before Aunt Florence finally opened up the
screen door and let me into the house. Once I was inside, my aunt wrapped
me in a hug.

"Stephen..so good to see you again," she choked out, and I felt her tears
hit my shoulder. "I don't know what to say," she said as we parted. "I just
can't believe your mother would do something like this...I always knew
Patty was a little unstable, but..." Aunt Florence stopped herself
suddenly. "Come on let me get you a cup of tea. Sit down, you had a long
flight."

"Aunt Florence, where's Natalie?" I asked, my heart racing. I had to see my
sister. I had to.

"Stephen, she's in her bedroom...she's sleeping, we finally put her down--"
Pushing past my Aunt, I climbed the stairs that led to my sister's room two
at a time, the blood racing through my veins as I realized that my sister
was only a few feet away from me. Her bedroom door was opened a crack and I
gently pushed it open.

There was my sister, sleeping in her bed. She looked the same, I thought
with a smile as I watched her sleeping form. I watched her rhythmic
breathing--up and down, up and down. She looked so innocent,
fragile...judging from her puffy eyelids I could tell that she had been
crying, but she looked okay, I thought with relief. I was about to walk out
of her room, when I suddenly heard her thin voice float through the air.

"Stephen? Is that you?" I stopped in my tracks, and turned back
around. Natalie was sitting up in bed, her blonde hair tousled around her
shoulders as she looked at me with hopeful eyes.

"Natalie," I managed to breathe out as I rushed over to the bed and sat
down on it. "Natalie, I missed you so much," I sighed as I held my sister
in my arms for the first time in ages. Once I placed my arms around her, I
felt her body suddenly start to shake with tears.

"Stephen, I missed you so much..." she cried into my chest. "I missed
you. I was hoping you could come home tonight....mom....mom is dead." She
let out a wail that broke my heart right there and then as she clamped her
hands tighter around my body.

"I know, sweetie," I whispered as I rocked my sister's small frame in my
arms. "I know. She's gone..." I closed my eyes at the harsh reality that
God had decided to placed over us. My eyes looked at the wall in front of
me and it took me a few seconds to register what I was looking at. A huge
oversized poster of `N Sync. My eyes fell on Lance, where he was posed,
smiling for the camera.  For a second, I wondered if I was in some sort of
nightmare. And then Natalie let out another wail, bringing me back to
reality once more.  I closed my eyes so that I wouldn't look at that poster
and when I did this, tears spilled down my cheeks. Natalie and I held onto
each other for dear life, not saying anything else. We only had each
other...



"Well, the funeral home said that Patricia could be laid out in two to
three days," Uncle George sighed as we sat around the kitchen table. "That
would give us enough time to make all of the other arrangements."

We were seated in a circle. Aunt Patricia. Uncle George. Cynthia. Me. I had
a cup of coffee in front of me, but I had barely touched it. Everything was
sinking into my mind. My mother was dead. She had to be buried. And I had
lost the only man that I had loved. Give us a pregnancy, I thought
cynically, and this would be a goddamn soap opera. I stared off into space,
not caring what my aunt and uncle were discussing.

An hour passed and they decided to go to bed. It was three in the morning,
and I wondered what Lance was doing. Was that selfish?, I asked
myself. Thinking of Lance and not my mother? He was only my ex-boyfriend
and not family. But, another part of me spoke up, he was like family Sure I
had only known him for a few weeks, but he had shown me more caring than I
had ever received in my entire life. And that in itself was a scary
thought. I picked up the coffee cup and downed the entire beverage in one
gulp.

Cynthia remained at the table with me, as she carefully watched my every
move like a hawk.

"More coffee, Stephen?" she asked gently, noticing my empty coffee cup. I
shook my head.

"No, God no. Anymore and I'll float away," I said, trying to make a joke. I
looked up at my cousin. She looked tired. Very tired.

"Cynthia, go to bed," I told her. "I'll be fine by myself."

"Stephen, I'm not tired. I'm just exhausted..a little jet lagged even
though it is only an hour difference. It's just strange, all the events of
today. I mean, I got up--never expected to get this frantic phone call from
the hospital saying that a Mrs. Patricia Peterson was dead...from
self-inflicted wounds." Cynthia shook her head at the surrealness of the
whole situation. "Last thing I would have expected."

"How do you think I feel?" I asked Cynthia, my voice almost choking on the
words. "My mother..Natalie's mother is dead. I'll never have a chance to
talk to her again. I'll never get to hear her voice...I regret so much
now," I leaned back in my chair as I pondered this. I wanted to tell my
mother that I loved her, even if she despised me, I still loved her. She
was my mother. And I felt guilty.

"Stephen...can I ask you something?" Cynthia spoke up quietly. I looked at
my cousin, a bit taken aback by the serious look on her face.

"Sure, shoot," I said. I was a little worried. I wasn't ready to get
involved in philosophical life and death arguments. Not now. Not
ever. Cynthia paused, running her finger around the rim of the empty glass
in front of her, before she met my eyes.

"Do you think she killed herself because she couldn't deal with you
being..." Cynthia's voice trailed off, not wanting to say the final word.

"Gay?" I asked her gently, a slight smile appearing on my face, despite the
fact that I was miserable on the inside. Cynthia's face turned red at my
on-the-target response.

"Well, yeah..I mean, you and her were okay until you told her that...and
then everything seemed to go downhill from there," Cynthia said
awkwardly. I could tell that she didn't want to offend me. And even though
she was trying not to, but in a perverse way, she had. How could she just
come out and say that? Not even twenty-four hours after my mother's
death...but she had a point. In between thoughts of Natalie and Lance, I
had been thinking that myself. I felt incredibly guilty because of it. Had
I unintentionally caused my mother's death?

"Cynthia...I'd love to give you an answer, but to tell you the truth, I
don't know..." I sighed, determined not to cry for the hundredth time that
night. "I just have this feeling that I'm eleven years old again and I'm
telling my father not to go to work. It's that strange feeling, you know?
Once again, I feel responsible for the death of one of my parents." I
buried my face in my arms and just lay there for a second.

"Well, what did Lance say?" Cynthia asked suddenly. And hearing that felt
like someone had punched me in the stomach. I looked up at my cousin and
just stared at her. Staring seemed a very de rigor thing to do today.

"Lance...Lance and I broke up...." I finally said after a few minutes of my
old friend, silence, passed between us. "I never told him about mom."
Cynthia's eyes grew as round as saucers.

"What?!" She exclaimed, slapping me in the head. I winced at her touch. It
was bad enough my head hurt from crying so much, but did she have to go and
do that too? "You broke up with Lance? Why?"

I helplessly shrugged my shoulders. "I...I don't know...it seemed like such
a good idea at the time. I just didn't want to pull him into my problems,
you know drag him down and make him unhappy." I looked back at Cynthia. "Do
you know what I mean?"

Cynthia shook her head at me. "Honey...I don't know what's going on in that
head of yours....why wouldn't you tell Lance that your mother died? It's
not like he wouldn't understand...you two were so in love." I winced at the
truth of her words. The truth hurt.

"Yeah, I know. I can't believe I did that." I gave a short, bitter
laugh. "Anyways, it's all over between us. I don't think that Lance will
ever want to see me again...he gave me back the bracelet that I gave him."
A puzzled look passed over her face, until she realized what bracelet I was
talking about.

"*You* gave him your dad's ID bracelet?" Cynthia said in shock, reaching
out for my hand. "That was like one of your prized possessions, Stephen."

I nodded. "Well, I have it back again. He told me that he never wanted to
wear it in the first place," I said, blinking back tears at remembering
Lance's harsh last words. "So maybe it was supposed to end this way." I
paused. "But you know who *does* know about mom?"

"Who?"

"Justin."

"Justin? Justin Timberlake? You told him and not Lance." Another slap in
the head.

I winced at the pain that reverbeted through my skull. "Cynthia I had
to...we ran into each other in the hallway and it just came out. I had to
tell someone." I shook my head. "I don't know what I was thinking. I just
wanted to protect Lance, I guess." I managed a small smile, despite the
sadness I felt. "My mind was all fucked up I guess."

"I'll say that," Cynthia said, shaking her head as she got up from the
table. "Look, Stephen, I have to get to bed sometime." I stood up too,
feeling myself falling under the heavy curtain of sleep as well. We walked
out of the kitchen and up the stairs together, before parting. Cynthia was
sleeping in Natalie's room.

"Good night, Stephen," Cynthia said quietly before turning into the dark
room. She stopped to give me a quick hug and a kiss on the cheek and then
she was gone. I held back a sigh as I turned to my bedroom. This was the
first time I had set foot in it, since I left. Taking a deep breath, I
pushed open the door and flipped on the light.

Everything was the same. My mother hadn't touched at thing, or at least to
my tired eyes, it seemed that she didn't. The only difference, was that
there was a layer of dust covering almost all the objects in the room. I
walked over to my bed and stared at it for a couple of seconds. This was
where everything had really changed, I thought. The sheets were
rumpled. This is where my mom caught Lance and I together after the first
time we had slept together (although I'm not sure `slept' was the right
word for it). And then I had found out about the church and the therapy and
oh, God, what a mess my life had become.

I ran a hand over the pillow that lay near the headboard and I noticed a
light blonde hair on it. It certainly wasn't mine and it was too short and
pale to be Natalie's.

It was Lance's.

I stared at it for a couple of seconds before lying myself down on the bed,
placing my cheek on the pillow. I could have sworn that I could still smell
a trace of Lance's scent on the soft cotton material. With that, I kicked
off my shoes and then closed my eyes, my heart hurting like it had never
hurt before. My mother was gone. Lance was gone. Oh well, I thought with a
forlorn sigh, the better to dream of them both.




The next few days seemed to whirl past me in a blur. When I had woke up the
next morning, voices floated from downstairs. I heard one, particularly
deep in tone and my heart leapt straight into my shoes. Oh my God, I
thought. It was Lance. I ran out of bed and downstairs, only to see one of
my other, more distant cousins standing there. He and a few other
not-so-close relatives had shown up to console me and my sister. It had
been him I heard talking.

Had I suddenly gone delusional and was hearing Lance's voice in my mind?
Jesus, I thought, as I gave everyone standing around a wave and headed back
up the stairs. I was starting to crack up. Badly.

A little while later, I had showered and dressed and joined the rest of my
extended family in the living room. They had offered me their condolences
and I took them all, with a nod and a polite `thank you', but to be honest,
I just wanted to be alone.  I didn't need to see relatives who had just
appeared of the woodwork, out of nowhere because my mother had gone and
killed herself. Where the hell had they been through the years between my
father's funeral and the present?

I stood still in place as I suddenly pondered what I had just thought of. I
had seen both of my parents pass away before I was twenty-two. That was
weird. Very weird.





The wake was stranger to me, mainly because I spent the entire day cooped
up inside the funeral home. It was also the first time in weeks that I
would lay eyes on my mother...

Cynthia and I walked into the funeral home together. It was a strange,
creepy place. A little dark, and as I sniffed the air, I noticed that it
smelled even stranger than I had imagined. I felt horribly uncomfortable as
I walked up to a man who was standing there. He had a nametag on, so I
assumed that he worked there. I was right.

"Excuse me," I said, "I was wondering where I'd go...my mother..." I
managed to say, despite the huge lump in my throat. The man looked at me
with interested eyes.

"Are you Stephen Peterson? Here for Patricia?" he asked, taking my hand in
his. I nodded wordlessly and I felt Cynthia grab my hand for support. "Come
with me," the man said, leading me towards the back of the building. "By
the way, I'm Victor. I was put in charge of your mom's wake."

"Oh. Thank you," I said, as he opened a heavy, maple door up and pulled out
a sign. It read, "Patricia Leanna Peterson 11:00 A.M-3: P.M./ 5:00
P.M.-9:00 P.M" It was cold, made with stick on letters and it was just
weird seeing that. Victor led Cynthia and I to a casket and then opened the
top up. I sucked in my breath, not expecting to see what I did.

My mother. Lifeless. Cold. Her face was expressionless and her lips were
sewn shut. My mother. I felt sick all of a sudden and without warning, I
ran out of there and, as though I knew already, I found the bathroom, went
into a stall and threw up. I couldn't handle it anymore. Everything was out
of control. Seeing my mother like that...how could I have just turned my
back on her the way I had? Love was important, but my family...how did I
manage to put that one on the back burner?

I heard the door open and then a pair of arms wrap around me. I looked up
to see Cynthia standing there, a worried look on her face, as she slowly
began to rub my back.

"Stephen, are you okay?" she asked, her voice filled with panic. "You're so
pale..." I opened my mouth to say something to her, and then without
warning, another wave of nausea overswept me. I turned my head back to the
toilet bowl and I threw up once more, not able to control my jumpy
stomach. After a round of dry heaving, I suddenly felt okay again. I stood
up, flushed the toilet and turned back to my cousin, who looked absolutely
petrified as I walked out of the cramped stall.

"Hey, you're not supposed to be in here," I said, attempting to make a lame
joke. Cynthia stared at me as I walked over to the line of sinks and turned
on the water. I washed my hands and splashed my face, trying to calm myself
down. I was shaking terribly as I did this. Cupping my hands, I filled them
with cold water and drank. After this, I turned off the water and stared at
myself in the mirror. I looked terrible. I had lost weight over the past
few days, and my cheekbones seemed to stick out prominently. Dark circles
underneath my eyes were the result of lack of sleep that I hadn't
received. Knowing that I had to go out and face the hurdle sometime, I
adjusted the tie that I was wearing and turned back towards my cousin.

"Ready?" I asked her. She gave me a nod of uncertainty as we walked out of
the men's room, hand in hand, ready for the long day ahead of us.




The wake had to be one of the most horrible experiences of my life. I don't
remember much of my father's wake mainly because I was too young at the
time, but this one? God...by the end of the night it had turned into some
kind of sick party, with my relatives grouping together to catch up on past
events. Bursts of laughter had popped up from the little groups that had
formed. I was ready for bottles of champagne to be brought out and
opened. Maybe while we were at it, we could go hire some waiters to pass
out hors d'oeuvre's too. And in the middle of it all, was my mother, lying
in her casket. It was sick, absolutely sick...thank God my aunt and uncle
(who were now laughing up a storm with some out-of town relatives of mine)
had taken Natalie home earlier in the day, during the all too brief lull in
visiting hours.  As I sat there in my uncomfortable vinyl seat, I looked
around for any shred of sadness left, but it had all seemed to disappear. I
felt helpless...I just wanted to go home, but I couldn't since I had to
stay until everyone left, just so I could thank these heartless bastards
for coming to "honor" my mother. I felt like a prisoner, wanting to
escape. I looked around for my cousin, who had disappeared. Fearing that
she had left, I got up from my seat and tapped one of my other cousins on
the shoulder.

"Hey, Maggie," I said to my tall, pretty third cousin whom I hadn't seen in
years, "Did you see where Cynthia went?"

"Cynthia...Cynthia...blonde? Kind of slutty, right?" Maggie said carelessly
off the top of her head. I felt my hands form tight fists at my side as she
said that. How dare she call Cynthia that, when she was standing there, her
huge horse-like teeth showing as she and some woman exchanged tasteless
jokes about death. Nice, huh? And she called Cynthia a slut...I couldn't
deal anymore. I went nuts.

"That is my cousin you're talking about, bitch," I managed to say through
clenched teeth. "As well as one of my best friends. So you better take that
back, or you're not the only one who'll be lying in a casket around here."
Maggie stared at me with a shocked expression.

"Um, she went outside for a smoke," Maggie said, her face turning bright
red. "Yeesh, I was just teasing you. God, you're uptight." How heartless
can you be?

"Uptight? *Uptight*! My mother just died you selfish prig!" I began
screaming this at her, despite the fact that I was in the middle of my
mother's wake. "What the fuck is your problem?"

I shut up as I realized that everyone in the room was staring at me, with a
horrified expression on their face. I had just lost it..I fucking lost it,
I thought as I pushed through the crowd of relatives and co-workers that
had come for a social gathering. I walked out of the room, down the hall
and outside into the sticky night air, where I saw Cynthia sitting on the
hood of my car. A cigarette dangled from her hand as she waved me over
towards her.

"Hey," she said as I took a seat next to her.

"Hey, yourself...I just went nuts inside there...you missed it," I said, as
I picked up the pack of cigarettes and took one. "You mind?"

She shook her head. "Nah, I bought a whole carton. I'll probably give the
rest to Great Aunt Hedda in there, unless I smoke them all first." We
laughed at the thought of Cynthia going through 200 cigarettes in one
night, as I lit one up. I hadn't smoked in ages, but I slipped back into it
like I had quit yesterday.

"Jesus," Cynthia said as she exhaled a thin stream of smoke into the
air. "What the hell, I never knew that this was going to turn into some
kind of shindig." She threw the butt of her cigarette on the ground and
reached for another one.

"I know. I thought wakes were supposed to be sad...not fun get-togethers,"
I said dryly, as I drummed my fingers against the hood of my car. "Maybe
Lance *would* have enjoyed it." Sick joke. I didn't care. I needed to say
something vulgar like that. It was brewing inside of me.

Cynthia looked at me just then. "Stephen, why don't you call him up. Tell
him what happened...I can tell you miss him so much, it's making me sick,"
she added with a smile.

"I know I do. And I want to tell him. But I've managed to live for,
what...three days without Lance?" I counted on my fingers. "Yes, three
days." Three long, miserable days, I thought as I took another drag on my
smoke.

"And look at how terrible you look. You miss him, Stephen. Jesus Christ,
you miss him and--" Cynthia suddenly stopped her self and stuck her
cigarette between her lips once again, as though it was a cork.

"And what?" I asked sharply, as I turned to look at her. She rolled her
eyes, tapped the ash off her smoke and then sighed.

"Aw, Jesus, I suck at keeping secrets. Stephen, he misses you," Cynthia
said looking into my eyes. "I talked to Josh today and he told me that
Lance has been drunk off his ass for like...the whole time since you've
broken up. Obviously Lance is one of those guys who soothes his problems
with a drink or two. Or ten."

"You're shitting with me, Cynthia. I know you are...did you tell Josh about
my mom?" She shook her head.

"No, I'll tell him eventually. Probably when he's gonna come out to visit
me later this summer," Cynthia said wearily as she began to massage her
temples. "I knew he would tell Lance what happened to you. All the guys are
worried about him."

"Make me feel worse why don't you," I sighed. "Cynth, I miss him so much,
you wouldn't believe it. But do I really want him to have to go through all
of this stuff? Make him sit through wakes, funerals...the will reading? No,
I don't. It's not right. He's a pop star--do you think he wants to spend
his whole break depressed because of me? It's not right, Cynthia. What I
did was for him...it was for the best--I think," I said
uncertainly. Nothing seemed to make sense anymore.

"Stephen, you're not thinking straight!" Cynthia screamed at me, her voice
echoing throughout the parking lot. "Goddamn it! If someone's in love with
you, they'll stay with you no matter what. Happiness, death...all the shit
that life brings upon you." She took a breath. "You've never been in a
relationship before Stephen! You don't know what it's like at
all. You...you just don't lie to people like that. Not someone that you
love."

I sat there, the cigarette lazily burning in my hand. I really didn't know
what to say or do, since I knew that my cousin was right. I hadn't been in
a relationship before. Maybe I didn't know what I was doing. Hell, with
what had happened, I was lucky I still knew how to get up in the
morning. All I knew was that I missed my mother. And I missed
Lance. Terribly.

"You think he misses me?" I asked Cynthia wistfully as I took a drag off my
cigarette.

"Stephen, I know he does. Josh wouldn't lie to me, sweetie. He's not like
that. He said that not only is Lance drunk most of the time, he's just
quiet. A quiet drunk is the worst, you know. He won't talk to anyone...he's
staying at Josh's now for the time being," Cynthia said. "So if you want to
call him...."

I took a deep breath. "Not now, Cynthia...I will, one day...but not now," I
said quietly, flicking the remains of my cigarette out of my fingers. My
cousin just looked at me, with a sad expression on her face.

"Okay, Stephen...I understand." And we remained out there for the rest of
the wake.




Everyone had left. Cynthia was still outside, waiting to take me home. But
there was one more thing I had to do.

I walked to the casket where my mother lay. I looked down at her, knowing
that this would be the last time that I would ever see her. Natalie looked
a lot like her...the same heart shaped face, sandy blonde hair...it was
weird to see my mother. All I could remember of her was the last time we
had spoken..she disowned me. And now...this...

"Mom," I said quietly, even though she couldn't respond. Maybe she could
hear me--I like to think that she did. "Mom...I know that we haven't talked
much...I know that you were mad at me when I left. I disappointed you
terribly and I want you to know that I'm sorry, I really am." I felt my
eyes fill up with tears as I continued on.

"There was so much I wanted to say to you, mom. I was so proud of you
working all the time to keep us afloat. You were always there for me in
high school." I swallowed back my tears. "In fact, I can remember at
graduation, you yelling out my name when I walked across the stage, and I
was so embarrassed. But really, I wasn't. I was so proud that you were
there for me." I felt tears run down my face as I kept rambling on.

"What happened to us mom? For awhile all we had was each other. It was me,
you and Natalie. Remember when we all went on that silly picnic that you
dragged us out on? I told you that I was too old to be going on a picnic,
but to be honest with you that was one of the best afternoons of my
life. So what happened to us mom? I know what it was, I told you I was gay
and that was it. You shut me out." The tears were falling down now,
unstoppable as I began to pour my heart out to my dead mother. I needed to
do this. *I needed to*.

"Why did you do that mom? Especially after all we went through? I really
thought you'd be there for me. We were always there for each other--after
dad died, when I got into college--*everything* and then it was over. Why,
mom? I just wanted to be happy with myself and if I went on living a lie, I
wouldn't be happy with myself. I'd be miserable."  I wiped the tears away
from my face.

"Mom, you would have liked Lance. I know you would have. You were so happy
when you saw him in the kitchen--and I know that you saw him again, not
under the best conditions, I know...but you would have liked him as my
boyfriend. I know you would have..." I trailed off the words and let out a
sigh.

"I love you mom...I always will, no matter what you said to me. You just
can't stop loving someone...I'm going to miss you so much, mom. You don't
know...." And with that I broke down completely, sobbing like my heart had
broken in two. And in a way, I think it had. I felt shattered. Run down and
emotionally drained. I felt like I had been pulled through the wringer, my
sanity tested...and maybe I had passed that test. Maybe this was a way to
get my thoughts together for good...

Eventually I stopped crying, but just barely. I felt terrible, but somehow
refreshed. Like I could face anything now. I had to get some stuff off my
chest, and I had just done it...

With that as my last thought, I placed my fingertips to my lips, and then
gently placed them on my mom's cheek. And then with one last look at her, I
left the funeral home for good.





"Readying to bury your father and your mother, What did you think when you
lost another?  I used to wonder why did you bother, Distanced from one,
blind to the other?"
	-- "Sweetness Follows"--R.E.M.


Funerals...what could you say about them, besides the fact that they're
depressing as hell. As if you're not depressed enough over the person that
just died, now you have to place them six feet in the ground and throw mud
over them. Now that's depressing, I thought as Natalie and I were ushered
into the limousine that waited for us outside of the church. It's funny
that they think you should travel in style to the death of a loved one,
isn't it? I never caught on to that aspect of the whole funeral thing, but
it happens and you just accept it like you accept everything else...

The actual burying of my mother happened rather quickly. It was all a
blur. There we were at the grave and before I knew it, she was lowered into
the ground, the priest said a prayer over her casket and it was over. That
was it. Bang. It was over.

As the crowd began to disperse, only my aunt, uncle, Cynthia, Natalie and I
remained at my mother's grave. Uncle George kneeled one last time next to
his sister's grave and stared at it for awhile, before standing back up and
walking towards the car. Aunt Florence followed suit and then Cynthia,
leaving Natalie and I alone together.

"You alright, honey?" I asked my sister quietly, as I knelt next to
her. She nodded at me and then wrapped her frail arms around my neck.

"Yeah..I guess," she said when we parted. "Stephen, I miss mom. I miss her
a lot," Natalie said so quietly, I could barely hear her as she tried to
hold back her tears. "I just can't believe that she's gone."

"Neither can I, Natalie," I said, sadly as my sister knelt next to the dirt
covered grave. She gently ran her hand over the soil and then turned back
to me.

"Well, at least she's in a better place now, right?" Natalie asked me
softly as she wiped her hand in my shirt. I smiled at her shifty little
move. I couldn't help it.

"Yup," I said, as I gave my sister a quick hug. What else was I going to
say? We parted and then looked at my mother's grave once more. And since
there was nothing left to say, we walked away from it, hand in hand.




"Stephen, I think you should know some things about your mother," Uncle
George said as we waited for our drinks to arrive. The five of us had gone
to a local steakhouse for dinner so that we could just relax after the
events of the day. I had felt wound up tighter than a spring at the
funeral, and since it was only the five of us, I felt okay. That is, until
Uncle George brought up my mother.

"What?" I asked nervously as I began to play with the silverware in front
of me. I looked at Uncle George who looked at his wife a bit uncertainly
before continuing.

"Stephen...your mother sent Natalie here because she had entered the
hospital..." My uncle shook his head and then went on. "She told us not to
tell you in case you called."

"What was she in the hospital for?" I asked him, my mind spinning at the
new news. Once again, George and Florence looked at each other before
speaking.

"Patty was in the hospital because she had taken an overdose of pills. The
psychiatrist she was seeing had given her an influx of medications and one
night, she took the wrong ones," Aunt Florence explained. I looked over at
Cynthia who just shrugged at me. Natalie was staring at the menu in front
of her, disinterested in our conversation. I looked back at my Aunt and
Uncle and nodded at them to continue.

"So she sent Natalie to us...Patty didn't feel that it was right for the
poor girl to be around her," Aunt Florence said, lowering her voice so that
my sister wouldn't hear the conversation. "And thank God--that poor child
is going to have to go through therapy after this, like you did when your
father died." I nodded, knowing how much I had hated seeing that
therapist. Now Natalie would have to go through it as well. She was exactly
the same age I had been when my father had died. Weird.

Suddenly, Cynthia's cell phone began to ring. All of us at the table looked
at her, as she scurried to answer it.

"Hello?" she said, looking a little embarrassed. "Yes? Oh really? Really?
Great...okay, I'll see you later...mmmm, yeah...ditto. Bye." She pressed
another button and then looked at her mom and dad. "The fish we ordered is
in," Cynthia said evenly, staring at her parents. A brief look of confusion
passed across their face and then they smiled, as though they had finally
got what she meant.

"Oh, is it?" Aunt Florence said, looking relieved and happy. "Good."

"Fish? What fish?" I said, confused by what they were talking about. I hate
being left out of conversations. And this was definitely one of those
conversations.

"Nothing," Uncle George said, dismissing the subject with a wave of his
hand. "You don't need to know." Our waitress came to the table then, and
whatever I was confused about, quickly disappeared as she began to take our
orders.




We arrived back at my house later on that evening. I felt a little better,
but not much. I mean, I knew I had family in my aunt and uncle, but in
reality, I was an orphan. Natalie was an orphan. There were so many
questions spinning around in my head. `What was going to happen to
Natalie?' I thought as we got out of the car and entered the house. I
couldn't take care of her. I didn't even have a job. And where was I going
to live? I knew that the mortgage on our house still hadn't been paid
off. I couldn't afford it by a long shot.

And as though this wasn't bad enough, Aunt Florence and Uncle George
announced that they, as well as Cynthia and Natalie, would be staying at a
hotel tonight.

"Why?" I asked them, as they came down the stairs with their
suitcases. "Aunt Florence, Uncle George--there's plenty of room for you to
stay here. Why are you leaving?" `Please don't leave me alone,' I begged
them silently. God, I didn't want to be alone. Why were they leaving me?

"Honey, we think that maybe you need to be by yourself for awhile. You
know, gather your thoughts..." Aunt Florence said hurriedly as she grabbed
onto Natalie's hand and led her out the door. "Take a nice long sleep--you
don't need me and George to breathe down your neck. We're stopping by
tomorrow though, Stephen, so don't worry about it, okay?" And they were
gone,

Cynthia passed by me, a small travel bag, slung over her
shoulder. "Stephen, get some sleep," she quipped before walking out of the
house. She gave me a quick kiss on the cheek and then gave me one of her
trademark smiles. "Just go to bed, okay?" And then she was gone. I watched
their rental car pull out of the driveway and down the street. Why had they
left? Even they didn't want to be around me.

I stood there in the doorway, feeling truly and utterly alone. And
suddenly, I wanted Lance. I missed him tremendously . My heart ached at not
having him with me. I regretted not telling him about my mother. I
regretted telling him that I wanted time apart from him.  And I regretted
telling him that I didn't care about him anymore. Because I did. Oh God, I
did.

I made my way upstairs then, taking Cynthia's advice to go to bed. I
desperately needed sleep. The upstairs was dark as I felt my way to my
bedroom and pushed open the door. Walking over to my bed, I flicked on the
light that sat on my nightstand. The room lit up then and as my eyes
adjusted to the change in light, I looked down at my bed.

There was a package on it. A flat manila envelope, that had something
inside of it. On the outside of the envelope, someone had written my name
on it in neat script. I picked up the envelope and opened it. Inside was a
cassette tape, whose label read, "Play me" in the same neat script. I
furrowed my eyebrows as I sat on my bed. I examined the tape for a few
seconds, before leaning over and slipping it into the cassette player that
sat on the nightstand. I pressed play.

There was a few seconds of silence, before I heard the faint hum of blank
tape. And then a deep, familiar voice...

"Stephen?" My heart dropped to the floor. "It's me..." He laughed gently at
this, and then began speaking again. "Lance...but you probably knew that
already, right?" He cleared his throat gently and then began to speak
again.

"Stephen...I *know*. Why didn't you tell me about your mother? Why? I
thought we could be honest with each other...why did I have to hear it from
Justin and not from you?"He paused.

Justin. I was going to kill him when and if I ever saw him again. "Stephen,
please don't be mad at Justin. I'm glad that he told me...I don't know what
else to say, Stephen....except this..." he trailed off and suddenly a
familiar song began to fill the air. It was the slow, sound of a twangy
guitar...and then a girl's voice...

"Times Are Hard And Rents Are High What Can A Working Girl Do But Struggle
Through Another Day Then I'll Take Care Of You"

I blinked when I heard this. It was the song. It was the song that Lance
had sang to me at the karoke bar. It meant so much to me...to us...I just
sat there and listened...

"Nights Are Long And Dreams Are Cold If They're All You Wake Up To But
Should You Rise With Crying Eyes I'll Take Care Of You

So Let Them Talk About Us Let Them Call Us Funny Things People Sometimes Do
I Don't Care As Long As You Know I Love You Oh, And You Know I Do

I'll Be There, But You Might Not See Me It's Never Easy To Get Through But
When The Laughter Dies Away I'll Take Care Of You"

Those words had never meant so much. And then the full force of what they
meant hit me just then. Sure, they had meant something to me when I had
first heard him sing them to me, but now...after what I had been
through. And now that Lance knew...God, they meant so much more ...I
couldn't believe that he had made this tape for me. He still cared, I
thought with a sad smile as I continued to listen to the song...

"So Let Them Talk About Us Let Them Call Us Funny Things People Sometimes
Do I Don't Care As Long As You Know I Love You Oh, And You Know I Do

I'll Be There, But You Might Not See Me It's Never Easy To Get Through But
When The Laughter Dies Away I'll Take Care Of You

Darling, I'll Take Care Of You"


I sat there as the song ended, blinking away tears as the tape faded off
into silence. I was alone again. I sat there, looking at my hands, watching
them shake as I realized that Lance still cared for me. Despite the rotten
thing I had done to him, that I had hurt him terribly, he still
cared. Lance still cared.

"Stephen."

The voice came out of nowhere and I immediately looked at the tape
recorder, thinking that Lance had taped something after the song. But only
silence was coming through the speakers. And then I looked up.

There he was standing in front of me. I blinked, thinking that I had
finally gone insane. I was seeing him, like a mirage in a desert, right?
But I was wrong. Lance stood there in front of me, a faint smile on his
lips as he locked his gaze with mine.

"Lance?" I asked nervously, not believing that he was here. In the
flesh. Right in front of me. He nodded gently and then walked over to me,
wrapping his arms around my body.

"God, I missed you," he whispered in my ear. "Stephen...I love you so
much." I looked up at him, still not believing that he was here in my
arms. Instinctively, I felt my mouth find a way to his and our lips met. It
was a soft, beautiful kiss that I wished would last forever. But I knew it
couldn't...

We parted and Lance stared at me with those green eyes of his. There were
so many emotions swimming around in them. My heart felt whole again...I
couldn't speak.

"Lance, I love you too. I'm so sorry about what I said...Lance, I--" I
began before he cut me off, placing his fingers to my lips to quiet me.

"Stephen, shhhh," he shushed as he pulled me down onto the bed. Lance
wrapped his strong arms arms around me and once again, I felt
safe. Protected. "I just want to hold you again," he whispered, as he
placed a kiss on my cheek. And since Lance wanted it that way, who was I to
argue with him? I eventually fell asleep, bittersweet feelings coursing
though my body as Lance held on to me for the rest of the night.




Did you really think I'd break them up like that? God, it tore my heart
apart to even write what I did! Thank you for reading and goodnight. E-mail
me at sweetheart_stories@hotmail.com and let me know what you think of this
chapter.

Okay, I skipped this at the beginning because I thought some of you'd like
to just get to the story. Well, I need to thank people...a lot of
them...since they've been so great in encouraging me: Damon , Clarke, Cele
(check out her wonderful Justin/Lance story called `Love Letters' at
http://www.angelfire.com/journal/LoveLetters/frames.htm--you'll be glad you
did), Khiem, John, Val (here's the advertisement and the e-mail
address--hee hee, j/k :) ) and Justin, who as you already know, is a
wonderful person, and I'll leave it at that.


Songs used in this chapter as follows: "Home" Written by Sheryl Crow; 1996
/"Where Are You Now" written by Kim Richey and Mary Chapin Carpenter; sung
by Trisha Yearwood; 2000 /"Sweetness Follows"; Copyright R.E.M./Athens
Ltd.; 1992