Michael glanced at the clock. Five A.M. Even though it was still dark outside, he didn’t think a beer was an appropriate beverage for this time of day. Neither did Vaughan. “No, thank you.”
His grandma cleared her throat. “I can heat up some coffee.”
The way his father looked at his grandma, Michael could tell that he didn’t want any coffee, but there was something about the way she spoke, something in her voice that made Vaughan accept. “That would be lovely.”
Watching his grandma scuttle around the kitchen, turning on the stove, pulling coffee cups and saucers from the cabinets, he realized his father agreed in order to give her something to do. It was an act of kindness and in this house that was rare. Perhaps this man, this absentee father, really could be his salvation.
“What do you mean you’re taking me home?” Michael asked.
It was Vaughan’s turn to clear his throat. “Well, I was just telling your grandparents that in light of the situation, it might be best for you to get away from here. It’s difficult for the elderly to raise a teenager.”
“With all due respect to ya,” Grandpa interrupted, “I already told ya we ain’t elderly.”
“I’m sorry,” Vaughan said, turning to face him directly. “My words are a bit different; they don’t have the same meaning. Forgive me.” Grandpa had no idea how to respond to a gentleman’s apology, so he furrowed his brow and shrugged his shoulders. “But, Michael,” Vaughan continued. “Well, you are my son.”
And where were you for the past thirteen years? Michael wanted to ask. Why did you wait until my mother’s death to swoop in here like a vulture to peck at what she left behind? Why did you let me fester in this place where I never belonged?! But Michael just nodded.
“And so I thought it best … oh, thank you,” Vaughan said, accepting the coffee from his ex-mother-in-law. “No cream; this is fine. Thank you.” Michael’s grandma smiled and sat back down at the kitchen table. “Your grandparents and I believe that it would be in your best interest if you came back with me to London.” The rain had stopped, the pathway was finally dry. “There’s an excellent school that has an opening. Archangel Academy. It has an outstanding curriculum….”
“Yes,” Michael said without hesitation. He didn’t see his grandma’s eyes water or hear his grandpa mumble “figured that.” All he knew was that this man, this stranger who was his father, had thrown him a lifeline and he wasn’t going to hesitate, he wasn’t going to dwell on past actions or question his motives. He was simply going to hold on to it and allow it to pull him away from here. He knew that if he didn’t grab on to this opportunity, his life would be as miserable as his mother’s and possibly with the same outcome. “Yes, I’ll go with you.”
Vaughan smiled, honestly, happily. He searched for a spot to rest his coffee and bent over to place it on an end table and then he hugged his son again, this time without feeling awkward, without worrying if the gesture would be reciprocated. And it was. Michael hugged him back and held his father tightly. He pushed away the memories that had latched on to his mind. Vaughan forgetting to send him a birthday card or Michael overhearing his mother arguing with his father because he canceled—at the last minute—a trip he and Michael were supposed to take. Those were petty and they were in the past. His father held him now with the promise of a future. And then his father left, explaining that he needed to catch an early flight back to Europe and, in a quieter voice, that he didn’t feel Grace would want him at her funeral. No one disagreed with him. Even still, before escaping into the early morning darkness, he informed them that he would pay for all of the funeral expenses and would arrange for Michael to fly to London in a few days. No one should worry about a thing. Michael for one didn’t. He was saved.
Watching the casket lowered into the ground, Michael hoped that his mother was now saved too. Saved from more decades of unhappiness and dread, saved from the knowledge that she was ridiculed by her neighbors, from any more pain that she could inflict upon herself. And saved even though she committed what the church considered a mortal sin.
Michael had sat through endless sermons and homilies in his life; he had listened to priests speak passionately about heaven, berate their parishioners for not leading lives worthy of entering heaven, and yet he still wasn’t convinced such a place existed. Now watching his mother’s body encased in an expensive, elaborately designed coffin that Vaughan had picked out and paid for, he wondered what was to become of her. Was she to be swallowed up by the earth and remain in this place for all eternity? Or had her soul already left her to travel the world silently, invisibly, to all the places she had never journeyed to when she was alive? What a waste if that was true, he thought. How could she have wasted her life—and his—by staying locked in this stupid town and refusing to venture anywhere else? He wasn’t going to make the same mistake his mother did. He was determined to live.
But at the same time, he was quite unexpectedly bothered by his grandparents’ willingness to let him leave Weeping Water. He didn’t really get along with either of them. His grandpa was caustic, his grandma voiceless, but they were, for better or worse, his world. And yet when Vaughan announced that he was taking Michael to London immediately since the school year had only just begun, neither grandparent had put up a fight. It was as if they were both relieved not to be duty bound to their daughter’s offspring.
He knew it was complicated and he didn’t blame them entirely; he wanted to leave this place more so than anyone. It just would have made him feel better if they had protested the tiniest bit. But when Vaughan finished his pitch by saying, “And you know as well as I do that Michael doesn’t belong here,” they both nodded their heads in agreement. So his fate was sealed without hesitation or hindrance. Michael tried to rally the anger to condemn his grandparents, but he couldn’t. It just confirms what I’ve always believed, he told himself.
A few days later Michael went to Two W for the last time, to clean out his locker and return all his school- books to the principal. His father had already made the necessary preparations for Michael to enroll in his new school; in fact, he would be flying to London later that night. He looked at the few mementos he had stuck to the back of the locker door and left them alone; there wasn’t anything he wanted to take with him. In a few hours this school and this town would be part of his past and he knew that if he ever returned, it would not be willingly.
“So, gaytard! Heard you’re going to an all-boys school in England.” Mauro had come to bid him farewell. “You must be creaming in your pants.”
Michael slammed his locker shut. He didn’t think about the choice, he just made it. “Shut up, Mauro.”
“Ooh, the gaytard finally talks back!” Despite his surprise, Mauro laughed and so did the group of kids who had gathered to watch the final round between Michael and his nemesis. In a strange way, he took power from his mother’s last action. Was she a coward, was she brave? It wasn’t for Michael to decide, but she had made a decision and that gave Michael strength. He could not allow Mauro to have the last word, not this last time, so he decided to follow in her footsteps and do something.
“I said shut the fuck up!”
Eyes widened, Mauro was truly shocked, but in no way scared, and when he spoke again, he took a few steps closer to Michael. “And who, Miss Gaytard, is gonna make me?”
Again Michael followed gut instinct and not thought. He dropped the pile of books he had been holding, turned to face Mauro, and shouted, “Me!” as he pushed him back against the lockers. Using the element of surprise, Michael pushed him again, this time harder so Mauro’s books tumbled to the floor and he lost his footing. It was then that he saw something he had never seen in Mauro’s face, a tinge of fear. “Me! The gaytard’s gonna shut you up!” Michael shouted.
Before the words stopped echoing down the hallway Michael threw a punch at Mauro’s face with such force that he bounced into the lockers. It didn’t matter that the punch only clipped Mauro on the chin, it didn’t matter that the only reason Mauro didn’t pounce on top of Michael was because one of the janitors pulled his arms behind his back; all that mattered was that Michael fought back. He faced a demon, this bully, and he didn’t cower.
Shaking a bit and red-faced, Michael saw that the crowd of students was looking at him differently. So this was what it was like not to be looked at like a fool, not to stand alone. It wasn’t the exit he had planned, but it met with his approval. He wasn’t the only one who felt that way. “Better late than never,” Mr. Alfano said, stooping down to help Michael pick up his books, smiling with that same look of respect he had given him the day before. “Good luck to you, Michael.”
“Thank you, sir.” But to the rest of the students, the ones who until that day had made his life miserable, who didn’t take a moment to reach out to him, he said good riddance. He had planned on being equally cavalier with his grandma, but when the moment arrived, he couldn’t be that disrespectful.
His grandpa had already shaken his hand roughly, told him to stay out of trouble, and was now waiting in the airport bar having a beer and so Michael sat among the other travelers with only his grandma as companion. “I will miss you and Grandpa,” Michael said, trying to sound convincing. “It’s just that … well, Archangel Academy
