Death Is No Excuse

Just before he left today, the boy Tyler sauntered over and offered me a hit of home-grown.  I said no thanks, and he leaned closer, asking if I minded.  The soul of concern, of sweetness, light, peace, joy and hope, he asked: was it okay with me?  I shrugged and he rocked back in his shiny rubber boots and gave me a smile that made me start as if I’d scalded my tongue.

[This post is an excerpt from Diary of a Heretic, the novel. Click here to read the first episode, or here to read the previous one.]

Burning with alarm, I raced up here and jumped in the shower, which, because of plumbing work was ice cold.  But cold water was not enough:  I needed noise and distraction.  So, I sang old hits at the top of my lungs. An inner voice, however, does not need to shout.  It’s got a volume all its own.  I twisted and turned, trying to hold it back.  But the voice was already broadcasting my every thought, deeper, louder inside my head.
So what choice did I have? 

Name it and tame it.  Say it out loud.

Here goes:  Up close and smiling, this boy Tyler reminds me a little of my long-dead, first and only one who counts lover Colin.  More than a little.  A lot.

“Why all the uproar?” Colin asked once. “It’s so futile.”

“Because they’re wrong and I’m right. Give me a minute and I can prove it.”

“No, you can’t,” Colin had said.  “You don’t get a minute, ever. No one does.”

Why the fuck isn’t he here? He spun off a roof as I watched and I need him more now than ever. Young and rash, we basked in more love than anyone could fathom. I’m not exaggerating. As a spiritual leader, I recognize typical human limits. The way Colin and I worked? Imagine perfect unity and then give up. Colin and I were beyond the world. Beyond life and death, which is why, so what if he died six years ago? I need him, and death is no excuse!

(Click here to read the next episode.)