The Boy with the Skunk Hair

Alex POV

“So what do you want?” my sixteen-year-old son, Ashton asks. He must be surprised I’m paying more than simple acknowledgement of his existence to him.

I hand him the piece of paper I have to carefully written, each word bringing back a painful memory. One I wish I could escape from. One I could erase from my mind. Things that part of me wishes never happened, and the other part – the bigger part – just wishing it didn’t end the way it did. Wishing my life was like a fairy tale rather than a tragedy.

I leave the room to let him read it on his own. I never told him he’s adopted. I never told him he originally had two dads, myself and Jack, the love of my life. My world. My lifeline. My life. He was everything to me and he was stolen from me. If a god exists, I ask why, why did you take him from me? He was everything to me; nothing and no one meant more to me.

As much as I hate it, my mind goes back into the days he was still walking this earth. When he saw me staring at him.

It was at our college campus library. His skunk hair was hard to miss. He seemed more interested in his phone than the pile of books in front of him. He would smile now and again, it lighting up his face. And even when he wasn’t wearing that grin, he had the smallest ever-present smile. I wanted to do nothing but go up and talk to him. But I thought it’d be weird; this was a big college and I didn’t know anyone but my roommate. He was nice enough, I guess. But it’s not like we’re really friends, just someone I’m forced to associate with.

The boy with the skunk hair glanced up and looked towards my direction. I practically jump and pretend something on my laptop was the most interesting thing in the world. The ever-present smile slightly grew, but not into a grin. He walked over to me; books abandoned, and pulled out the empty chair across from me and took a seat. He was still smiling at me and I felt my face go warm.

“I saw you looking at me.” He said.

I was completely embarrassed. I really hopped he isn’t one of those straight guys that get creeped out when gay guys look at them. But I was surprised when I felt his warm hand on mine. “Let me see your eyes.” I hesitantly looked at him in the eye; they were a beautiful shade of brown. He gave me a smile, a smile that looked and felt different from the others I saw. There was something sincere about it. “Maybe I shouldn’t say this. Actually, no, I know I shouldn’t. But I’m going to say it anyway. I think you’re in love with me.”

I was caught off guard. I just met him. Did I love him? I was never one that believed in love at first sight. I spent so much time thinking it was bullshit. But I think he was right, it was the strangest feeling in the world but probably the best feeling I had ever felt.

“What makes you think that?” I asked.

The smile remained on his face. “Your eyes.”

I blinked. Can you really tell that much about a person from their eyes? I never paid attention to eyes. I was surprised when I paid attention to his when he asked, but there was something about them that made me drawn to them.

“I’m Jack.” He said.

“Alex.” I stuttered out. “So, is the feeling mutual?” I mustered up the courage to ask.

He just smiled. “Maybe.” He replied. “Maybe I’ll tell you if you meet me at the café on east campus tomorrow night at seven.” And with that, he got up and returned to the pile of books.

I knew exactly which café he meant. East campus had a small, intimate café. It was always said it was great for first dates.

So I walked into the café a little over twenty-four hours later. My roommate was surprised to find out I had a date. It was the first time I’ve gone out since the year started. It was already November and he probably concluded I was one that kept to myself most of the time; which was partly true. If I had friends, I’d be out all the time.

It was five minutes before the time we were planning to meet. When I walk in, I was greeted with warmth and music. Not too loud that it would interrupt conversations, but loud enough to be in the background.

I was surprised to see him waiting at the front. He smiled that smile that felt different than his other; it felt like a smile you would save for someone special. He walked up to me and gently took my hand and he intertwines our fingers. We order our coffee and sat on a table in the corner. We talked, talked about our interests, talked about our major, and talked about anything really. Turns out we both liked the same music, he was majoring in filmmaking, and turned out we were both from Baltimore. I had never felt this connected with someone I had just met.

He was the one to make the first move physically. He kissed my cheek tenderly, and then he soon had moved to my lips. I had never felt so contempt in my life. What I felt made me wonder if there was always a piece of me missing. Like I was destined to find him. Like love at first sight, I never believed in soul mates. My parents divorced when I was six so I had high doubts about love. But this boy might just change everything.

That night, we found ourselves in his room. He didn’t have a roommate so we didn’t worry about anyone walking in on us. It wasn’t the first time I had sex, but this felt different from the others. I understood what they meant when they say ‘making love.’ It felt less lustful and nothing but feelings. I knew it for sure when he whispered in my ear that he loves me. I said it back using those three cherished words everyone wants to hear for the first time. Nothing had ever felt more right to me.

As the school year went by, we spent each day together, spending a lot of our alone time in his room when we weren’t drinking too much. Probably the memory of our drunken nights I remember the most was when I got more drunk than I usually did, he took me back to his room, gave me a glass of water, and rocked me to sleep. It was the first time he had held me like that and nothing felt better.

When the summer came around, we went home and introduced each other to our parents. I remembered my mom telling me she had never seen me happier. My dad was a little hesitant since he wasn’t one-hundred pre cent comfortable with my sexuality, but when he saw how I looked at Jack, he seemed to be okay with it. His parents warmed up to me instantly. Telling me they couldn’t expect a better man for their son.

That summer was full of late nights and kisses that were full of love. When it came to an end we decided to move into an apartment together. We hadn’t even been together for a year but nothing else felt more right. We always fell asleep with me holding him from behind, and I couldn’t deny that this is what true happiness must feel like.

College soon comes to an end, and were both thrown into what they call ‘the real world.’ It was terrifying honestly, but we supported each other because we were lucky enough to have that kind of a relationship. Working full time was hard and stressful, but we stuck through it. It was always worth it when we would get home and we’d spend the nights in comfortable silence, either watching TV or just holding each other.

I decided I wanted to marry him. We’d been together for almost five years and I was more than ready to take that step. So while he was getting groceries I went to the jewelery store. I settled on a silver band, nothing to fancy but perfect for him.

On a night I knew he was working late, I lit a few candles and made him his favourite dinner. I even went as far to get roses; putting them in a vase in the middle of the table.

The joy I saw on his face when he got home was worth it. He came right to me and kissed me. We started eating dinner, the ring box in my jacket pocket, waiting to be shown. When we finish eating, I gave him a smile and he returns the smile he’d been giving me since we first met.

“I love you more than anything in this entire world.” I told him.

“I love you too.” He said.

“And,” I get down on one knee and my heart fluttered at the joy I saw in his eyes. I took out the box. “I will be honoured if you would spend the rest of your life with me.” I open the box, and saw the tears of happiness well up in his eyes. “Will you marry me?”

He got down to my level and kissed me. He kissed me again, and again, and again; mumbling ‘yes’ between each kiss.

The wedding was small, just our family and our closest friends. It was the happiest day of my life. All those years with him I thought I couldn’t be happier, I was wrong. I was never happier than I was on our wedding day.

A year goes by and Jack asked me one day, “What do you think about kids?”

I looked at him. “With you?” he nods. “I think you can’t get pregnant.” He playfully shoves me.

“Seriously. Adopting a kid and raising him.”

I lean forward and kiss him “I would love nothing more than to raise a kid with you.”

Soon, all the adoption papers were signed and we were greeted with our son, Ashton. I fell in love with him when I first held him. I wanted to love this baby with everything in me. We decided he would work full time and I would take care of Ashton.

We were so wrapped up in taking care of him we didn’t notice Jack changing.

It started with him eating less, which was weird since he was usually a bottomless pit, consuming any food given to him and quickly. I was a little thrown off by it at first but he told me not to worry. I decided to brush it off since he seemed so sure of it.

But then he started to loose weight, and looses it quickly. He was a stubborn guy, and he wouldn’t listen when I told him he should go to the doctor. He assured me he was fine and it was nothing to worry about.

He started to seem tired a lot of the time, like his fun loving energy had completely disappeared. He then started complaining about stomachaches. He was first sure it was just a bug, but then it lasted for over a month.

Finally, he agreed to go to the doctor while I took care of Ashton. When I received a phone call from him, that’s when I knew my life had taken a turn for the worst.

“Lexi.” He said, using the nickname that made me melt.

“Yes, Jacky.” I said, knowing by just the tone that I wasn’t going to receive good news like I was hoping for.

“They said they’re going to run an MRI.” He said, his voice cracking. “Lexi, I might be really sick.”

“Don’t say that.” I said as my voice cracks. “Please, Jacky.”

“I have to go.” He said. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” I replied, my voice cracking.

We found out he had stomach cancer. It was like a punch in the face. We were told since we left it so long he only had a few weeks to live. I insisted he go on chemotherapy, even though we were told it wouldn’t do much.

As expected, the chemotherapy made his hair fall out. He wasn’t active. My mom offered to take care of Ashton so I could take care of Jack. We didn’t do much, mostly just laid down on the couch holding each other.

Soon he got so sick he had to stay in the hospital. I stayed by his side, holding his hand tightly. It hurt more than anything to see him like this. Someone that used to be so full of life was at such a weak point.

“Lexi.” He said weakly.

“Yes Jacky?”

“I’m dying.” He said.

I shook my head. “No you’re not.” I said.

He squeezed my hand, but it wasn’t as tight as it used to be. He was so weak and that hurt more than anything.

“Lexi, I love you.”

“I love you too, Jacky.” I said.

“I want you to know you were truly the greatest thing that ever happened to me.” And his grip loosened and his eyes stared into nothing. Finally, the tears came streaming down my face. I felt nothing but pain. It hurt physically in my heart. I felt like I couldn’t breath. The one person that made me believe in love was gone forever.

After his death, I drank a lot. My mom was over a lot, making sure I was okay and taking Ashton when I was at work or just too intoxicated to take care of him. I never would have thought something that gave me the greatest happiness in the world lead to pain.

As Ashton grew up, he asked questions like “why don’t I have a mommy?” I didn’t have the heart to tell him the truth. As he grew into a teenager and gained a better understanding of the world he assumed his ‘mother’ left or died.

He’s sick and tired of my constant drinking, sick and tired of rarely leaving my room and sick and tired of me being so closed off. I know it’s not fair to him, but I still feel the pain even fifteen years later.

I’m hoping the letter I wrote him would make him understand, at least a little. I’m hoping he won’t get too mad at me keeping so many secrets from him.

I made sure to end that letter with telling him not to fall in love, that it may seem like the best feeling in the world but something terrible will happen and you’ll feel nothing but pain, pain to the point where it physically hurts. I just can’t bare the thought of him going through the pain like I did when I lost the boy with the skunk hair.

Notes