Fix: A Two-Part Story

Summer, age 16

Gage looked at the man's ID and back that the man again.

Max Harrison.

They had the same last name.

They had the same butt chin and dusty brown hair. Though this person's hair was well kept and groomed. Their eyes were the biggest similarity and simultaneously their biggest difference. Where Gage's father's eyes had a cold, blank haze, his alleged uncle's held a warmth and awareness Gage never encountered. It made Gage question what his own grey eyes looked like, especially in that moment.

This man was a different breed from Gage's father.

"No one ever told me about you," Gage started passing back the ID. "I assumed that it was just him. He made it seem like no one cared about us."

Gage's eyes drifted to the watch fitted to Max's wrist. An irritation prickled at his neck.

"Why would he keep you a secret?" Gage pressed on. "Did he fuck you over?" He expected Max to flinch, but he didn't. "Someone steal the other one's girlfriend? Did someone die?"

When Max looked at him, Gage expected to see a familiar hardness in his eyes, but warmth remained. An inkling of guilt stirred inside him. "He cut ties with me after our parent's passed."

"Why?" Gage watched Max closely, looking for a tell, anything, that would give away something less than the truth.

"The way they wanted their estate managed didn't give him the comfort he wanted, and it drove us apart."

"How long ago was that?" Gage asked, eyes flitting back to the watch, zoning in on it's fine quality. This guy's from another world. Only rich people use words like 'estate'. Dad was from that world? There's no fucking way.

"Not long after you were born actually."

"You've been out of contact with him for fifteen years?" Gage asked in disbelief.

"He'd reach out sometimes," Max said, his gaze going distant for a moment before shifting back to Gage. "He was never sober so I wouldn't call it a reliable line of communication."

"So what?" Gage asked, not understanding what was going on. Another wave of irritation ran up his spine. "Are you here for condolences, then? I don't get it."

Max examined Gage carefully without an immediate response. He questioned his decision to do this solo. He wished he would have waited for his wife, she was the talker or the cold social worker, if only for her experience. He pictured the life his brother led and drug his nephew into. Regret clogged his throat.

"Yes and no," Max said slowly. "I am here to pay my respects. Regardless of what happened between him and me, it is still terrible that it came to this. I also wanted to help with the funeral expenses. His life insurance policy will cover whatever arrangements you'd like to make."

"He didn't have any friends," Gage found himself saying. Not entirely sure why he felt the need to say it. "Not real ones, anyways." It was harsh but it was the reality of running the circles his father did.

"You never spoke of it?" Max asked. Gage just stared at him silently. "There's a family plot just outside of Connersville. It's where our parents are buried."

"Okay," Gage agreed easily. He had no interest in making the decision in the first place. "What else?"

Max cleared his throat and shifted up straighter in his seat battling nerves and the desire to get this right.

"What are you going to do now that he's gone?"

Gage froze. It was a simple question that shouldn't have felt so heavy. It came quicker to his mind than the grief of losing his father. His brain tore the question apart in his subconscious. All of it led back to his only option, the only viable one given everything about his situation and the lack of people who gave a fuck.