Skeletons

☠️4☠️

With the scrap of paper in one hand and the phone in my other, I dialed the number scrawled down in my uncle's handwriting.

I needed to know more about the Uncle Greg I didn't know. Find out why he lied to us. Calling this Will person was worth a try at getting answers.

The phone rang three time before a man's voice came through on the other end. "Hello?"

I swallowed. "Is this Will?"

"May I ask who's calling?"

I took a deep breath. "....Greg's nephew. I found your number in his things..."

The other end of the line was silent.

"Hello?"

"I went to college with Greg. We were friends. I'm actually in the area. Would you like to meet? I have something I was going to give him. I think you should have it."

I didn't know why I was getting choked up. After a shaky breath, I told him, "Yeah."

☠️☠️☠️

I stepped into the Waffle House and glanced around for the man who'd said he was wearing a green sports coat. I spotted him at a booth in the back corner just as a server stepped up.

"I'm meeting someone," I told her and walked off before she could reply. "Just get me some water." I didn't know if she heard that last part, but I kept it moving anyway.

The man, Will, stood up. He was a normal-looking guy. White, middle aged, not womanly. He held out his hand for me to shake. "Raphael? I'm glad you came."

"Yeah," I muttered gruffly, sticking my hands in my pockets.

Will lowered his hand and sat down. I took a seat and the server appeared, put down a glass of water, and left.

We were both quiet for a while before Will said, "I'm sorry for your loss. Greg and I had met by chance recently at a―"

"A gay bar?"

Will blinked. "A museum. I'm an anthropologist and came for work." He turned his rich brown eyes to the window beside us as he continued, "He said he was scoping out the place to decide whether to take his class there. I was surprised he became a teacher, but I guess it was the easiest move after he got married." His eyebrows pinched at the last word.

I tensed my jaw. "In college, did you know he was gay?"

Will looked at me and stared for several seconds, causing me to tighten my jaw more. Then he reached beside him and set a shoe box on the table. It was full of mail―no, letters.

I stared at the box. Will picked one out and handed it to me and I slowly took it from his hands. It was old, the envelope off-white in color. I lifted the flap and pulled out the notebook paper then unfolded it.

"Dear Will,

Remember when we went sledding on the Hill outside the campus library? When we crashed into each other, I really wanted to kiss you. I knew no one else would see. We were the only ones out there at one in the morning. But I was so scared. I knew that once I kissed you, there was no turning back. So, sorry again for shoving you away. My love for you was the most terrifying thing at that time. I wonder how my future would be if I had closed my eyes and allowed us to gravitate closer. Maybe I'd be dead on the street somewhere. Maybe I'd have no place to go home to on Christmases.

I have a girlfriend, Will. I'm dating her seriously. It's the right thing to do. I'm tired of living in fear. So, I'm sorry again, but this will be my last letter."

The edges of the letter were crumpled and I realized my own hands were the cause. I was shaking and my body was hot with rage. And like some pussy, I was crying. "Fuck him," I spat with a trembling jaw. "Fuck. Why?"

"Your face is beet red," Will said, shaking his head. "Who are you angry at?"

"My uncle. It's his fault. Everything is his fault. If he wanted to be gay, he should've just been gay instead of ruining our family." I pictured my mother's worn out face and the headline of that article. "If not for him being gay, none of this would have happened. He wouldn't have died."

"You're wrong." I looked up to see Will looking back at me with a firm, but calm expression. "It's not your uncle's fault. It's society's fault. If not for society telling us gay people how we should live, Greg wouldn't have suffered. Greg wouldn't have felt the need to do what society expected. If not for society and its homophobia, there wouldn't be any gay people marrying the opposite sex and 'ruining families.' There wouldn't be any angry nephews trying to figure out who to blame."

Will stared at me and I felt uncomfortably exposed.

"Greg had finally put his foot down and said 'Fuck You' to society. He decided to be himself." He pointed a finger at me. "And the society that punished him for that is the same one that cultivated this anger in you."

At first, I wasn't sure if Will was blaming me and trying to make me feel like I was the one who killed Uncle Greg.

"I heard there's going to be a protest. The local LGBT community is saying a big 'Fuck You' to the society that said 'Fuck You' to Greg."

"To my family," I blurted.

Will glanced away thoughtfully. "It's your choice whether or not your family wants to continue to be a part of that 'Fuck You.'"

I looked down at the table.

"I'll be there marching with the others and saying a proper goodbye to my first love." Will slid out of the booth and stood up. "Take care, Raphael."

He pat my shoulder once then walked off, leaving me alone at the table with the box of letters and a huge tip for the server. I stared at the cash until my vision blurred and I couldn't make anything out at all. And my rooted anger did the same as my vision. It was replaced with confusion and the feeling of being suspended in air with nothing to hold onto.