1 Grim Tidings Read Online Free Page A

to stifle a laugh as Rose launched into a story about St. Olaf. While Golden Girls may seem stereotypical for a gay man – and it is -- there are some stereotypes that have to be embraced. At least that’s what Jerry always tells me. Golden Girls is one of our coveted nightly rituals. We also watch Little House on the Prairie . We’re multi-faceted weird.
    We watched the episode in silence for a few minutes, but then I felt Jerry stir beside me. “So, Bug, you haven’t told me how your day went.”
    That was on purpose. “It was fine.”
    “Fine?”
    “Fine.”
    “That doesn’t sound very convincing. I would think a day of gathering human souls and helping them pass to the great beyond would be fulfilling.”
    Yeah, Jerry is in on the big family secret. I told him when I was eight. My dad had some sort of fit when he found out but he eventually got over it. Jerry is a part of our family, by right if not birth. My dad won’t admit it, but even he is fond of Jerry and his antics.
    “It was fine,” I repeated, trying to convince Jerry -- and myself -- that I was telling the truth.
    “Then why are you so stiff?”
    “I’m not stiff.”
    Jerry ran his hands over my shoulders, kneading the knots out of my back. “You feel stiff.”
    “How do you know when a woman feels stiff?”
    “Honey, there’s nothing about anything stiff that I don’t know about.”
    I wrinkled my nose. “Thanks for that visual.”
    “That’s what I’m here for.”
    “I thought you were here to keep me entertained?”
    “That’s what I was doing.”
    “Oh, good to know. Sometimes it’s hard to tell.”
    We lapsed into silence again. I was hoping that Jerry was going to forget about my first day at work. I should have known better.
    “So, how was work?”
    I blew out a frustrated sigh. There was no way out of this. So, I told him. I told him everything. I told him about Stan. I told him about Aidan. I told him about my dad and the big argument. When I was done, Jerry’s body was taut with anger. “Your dad makes me mad.”
    “He loves you,” I pointed out.
    “He loves you, too, Bug,” Jerry said, his voice low. “He just has trouble with you.”
    “Because I’m a girl?”
    “No, not because you’re a girl, although that probably doesn’t help.”
    I glanced up at him in surprise. I was expecting the answer to be yes. “Then why does he have trouble with me?”
    “Because you remind him of your mother.”
    That hit me hard so, of course, I denounced its truthfulness without even considering the possibility that he was right. “That’s ridiculous.”
    Jerry ran a hand through his dark hair and fixed his somber brown eyes on me. “Bug, I love you dearly, but you are completely ignorant when it comes to your father.”
    “I grew up with him,” I argued. “I think I know him a little better than you.”
    “In some ways, yes,” Jerry agreed. “In others, though, it’s like you’ve never met him.”
    I pondered the idea for a second, but forcefully pushed it out of my mind. “There’s no way,” I said. “I don’t even look like my mother. I look like him.”
    “You all look alike,” Jerry agreed. “Your mom was all blonde and sunny, and you guys are all dark and broody, but it’s there.”
    “What’s there?”
    “The voice. The slope of your nose. The way your forehead furrows when you’re thinking really hard – like now. That all comes from your mother.”
    I opened my mouth to argue, but Jerry silenced me with a look.
    “Your dad is a good man, but he’s also a man haunted by your mother’s death,” he continued. “And, when he looks at you, he thinks about what could have been. What should have been. He wonders what would have happened if your mother had waited to go into that building until the fire was completely out. What would have happened if she had been ten feet away when the roof collapsed. What would have happened if he had gone instead of her, as he was supposed to.”
    I felt my