| May 17th | Friday Morning |

~ Sam's POV ~

As I sit passenger in Dane's car, I try not to think too far ahead, knowing if I start doing that, unnecessary worry will appear. Despite the way I feel about Dane's situation, there's no denying that I'm glad he asked me to accompany him. In my own personal way, I saw it as giving back, just like Blair, Shawn and Megan had helped support me through my tough times.

"I think you're more nervous than I am," Dane says, cutting through the silence.

"Nah." I tell a white lie. "I mean, I man be a little nervous, but I have anxiety, so it's normal."

"You have anxiety?" he asks.

I nod. "Yeah, definitely."

"Well, you hide it well," Dane jokes. "Except for now."

The drive continues and Dane and I keep up conversation, sometimes talking about small aspirations we have, our opinions on the state of the world, and other enlightening topics. It's nice to be able to talk with someone about pretty much anything, and he had a lot of great talking points.

"You know what I wish?" I start. "I wish there were places where adults could hang out and it not be centered around drinking. I mean, why isn't there any sober cafés?"

"That's actually a really cool idea," Dane agrees. "Like a cool coffee-shop-styled café, maybe with a small library, outside seating with a small stage for performances..."

"I can totally see it." I play into the dream. "There's hanging Christmas lights, you know, to give it a chill vibe."

"And food trucks could stop and sell their food right there!"

What I'm picturing in my head looks amazing and inviting and all the things I wished to enjoy.

"I've always wanted to start a business," Dane admits.

"Any reason why you haven't?" I ask.

"Money, opportunity, you know, the usual setbacks."

"Right."

I check my phone and realize we only have about thirty minutes left until we get to our destination.

"My brother Shawn..." I start. "He helped start up the bar I managed back in Missouri..."

Dane glances at me. His warm brown eyes light up.

"Maybe – and it's a long shot – but maybe, he could invest in one of your business ideas?" I say. "I mean, honestly, my mind's going a million miles a minute about this sober café."

"You serious?" he asks.

"Yeah." I shrug. "He'd probably be really into this idea, actually. You two should meet. I think he'd like you."

The conversation ends as we pull up to the church where Dane's mother's funeral will be held, and he shuts the car off. There's this look in his eyes, as if he's being taken back in his mind to his teenage days. His dark days, despite sitting right in front of a place of worship. Did this church trigger his trauma?

"I should warn you," he starts. "You might hear some things..."

"Don't worry about me." I shake my head. "If there's anything I'm used to, it's ignoring ignorance."

I watch Dane relax at my confession. He knows he doesn't have to worry about me, or about his family offending me. Hell, the reason I'm here in the first place is because his family would have probably harassed J.C. with subtle – or not so subtle – comments.

We exit the safety of his car and walk toward the congregation of people. The Georgia heat is almost as bad as Florida's, so I adjust my blazer and straighten my hair. When we pass a group of people, they begin to recognize Dane, who is solely focused on getting in the church. That's when I hear what he warned me about.

"Is that Dane?"

"Dane? Who's Dane?"

"And who's that girl?"

"Girlfriend, maybe?"

"That ain't his girlfriend. Dane is Jamal's faggot son."

It takes every ounce of strength I have not to turn around and drop the man who said that. I feel the familiar rage Megan had warned me I would possibly feel, but I ignore it and push past the unfamiliar crowd. If Dane heard the comment, he's a master at hiding it.

The church is beautiful and massive, and his family is filling the empty space it has to offer. The casket is at the front of the church, near the altar, and Dane hesitantly moves toward it. I follow instinctively, trying my best to ignore the side stares.

I'm here for Dane, I remind myself. I'm not here for anyone else, so just ignore them.

When we make it close enough, I stop and wait at the edge of the pew to give Dane space. I remember years ago, when I had gotten the scary call concerning my mother having a heart attack. My eyes glance at Dane, who is studying his mother sadly, and I realize, our experiences aren't too different from each other. His hand falls on hers, which are crossed over her chest. I look away and give him a bit more privacy.

When he finishes his prayer, he walks back up to me.

"Let's find a place to sit," he suggests.

I follow next to him as he leads me to a middle pew that's empty. I try my best to remember church etiquette in hopes to make it easier on Dane, but probably fail miserably. We settle into the pew and prepare for two o'clock.

"Dane?" I hear to our right.

"Alanie," Dane greets as he stands. "How're you?"

The younger woman falls into Dane's chest and begins to cry silently. It's only slightly uncomfortable because I'm unsure what to do, so I remain in the background. Part of me wonders if this could be the sister he's mentioned, the one who told him about his mother being in the hospital.

"I'm glad you came," Alanie says.

"Of course, I came." Dane rubs her shoulders. "Where are you sitting?"

Alanie points to a pew closer to the altar, where the immediate family is supposed to sit. I can tell she wants her older brother to join her, but I'm assuming the father wouldn't allow it. Finally, she gathers herself and looks past Dane. She extends her hand.

"Hi," she greets. "I'm sorry. I'm Alanie."

"Sam," I greet. "I'm sorry for your loss."

"Thank you." She looks at Dane. "Why didn't you bring Andre?"

Dane gives his sister a look that tells Alanie she should know better than to ask such things.

"He's never even met mom," Dane informs. "This would just be confusing for him."

Alanie realizes the mistake in her question and nods in understanding. Then, the pastor calls for everyone to take their seats to begin the ceremony. Alanie squeezes her brother's hand and leaves us. It's all a lot to take in at once, because in the same instance, I spot who could only be Dane's father, staring at him from the front of the church.

Dane's shoulders tense, but he doesn't back down, and sits next to me with an unwavering expression.

~

The ceremony ends with a prayer around his mother's grave and eventually people start filing out of the church's graveyard. I wonder how Dane is feeling right about now, because he hadn't showed any sort of emotion since locking eyes with his father at the beginning of the ceremony. I'm worried about him, but I know he's prepared himself for today, so I shouldn't worry too much.

We watch the crowd begin to disperse and head to where the funeral reception is being held while we linger. I keep my eyes trained on Dane's father, who is sending everyone off with stiff nods and words of thanks. Alanie and who I'm assuming is her boyfriend, stay around the patriarch, but I can tell she wants to talk to her older brother more before we leave.

I doubt we'll be going to the reception.

When Dane's father is talking to the pastor, Alanie rushes over to us. She has something in her purse, because her delicate hand is resting on it, hiding it, probably from Dane's father.

"Mom wanted me to give this to you," Alanie whispers. "She..." Her words stop from emotion, and she blinks away her pain. "She loved you, Dane, and she's sorry..."

"Stop," Dane orders. "Please."

Before either of them can say any more to each other, Dane's father starts toward us. Dane hands me the envelope.

"Can you hold on to this?" he asks.

I take the envelope. "Sure."

As his father grows closer to the four of us, I feel the tension tighten and threaten to strangle any leftover happiness out of us. Dane, who looks a lot like his father, despite his more athletic physique, stands his ground for the confrontation.

"Alanie, Jalen, I'll see you at home," he says, silently ordering them to leave.

Alanie wants to protest, and Jalen grabs her hand in comfort, but they decide to leave, giving me and Dane looks of sympathy on their way out. Then there's three, and I can feel Dane's pain. It infuriates me. It scares me. It hurts me.

"Could we have a moment, please?" Dane's father asks me.

"Yes sir," is all I say before walking away.

I don't go far and take this as an opportunity to update Megan. She should be at school right about now, tutoring Ava while they wait for Lisa to pick her up. Part of me wonders how their Friday is going compared to mine.

"She's my mother, and I have every right to be here," I hear Dane say.

"You haven't been a part of this family for a long time, Jamal."

"Don't call me that."

I know I should go farther away to give them more privacy, but their voices keep growing louder regardless. Just the little that I can hear is upsetting me and making me want to intervene, but I know I don't hold that right. I don't know Dane's father, and I don't want to step into Dane's fight. I bite my tongue and wait for them to finish.

"You should be ashamed for even stepping foot in that church."

"Because of my sexuality or because you're too ashamed of me tainting your image?"

I run my thumb nervously against the blue envelope that Dane had asked me to hold. The animosity in his father's voice makes absolutely no sense to me whatsoever. How could someone be so immersed in their own fear and hate to be unable to see past it at their own wife's funeral? How could someone treat their own blood so harshly? As if they weren't even human?

Dane then emerges from around a mausoleum and signals that it's time to go. I offer him the envelope, and in exchange, he offers me the keys to his car. I take them.

"Could you drive?" he asks.

"Sure."

The anger he's emitting touches me like the sun's rays. I've never seen Dane so upset, but this is something I had been aware could happen. He stomps around to the passenger side of the car and climbs in, slamming the door just a little too hard. I climb in as well and start it up.

And I race out of Georgia as fast as I can.

~

So far, the ride back home has been silent. Dane stares out the window, his expression emotionless as I listen to the radio drown out the silence. I want to talk to him, but I'm not sure if he wants to talk at all. But after a few hours of silence, I figure he's had enough time to calm down.

"Your sister and her boyfriend are nice," I say.

"Yeah," is all he says.

I stop talking again and wonder if I should just drive and let him be. The pain on his face makes me want to crawl in a hole. It hurts me, thinking about what his life was probably like as a child. No one should be ostracized by their family, or belittled by their family, or physically hurt by their family. Why some parents feel an unfathomable amount of hate for their child who is different is beyond me, and I'm afraid I'll never be able to understand it.

It isn't until we're about thirty minutes away from Dane's home that I hear him ripping the envelope open. It's dark, so he flashes his phone's flashlight to read the cursive handwriting on the college-ruled piece of paper. Once he's reading, everything falls silent again.

He stares at the paper for a long while, long enough for me to pull up into his driveway, turn the car off, and look at him. He doesn't even seem to be reading it anymore, just staring, or comprehending. I'm not sure.

And before I can break the silence, he bows his head and begins to cry.

At first, I'm uncomfortable, because a grown man crying is something so out of the realm of what is normalized to me. I'm still as sit and stare at his house, frantically thinking of what I can do, or if I should do anything at all. All I know, is that the strained tears silently falling from Dane is enough to make me want to join him.

I glance at him, and I've never seen someone look so broken. He's dismantled, and his tears are soaking the letter that is from his mother. Suddenly, Dane isn't the cool, charismatic, and happy twenty-six-year-old man I know. He's the broken teenager who was cut off from the people he loved. He's the abandoned child craving any type of love and warmth he can find.

"You know," I find myself saying. "When I think of you, Dane... I think of how amazing Andre is gonna be when he's your age. I think about how much you and J.C. give him, and love him, despite the shit you've gone through."

I hear him begin to compose himself, but I don't stop talking.

"I don't know why people like my mother and your father are the way that they are." I look at him. "But what I do know is that I will never pass on that pain and trauma to my kid, if I ever have one. You showed me that it can be done. You showed me what a real parent should be like."

His hands grip the edges of the letter and shake with pain, but he remains silent. He's no longer crying, but I know he wants to. Maybe his eyes are just too tired to continue.

"I have a therapist that I see..." I say. "She's wonderful, and I think you need someone to talk to. I know you have a handle on things but, it could help you find closure and heal your wounds."

He just nods and clears his throat. I know he's probably embarrassed, but he has no reason to be. If anything, I think he's handling the events of today miraculously well, because I probably would've lashed out if it had been my family.

"Thank you," he struggles. "Thank you for coming with me, and uh... I think you're right, about the therapy thing."

"I'll text you her info," I inform.

We finally exit his car and he stays outside long enough for me to approach and unlock my car. I know he's composing himself further before heading inside to his family, so I linger as well to make sure he doesn't need anything else.

"I'll see your later?" I ask.

His sad eyes look up and they're bloodshot. He stiffly nods his head again. Then, suddenly, I'm compelled to do something I never do with really anyone other than family.

I move in and hug him, tight, and he hesitantly accepts the gesture. His arms shake around my torso, but if there's any chance that I could absorb even a little bit of his pain, I would.

"You're allowed to feel angry and hurt," I whisper into the night. "But please don't let it break you."

He inhales a deep breath, probably trying not to start crying again, and I pull away when he exhales. Then, we bid our goodbyes and I head home to Megan, practically dying to see her and feel her warm embrace. When I walk in, she's stands from the couch and immediately sees the pain on my face. The tears start and the cuts start to bleed.

And she just wraps her arms around me as I begin to sob.

***A/N***

For everyone who struggles with depression, September is suicide prevention month. If any of you need help or to talk to someone, 1-800-273-8255 is the US's national suicide hotline. You can also visit their site here: https://suicidepreventionlifeline.org/ for more information. I know this is a heavy chapter that might hit a little too close to home for some. Just know that you are not alone, and there are people that love you immensely, just the way you are. Please don't be afraid to speak up if you need help. Also, my message center is a safe space, just like my profile.

In lighter news, I hope everyone enjoyed the double update this week. I will be traveling for about a week-and-a-half, and most likely won't update in that time. I've also created some playlists for everyone to enjoy if they want a glimpse into what Sam and Megan may listen to on a daily basis!

Sam's Playlist:

https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLRpzTgX5CJW3gns6w-266XrmaEkC5-ueh

Megan's Playlist:

https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLRpzTgX5CJW1yjNxFBK5lQfKPJ0TFExzX

Follow me on Twitter:   (@)laurynabrooks

Visit my site:  https://www.laurynslgbtbookshelf.com

Be Proud. Stay You.

Lauryn