The Curse of Knowing

Perhaps it’d been the air, or something to be imagined by the attendees, but it felt as though a thick miasma had been cast over the processions.

“He’d been a leader, a friend, and a son-” the priest droned on, attendees waiting patiently for him to finish.

Tucker Parson’s mother sat in the first row crying her heart out, a silent and stoic father waiting for it all to end sat to her right. A shaky hand silently caressing her back, hoping for this nightmare to be over. A crestfallen wife and a dead son; the only things left to him in this world. Thoughts swirled in his head as his life and all its grand plans were drawn to a halt.

Tucker never married, never had any kids- who was going to carry on their name? Mr. Parson’s thoughts left him only more and more depressed.

“May almighty God bless you, the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen,” with that final note from the priest, the procession stood.

To most onelookers, one man stood out amongst the rest. Charles Leyway, a renowned starfield scientist, walked towards the casket in the center hall. His shaking form and broken sobs implying that there’d been more to their relationship than mere acquaintances.

Why’d you have to go and leave me, Tucker- it’s not fair. You just proposed. Each thought wracked a sob out of Charles, the injustice of the world hammering down on him.

Astonishing, as no one seemed to know what he was doing here.

The mood drawn awkward led no one else but the mother of the deceased to speak up.

“Sorry to ask this, dear- but who might you be?” Deep concern filled her voice. “Our lovely boy seems to be dear to you, but I don’t recall him ever mentioning you in his letters.”

A bit taken aback, Charles looked at her with astonishment. “Truly, he never had?” Brows raised, his tone took on an incredulous tone as shock filled every bone in his body. Almost humorously, all signs of grief disappeared, drying tear streaks the only sign that he’d ever known sadness.

If he’s never talked of me before, is it right to say who I am? Surely they know? I swear he said his parents were excited to meet me.

“I’m Charles Lewway, Tucker’s fiancée. It's depressing to admit now, but after his last mission, we were supposed to marry,” a brashness to him overtaking any social pleasantries.

“No, that can’t be right- Don’t bring such blasphemous nonsense to the funeral of my son. He would never do something so unholy,” her face bright red, emotions swaying from sorrow to anger as if on a pendulum.

Her husband did very little to break up the fight, his face taking on a reserved yet disappointed look. Both at Tucker’s final failings, but at his wife as well.

Making a scene, did the women truly know nothing?

Setting long forgotten flowers on Tucker’s casket, Charles walked towards her. “He truly never spoke of me? Not once? Never in those letters he always took care to send you every week?” His voice rose with each intonation.

Through this argument, a man walked forward, his voice cutting through the tension like a dull blade through flesh. “Don’t act so surprised, Charles. Tucker wasn’t as perfect as you make him to be,” a snide tone if there were any.

Tucker’s mother recognized the man immediately.

“Andrew! Oh, what a blessing it is to see you!” joy overwriting her anguish. “You must tell this man he is mistaken- Tucker- he would never do such things. With a man no less!”

Tucker’s old friend, Andrew Herring, chief commander of the 17th Star brigade, hailed for his team's recent successes against the outer-world enemies. He looked at her with pity, yet there was an underlying joy in each of his words.

“I’m so sorry to break this to you, Mrs. Parson, but it’s true,” a momentary pause purely for Andrew’s sense of dramatics. “Don’t look so heartbroken, they truly did love one another,” a minuscule smirk on his face seemed to void the words of any comfort.

“There’s no need to be so cruel, Andrew- this is Tucker’s final resting! Have you no shame? You were his best friend, weren’t you?” Each breath came short for Charles, his eyes watering in anguished disbelief.

“He never told you, did he?” A look of astonishment crossed Andrew’s face. How much had Tucker omitted?

“I was his best friend, since diapers- Mrs. Parson here can attest,” a half-hearted hand tossed in her direction as Andrew moved on towards Charles. “Yet he just couldn’t help himself when everyone in basic training started picking on me for the smallest things.”

Coming to a halt, inches before Charles’ face, he muttered, an anger to his tone. “You know I used to be real small, barely reached Tucker’s chin. All scrawny like- my skin always fit too tightly over my bones. And my little sister- bless her heart, my sister sent me away with her favorite bow.” His eyes slanted into slits, “that was enough for the guys to start calling me names, the word gay had a way of sticking to the tiniest guy in the squad.”

“I’m sure there’d been some misunderstanding, Andrew! Tucker loved you-” Each word hurried, aiming to find some excuse in the material Charles had been provided.

“Yeah, sure- that’s why he helped the guys tear up that bow, ‘too gay for the squad’ they said-”

Charles’s mouth opened to say something, yet Andrew carried on.

“That’s why he used my trust to help those bullies vandalize my room- both of which, I might add, got me demerits.” His words came in rushed breaths, that feeling of hopelessness digging its way back into his heart. Feeling like that lone soldier all over again.

They all had to see Tucker for who he truly was. Andrew could not rest until they all saw him for the monster he was.

“I felt broken- Until I met Laura, my wife, I never saw a way out of that Hell.” Andrew's voice cracked with each heartwrenching word. “Yet she took a chance on me, helped me figure things out, got me on my feet,” a slight waver in Andrew's voice as he recalled her recent pregnancy, a miracle. “She helped me learn to trust people again, something I never thought I would be able to do.”

“You know he must have regretted it each day; he never told me, but I knew something held heavy over his heart every time someone mentioned you. Like- like there was something he needed to do.” Charles seemed to want to plead for Tucker’s sanctity, for forgiveness for divine sins. Liquid hope poured from each of his pores as if his own crucifixion could save Tucker’s damnation.

Desperate for others to confirm his own beliefs, Charles looked at a silent crowd, all attendees watching in silent judgment. The only noise coming from Mrs. Parson’s spiraling, a muttering that could be heard by all those nearest to her.

She was in absolute disbelief, lost in who and what she’d known. Her son, a queer? It was all too sickening.

Her voice rose, “Quiet! The lot of you, both of you are so- so repulsive.” A sneer on her face as she tried to take a stand on an island that was shrinking far too fast, no defense could truly protect her.

As Charles moved to interrupt, she quickly raised her hand to halt him. “And you, claiming to love him, my boy was a good Christian. He fought for this country, and I will not have you disparaging his memory,” her words nailing Charles in his place, a stake through the heart.

“I really would beg to differ, Mrs. Parson,” Andrew quipped. “See that ring on both their fingers; matching, I would say.” He peered over towards the coffin. “Your son always did have a flair for the dramatics, something Mr. Parson always seemed to try to beat out of him as a kid. Isn’t that right?”

“Now listen here-” Mr. Parson started, moving towards him as though to start and end a fight. Yet a phone rang, interrupting the building tension once again. The crowd looked around, trying to decipher its location.

“Mr. Herring, sir, a call for you just came through,” a landline attendant called towards the crowd.

“Ah- sorry, one moment,” Andrew moved towards the man on the opposite end of the hall.

Each step separating the past from the present, it’d truly been too much as Mrs. Parson’s legs buckled beneath her.

A homely mother was never built to deal with this stress, and she could only pray that God would help guide her towards redemption from this sinful day. Her eyes watered; surely, both these men are the devil’s incarnate sent to torture for sins she could not remember?

A hand rested on her shoulder; it felt heavy and strong, like the hand of her beloved. Yet the face of that man- that queerish devil spawn is what met her eyes; he looked so soft, yet his hands held a kindness that her husband could never seem to spare her.

“Get away!” she said, slapping his hand away. She rose with what felt like righteous fury. “You both-”

Before she could finish, Andrew cut in. “I’m so sorry, Mrs. Parson, it seems like my wife’s water finally broke.” Grabbing his coat from the entryway, Andrew moved towards the door to leave.

“I hope you’ll forgive my absence from the rest of this affair, but I must be on my way. You have my sincerest condolences.”

A mood no different from earlier hung over the remaining attendees; each breath felt different from what they had been hours before. Truths meant to stay buried, rising as the dead are laid to rest.