Page 9 of Reece & Holden (Gomillion High Reunion #6)

CHAPTER NINE

Reece

“If you could just squeeze in a bit more,” the photographer calls, and we all shuffle sideways a little while still trying to keep some distance. I didn’t want to be this close to most of the people I went to school with twenty years ago; I certainly don’t now.

“Just a few more minutes,” he says, and several people around me groan.

I understand exactly. Eventually we’re released from the group photo of our whole year and I hear people take some deep breaths as the large group breaks up.

They’ll start doing the class photos next, and they’re doing it alphabetically so it’ll be a while until mine is called.

I look round for Holden but I can’t see him.

Maybe he’s not coming. He was very dismissive of me this morning.

It wasn’t the reaction I was expecting. I don’t know what I was expecting exactly .

. . anger maybe. Anger I could understand, I can deal with.

I’ve been angry with myself a lot over the last twenty years.

But he wasn’t angry, he was just cold, like he didn’t care, and that was worse.

Ever since I found myself back outside the store on the sidewalk, I’ve had a tightness across my chest. Now, as I glance around again and still can’t see him, it changes into a fluttering that makes me uneasy.

I know the feeling well, though it took me a long time and several therapy sessions to understand what it was.

It actually started back in high school, when my parents were going through their divorce.

I thought they were a tight-knit unit, unshakeable, but it seems they were both just very good at keeping things from me.

When I learned the truth, the world as I knew it fell apart.

Everything was moving so quickly—they started to argue and then my dad moved out.

It was all spiraling and at no point did anyone tell me the truth or even ask what I wanted.

I thought it was my fault. I thought my dad didn’t want to be around us because of me.

A couple of times when I’d heard them arguing—late at night after they thought I’d gone to bed but I’d snuck back down to sit on the stairs and listen—he’d said I was too soft, that I had no backbone, and that no son of his was going to grow up gutless and weak.

A couple of days later, my dad was going to fetch some wood and I begged to go with him.

On the journey I asked him to teach me to be more like him, to be strong.

I thought it would bring my parents back together, but of course it didn’t, as I learned later that it was my dad’s inability to keep his hands and other parts off other women that was the cause.

It took me much longer to understand that strength isn’t about not being soft, and being gentle has its own strength.

But for a few months I tried to be like my dad, I tried to emulate him, and ended up being the worst of him.

That gave me a situation I could control, and that was what I craved even if I hurt Holden in the process.

The tightness in my chest always comes back when I feel I’m not in control.

I’ve done what I can to control my life.

I’ve worked hard, I run my own business—as a partnership, but I get on great with Nolan and we communicate well.

I’ve not had many relationships, but that’s suited me fine.

When I decided to come to the reunion I thought I had this all worked out, but it’s not going to plan and I don’t know what to do about it. Except try again of course.

I spot Miles, he’s with Atlas again. Atlas walks off and I decide Miles is another person I can apologize to. I didn’t directly bully him but he was definitely on the sidelines.

“Hey, Miles.”

He turns slowly, his face neutral. “Hey, Reece.”

“I’m so glad I saw you again! I wanted to catch up with you. Were you with Atlas St. James?”

He takes a deep breath. “Yes, Atlas and I are together.”

I realize now that his deep breath was him gearing up to tell me, and that makes me sad, but I understand, so I answer brightly. “Well, way to go. He—wait, is that his, shit, their correct pronoun?”

He looks surprised by my answer but I want him to know who I am now.

“He/him for now,” he answers.

“He. Well, he’s quite a catch.” I give him a grin and he huffs a laugh, his shoulders dropping a little.

“That he is, Reece.”

I don’t know how to follow that up so it takes a couple of seconds for my brain to kick in. “I’m really happy for you, Miles. What else have you been up to?”

He tells me a bit about his handyman business and then asks me about my life, so I tell him about my business.

“Anyone special in your life?” he asks and sounds genuinely interested.

“Not at the moment.” It’s the truth at least, but I don’t want to talk about me.

“Can I say something, Miles?”

He raises an eyebrow. “Of course.”

“I wanted to apologize for my behavior in high school. I was a homophobic asshole, and that couldn’t have been easy for you to hear.

I’m sorry for any pain my ignorant, hateful words caused you.

” I pause, looking away briefly. “I hurt a lot of people during that time. It’s no excuse, but being in the closet can make you do horrific things. ”

His jaw practically hits the floor; he certainly wasn’t expecting me to come out to him.

I can’t help the derisive chuckle that slips out.

“Anyway, yeah. I didn’t know I was gay then, and my asshole dad always spewing anti-gay hate didn’t help matters.

I figured it out in college a few years later, and it all made sense.

But that doesn’t excuse any of my behavior.

I was a little shit. And I figured this reunion was as good a reason as any to make what amends I could. ”

He doesn’t say anything for a few minutes, so I guess he’s processing what I’ve just said. “What about Holden?”

Ouch, that was . . . expected, I suppose. “I’ve spoken to him, but he still hasn’t forgiven me. I need to make amends with him, big time, if he’ll let me. He didn’t deserve anything I did to him.”

“He really didn’t.”

I nod, tightening my jaw. If Miles could see what I was doing back then, what must everyone else think? I’m surprised anyone’s talking to me at all today.

“I’m glad to hear you’re trying to make amends, Reece.

You made some pretty awful mistakes, but it seems like you’re doing your best to make up for them now.

Don’t beat yourself up over it forever.” His voice is softer.

“Truth be told, I’ve beaten myself up for a lot of years for not stopping your bullying back then.

I’ve only recently been able to forgive myself for that.

It’s been so hard, and I didn’t feel like I deserved it, but I’ll tell you what I learned for myself .

. . Forgiving yourself might be the hardest part, but it’s also the most freeing. ”

His words snag in my core. I’m not ready for that yet, but I thank him anyway as he’s been kind and accepted my apology. He could have refused to listen to me. “Thanks for saying that, Miles.”

He claps my shoulder. “Of course.” And then, with an impressive non sequitur that I’m grateful for, changes the subject. “So, where are you living now?”

We talk for another twenty minutes and by the time we’ve finished they’re calling my class together for the group photo, so I make my way over.

We get into a rough cluster and it’s then I spot Holden.

It’s too late for me to move position as the photographer directs us to stay still, but I stay aware of him, ready to catch him once we’re done.

The photographer shifts us around a little and takes several different photos until he’s satisfied, and the last class is called to form up.

I see Holden move off and I turn to follow him.

“Reece? Reece Fisher, right?” A voice stops me and I look to see a familiar face, though it takes me a few seconds for the name to catch up with me.

“Marcia Stephens,” I reply. She looks well, her brown hair in a neat bob and she looks stylish.

“It’s White now, Marcia White.” She beams at me.

“Congratulations,” I say automatically and she laughs her thanks and tells me it was a number of years ago now. Marcia was my partner in science for the last couple of years. We made a good team as we both enjoyed the subject. It’s no surprise I became an engineer. I wonder about her.

“What are you up to?” I ask.

“I got into marine biology,” she replies. “That’s where I met Hubert.” She points to a guy who’s standing a little way off. He looks smart in dark slacks and a blue polo shirt. “We run our own research department now.”

“That’s great. Do you still live in town?”

“Hell no.” She laughs openly. “I left within the year. We live in Maine now.”

“What about you?” she asks.

“I live in England. I’m an engineer and a partner in a project management company, mostly on construction projects.”

She nods her approval that I’ve done well, which I have.

“A wife?” she enquires. And then quickly follows it with, “Or husband, life partner?” I almost snort at her attempt to be more open-minded. I didn’t date anyone at school, but she surely would have known I was openly homophobic.

“No,” I reply and when I don’t expand on that there’s an awkward silence for a few seconds.

“Well, maybe I’ll see you later,” she says, saving us both.

I agree and she heads back to her Hubert.

I scan the crowd, slight worry rising when I don’t spot Holden straight away.

Then I see him in the line for the yearbooks, and I join it so I can collect mine too.

There weren’t any yearbooks for the year we graduated.

The teacher in charge of putting them together lost the file.

Rumor has it that it was found again only two years ago, which was partly the reason for holding this reunion.

I wait patiently and watch Holden pick his up, hoping he won’t disappear in the few minutes before I collect mine.

When I do, I can see he’s surrounded by a few people all signing each other’s yearbooks.

I stand and watch him for a minute. He looks much better than he did this morning in his store.

He looks relaxed and has a ready smile that lights up his whole face.

He’s wearing a blue sweater vest over a soft-brushed blue-plaid button down.

The color suits him and he looks handsome.

A warmth blooms behind my ribs. He looks like a feeling I lost a long time ago.

I walk over to him, joining the group around him, being offered their yearbooks to sign and letting them sign mine even though I barely remember who they are.

Eventually they disperse and we’re left alone.

“Can I sign yours?” I ask him. His mouth flattens into a line and he snaps his book shut, hugging it tightly to his chest. I guess that’s a no, then.

“Can we at least talk?”

He hesitates, and I think he’s going to brush me off, but then he nods and leads the way over to a nearby bench. So, no privacy. Fair enough, I can’t blame him.

I take a seat next to him and put my yearbook next to me, and I run my hands over my thighs trying to rub the clamminess off my palms. Holden doesn’t speak, he just sits and waits for me to say my piece.

“I said so many hateful and hurtful things to you, ridiculed you, shoved you. None of it was right and you didn’t deserve any of it.”

I pause and swallow, needing a second to stop the shame from overwhelming me.

“I was going through a tough time with my parents’ divorce.

I thought, very mistakenly as I understand now, that my dad had rejected me, and I believed that if I was more like him he’d love me again. It was a shitty thing to do.”

“It was,” he says with a sigh.

“I’m gay,” I blurt out and feel Holden shift suddenly and turn his gaze on me. I dare not look at him so I keep staring straight ahead. “I didn’t know back then. It took me a few years to figure it out when I was in college. It took me several more to accept it.”

Neither of us speak for a long time. Right now I’ve run out of words, except sorry, I don’t think I’ll ever stop saying that.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper, and I’m met with another minute of silence. When Holden speaks his voice is low.

“Are you telling me all this b-because you think it’ll help me or to ease your own c-conscience?”

His words hit me right in the solar plexus and I can’t breathe. I don’t have an answer for him, not the right one anyway. The silence stretches until he sighs.

“That’s what I thought.”

He rises and starts to walk away.

“Holden!” I call. I don’t want it to end like this, it can’t.

He stops and turns, his green eyes deep and full of regret.

“I just w-wish things had been different.” His voice cracks at the end and he quickly walks away, leaving me staring after him. Any hope I had of forgiveness and making amends crumbles like dry fall leaves crushed underfoot and the pieces scattered to the wind.