Broken Rules Read online

  "Oh, for goodness sake, Jonah. You're cleaning dirty. Get those stems off."

  Jonah frowned down at the grapes he was running under cold water. Nodding distractedly at Rita-Anne, he put the grapes back in the plastic bag they'd come in. Picking off each purple globe, he began to wash them again without the stem.

  "What's wrong, mon petit chou-feur? You're not yourself today." Rita-Anne came up behind him, weaving her arms around his waist and resting her forehead between his shoulder blades.

  "I'm fne, Reet. Just got a lot on my mind." Another day and yet another weird, confusing mood for him. This was turning out to be a heck of a week already. He was glad Henry had commandeered him yesterday after coming back from the grocery store. They'd sat in the basement and watched hockey, threw on Bloodsport, ate all the munchies and drank all the beer they'd picked up for today. Henry was currently back at the grocery store picking up stuff again, after getting stink eye and a dressing down from Rita-Anne. Jonah had been tasked with washing the vegetables and fruit. Hence, the grapes he was painstakingly cleaning this morning.

  "You want to talk about it?"

  He paused, feeling the water trickle down his wrists. "I want to go to the hospital." It wasn't even an excuse to get out of doing the veggies. Although… it was a defnite plus. He hated doing this. It reminded him too much of when he was little and used to help his mom in the kitchen. His dad had hated it, called it woman's work, but Mom always asked him to help, regardless.

  Rita-Anne backed up, pushing his shoulder until he turned around to face her. "What's wrong?"

  "Nothing, I just wanted to talk to Mom's nurse."

  "Matthew? Why?"

  "I don't know. I just… I just want to talk to him." He didn't know how to put his feelings into words. He felt edgy, restless, like he was on the verge of discovering something and still didn't know what it was. He just needed to go to the hospital and his time here was running out. It was already Thursday and the funeral was in two days. He was supposed to leave the day after that. His week off was quickly disappearing and he hadn't even come to terms with the reason he was here, yet.

  "You want me to take you?" She rubbed her hand along his shoulder, giving him the comfort he needed.

  "I kinda want to do it myself, if that's okay."

  "Of course, chou-feur, whatever you want."

  "I'll be back in time for the get-together, I promise."

  "Oh, bah, I don't care about that. Henry can fll in for you until you get back home."

  Jonah thought that was part of the problem. He didn't know where home was anymore.

    

  "Hi, I'm looking for Matthew Clark. Is he in today?"

  The hall of the small hospital was crowded; soles squeaked on freshly scrubbed foors, the walls were just about sparkling, they were so white. Jonah fdgeted at the nurse's station, still not sure what he was going to say to Matthew, but sure this is what he needed to do. He hated this smell, the cloying scent that all hospitals seemed to have. Some combination of sickness and disinfectant, covered up with the perfume of dozens upon dozens of fower bouquets. What was it about giving fowers to people that were sick and dying anyway? The fowers just ended up dying too, and what kind of message did that send to the people left behind. 'Ooops, so sorry your mom died, now here's a bouquet that will die in three days and remind you all over again of your loss.'

  He still had no idea what his mom was thinking in her last days and he needed some kind of closure. That's what grieving people did, right? Only, it all still seemed so off. Maybe it was because he hadn't seen her in so long, but it felt like she was still around. Like she'd just gone on vacation and he was just waiting for her to get back. Only, she would never come back, she was gone and he needed to accept it. Part of him realized that he was still in denial, and he needed to do something to get past it. He kept waiting for his mom to walk in behind him and kiss his cheek and ruffe his hair. He needed to say goodbye. Needed to let her go if he had any hope of moving forward.

  His life felt like it was in some weird limbo since coming back to the Tri-Towns. He couldn't explain it, couldn't quite fgure it out but there was something about this town. It brought back all his old feelings from when he was a teenager. As if the past decade hadn't been. But at the same time, he couldn't forget what happened. Couldn't forget the events that had made him run screaming out of town ten years ago. He didn't want to forget his life in Calgary, he liked it there. It wasn't home, but it could be. In time. He just needed to get over whatever was still keeping him here. Forever eighteen, with all his broken dreams in tatters around him.

  "Hi, I'm Matthew. Can I help you with something?"

  Jonah lifted his head to spy the lithe fgure coming toward him. For a moment, his frst thought was that he didn't blame people for thinking this guy was gay. He instantly felt bad. He hated when people made snap judgments about him, and here he was doing it to someone else. Matthew was defnitely on the short side, probably no more than 5'4". He was trim, with short ash brown hair and the most gorgeous dimples when he smiled. There was something about the sparkle in his eyes that made him seem like he was perpetually in on an inside joke that he had no intention of sharing with the world.

  "Hi, I'm Jonah Chevalier. I'm sorry to interrupt."

  Matthew's handshake was frm, his brief up and down glance quick and nearly seamless. Jonah smiled, suddenly sure about the man's sexuality. He held Matthew's hand for a second longer than he needed to, making the other man's grin widen.

  "Chevalier? Are you Jane's son? From Calgary?"

  "She talked about me?" That surprised him. He didn't know what to say.

  "Hey, why don't we go outside and talk for a bit. I'm assuming you wanted to know about your mom? Oh wait… give me a second. I have something for you. I'll just go run and get it before I forget." Matthew instantly took off, his compact body apparent under the scrubs he was wearing. Jonah smiled to himself, glad that he could still share a harmless attraction with another man. He wished life could be that uncomplicated. Why did he have to fall for someone that was so completely out of his league? Why couldn't he be interested in someone like Matthew? Of course, he didn't know Matthew, maybe he wasn't quite as uncomplicated as he seemed at frst glance.

  Matthew came back within minutes, holding an envelope in his hand. "I was hoping you'd pop by. If not I was going to track down your cousin and give this to her to give to you." He held out the envelope.

  Jonah stared at it, not sure he wanted to take it. "What is it?"

  "It won't bite."

  He couldn't help himself. "Will you?"

  Matthew instantly erupted into peals of laughter. "I just might, so be careful."

  "Sorry, couldn't resist."

  "No, don't apologize. Trust me, you have no idea how nice it is to meet another guy up here that doesn't run screaming at the sight of me."

  "Merde, don't I know what that feels like." He led them outside, heading for a small bench around the corner. Matthew shivered and Jonah glanced around. He probably should have suggested somewhere else. Not that it was all that cold, but the wind off the lake was a bit brisk this morning. Sinking down, he gestured for Matthew to sit.

  Matthew perched on the edge of the bench, bringing one leg up so he could face Jonah. He still clutched the envelope that Jonah didn't want to read. "How'd you live here for so long? I mean, I've been here a handful of months and already I want to poke my eye out at the looks on some guy's face, and I'm not even out here."

  "Yeah, that doesn't much matter. They all assume you're gay anyway. This isn't exactly the most open-minded town. Well, I shouldn't say that. There are a lot of really good people that just keep quiet. It's the vocal assholes you have to ignore. There's a handful of them and they'll make your life hell if you let them. Besides… I'm not exactly out here, either."

  "Ah, gotcha. Can't say that I blame you. So, that means you're out back in Calgary?"

  "Yeah. Rita-Anne said you were from Toronto?"

>   "Born and raised."

  "Why'd you come up here, then?"

  Matthew tilted his head. "It's a long story. I don't want to bore you with it."

  He could take a hint. Time for a change of subject. "You were my mom's nurse?"

  "Yep, she came in last weekend. She was a real nice lady."

  "What happened?"

  "They didn't tell you?"

  "I know bits and pieces. But, it's complicated."

  "Ah, gotcha. Okay, well, when she came in she was diagnosed with Stage Four Lung Cancer. Unfortunately it was just too advanced. She said she'd been coughing up blood for over a year and a half and hadn't gone to her doctors because she fgured they couldn't do anything for her. I think your cousin found her one day, and made her come in for a checkup. At least, that's what I heard. Don't know if it's true."

  "Tabarnac! What the… what was wrong with her? Why would she… why?" He didn't know how to feel about that. His mom knew she was sick. She knew, and she did nothing? That wasn't his mom. She wasn't like that.

  "I'm sorry, Jonah. I wish I could tell you more, but that's pretty much all I know. She had a slew of tests but I think… it was just too much for her body. She passed peacefully, if it means anything." Matthew reached out, covering one of Jonah's hands with his own.

  "I just… I wish I had known."

  "She left you this. Asked me to give it to you when you came home." He lifted the envelope again.

  "She knew I'd come back?"

  "She told me that it would be a good thing. You coming home. Here. You should read it. I don't know what it says, but she cared enough to write it. Your mom was one of a kind. I'm sorry for your loss."

  Matthew placed the envelope on the bench between them, standing up and brushing off his pants. "Maybe I'll see you around again before you leave."

  "Maybe. Thanks, Matthew. I appreciate it."

  "Anytime. You have a good day."

  Jonah nodded, glancing down at the envelope on the bench. What could it possibly say to explain away the past ten years? He didn't want to know what his mom's last thoughts were. It was all just too much. Sighing, he picked up the envelope, folded it before placing it in his pocket. He'd read it later. He paced to his rental car, climbed inside and started it up. He stopped before putting on his seatbelt, desperately wanting to be anywhere but here.

  He couldn't face Rita-Anne. He knew there was so much he should be doing that he was slacking on. He knew she was bearing the brunt of the funeral arrangements because of the way his father was behaving. He should be helping out; he was her only child. Wasn't that what children did when their parents died? Instead, he was leaning on his cousin, expecting her to take care of everything. What was wrong with him? Making a mental note to talk to her about fnances and what needed to be done, he fnally snapped his seatbelt into place.

  Making his way back to Rita-Anne's, his mind was a mass of confusion. He didn't know how he was supposed to act. Should he be crying, wailing at the injustice of life? Was it okay that he was pissed as hell at his mom? She was dead, he should be remembering her in good thoughts. He shouldn't be mad at her. Right? Wasn't that how things were supposed to be? He would be expected to talk about her as if she was an angel, a good person. What kind of good person ignored their symptoms for over a year? If she'd just gone to the damn doctor she would still be alive. How could he forgive her for that? How was he supposed to walk into a house full of relatives and friends and talk about how wonderful his mom was?

  Right this moment, he was so mad at her he couldn't bear to hear anyone say something good about her. Stopping at a red light he slammed his hand against the steering wheel, screaming through gritted teeth. Why? Why would she do that? What was wrong with her? How could she just give up on life that way?

  It was like he didn't know her at all.

  He pulled up to Rita-Anne's house, wishing for a moment that he could just keep driving. There was a strange car in the drive already. Great, he couldn't even be alone here. Heaving a sigh, he made his way to the back door, opening up to the smell of spaghetti sauce and garlic.

  Toeing off his shoes at the door, he walked sock footed into the kitchen.

  "Mon petit chou-feur, you're home! Quick, go wash up and change your shirt." Rita-Anne didn't even turn from the stove and the big pot she was stirring.

  "How'd you know it was me?"

  "Don't be silly, Jonah. Now, go change."

  He plodded past her, nodding to Debbie and Tom sitting at the table with Henry. "Tom, Debbie."

  "Hey there, Jonah. How's life?" Debbie smiled at him, motioning him to come closer.

  He bent down, accepting her kiss on his cheek. Straightening, he shook Tom's hand again, accepting the can of beer Henry was holding out for him. He avoided Henry's gaze, the man knew him too well not to know if something was wrong.

  "Life is life. Nothing to say about it. You?"

  "I'm sick of all the lousey kids at school."

  Jonah choked on a mouthful of brew, looking in shock at Neil's sister-in-law. "Whoa! Can you say that? Isn't that against some kind of rulebook?" He put his can down on the table.

  "What?"

  "Well, it just doesn't sound right calling them lousy."

  Debbie started to laugh. "No no. Louse-y, not lousy. There's a lice outbreak at the school."

  He shook his head, backing away. "You contagious?"

  "Oh for the love of… I don't have lice!"

  Smiling, feeling his spirits lift, Jonah made his way down the hall and to the sanctuary of his bedroom. Pulling his shirt off, he stopped to touch the edge of the envelope in his jean pocket. He would read it later. There wasn't any rush.

  He stopped, thinking about it. When had he ever been able to wait? This was his mom's last message to him. He should read it. Right away, right? No waiting. What if she had something she needed to tell him? What if she wanted to say how horrible the past ten years had been? What if she wrote down how glad she was that he left home and never came back?

  "Fuck ostie! I can't do this."

  Opening the envelope, he sat down on the edge of the bed, smoothing out the paper. For a moment he just touched the loopy handwriting, the style so familiar. With a shake, he started to read.

  Dearest Jonah,

  I don't know how to start this. I always thought that there was time to talk to you. I put off many phone calls and letters because I didn't know what to say to you before, and I still don't. I love you, I want you to know that. I never blamed you for what happened ten years ago. I blamed myself then, and I still do.

  If I had done things differently, I wonder where we would be now. Would you be married? Would I be a grandmother? Would your father have ended up a different man? What changes would our lives have seen, if things had only been different?

  If I hadn't coddled you, if I hadn't made you help out in the kitchen. Maybe if I had brought you to confession more. What should I have done differently? That question has haunted me for ten years and I still don't have an answer. Your father wanted so much for you, but you were my baby. I thought I was doing the right thing, but things just went so horribly wrong.

  I wish now, as I did then, that I had distracted your father that night. I wish that he had not gone looking for you. I wish for so many things, but mostly I wish that my darling son had not left. I wish I had stood up more, I wish I had reached out to you. Maybe then, you would still be here, and I would not be alone.

  It's a tragic statement to make and I know I shouldn't even utter the words. So I won't. I can only write them here. I don't know if I will even send you this letter. Maybe I will burn it, or flush it down the toilet. I just need to get the words on the page. This is my last confession, the one that I dare not give to Father Peter. I cannot bear for him to know, for I know the truth. I know how upset he would be to know that you have gone against God.

  I don't blame you, I blame myself. As I should. I just wanted to keep you safe, I wanted so much for you. I will never see the man you are
now, I will never see the man you will become, and that hurts me more than hearing I have cancer. I deserve this, I deserve to die like this because of how I failed you.

  My little one, I will always watch over you, the way I should have before. I will not fail you again. I have always prayed for you, to God, and to Jesus and Mary, all the angels and saints. I have prayed that you find your way to God again, that you not give in to the temptations of the flesh. Do not go down that path, for it will only take you further from God. You know the teachings of our Lord, the same as I. I know you did not mean to turn from God, but that is what you did ten years ago. That was your sin, and I can only pray that you do not repeat it. God has made you the way you are. You are beautiful, and a wonderful child of God. You cannot help your orientation, the same way I cannot help the way I was born to love your father. But, the church teaches that you must not give in to your base urgings. It is wrong, and I pray that you follow Christ.