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BOOK FOUR

The airplane landed in the Dallas/Fort Worth International Airport and they were scheduled to fly again in an hour. The next plane would land in McGhee Tyson in Knoxville. It seemed like they'd already waited hours, but nothing changed, no news came, and the sun began to slip away. After eighty minutes the crew announced that the plane was going to be delayed longer than expected. Then again, forty minutes after the first announcement, they called another delay. After three hours of waiting, the problem had yet to be fixed and they realized that they probably weren't flying out tonight.

Sitting next to them was a woman. Oliver gave her an impatient look and Rian sat still and silent and gripping the armrests of his seat. The woman smiled. She was altogether too cheery, considering the circumstances.

"D'you two know each other well?" she asked. Her voice, marked by a Southern drawl, dragged itself over her teeth, slow as sorghum. Well came out more like whale.

"Yes," said Oliver. He turned away.

"Really? Well now, the two of you couldn't possibly be brothers. How d'you know each other?"

He said, "We're friends."

"Wish I had a friend with me. These waits and flights can get so dreadfully borin'."

Oliver glanced at Rian. His stillness wasn't making anything more bearable.

"What's the occasion?" the woman asked. "Headin' to Knoxville then? It's a great town, I always say. Just the best people live there. My own nephew's gettin' married there this weekend, that's a fact. Lovely town, lovely, I always say. Oh, but what did you say you was doin' there?"

"Funeral."

"Terrible shame," the woman didn't miss a beat. "Lovely town though, even for a funeral. Lovely. Just full of the best people. My nephew's gettin' married there -- and I can think of no better place to be married. I was married there m'self, thirty years ago, and can you believe it? I know I don't look half as pretty as I did then..."

The woman droned; Rian gradually loosened, his grip on the armrests lessening. He turned and buried his face in the crook of Oliver's neck. Rian began sobbing quietly. The woman droned and talked and droned as if she did not see him. Perhaps, Oliver thought, she doesn't.

He put an arm around Rian and held him. After crying for a few minutes Rian had calmed down a little. When he lifted his head Oliver could see the veins in his eyes and the tears glinting down his cheeks. His hair was mussed and stuck out in thick shocks. Rian pressed his face against the side of Oliver's own and breathed heavily. The woman droned. Rian locked eyes with Oliver and then kissed his cheek. He bumped his nose all over his face, kissing him again and again and then finally once on the lips.

Oliver was acutely aware of the woman's gaze becoming more and more focused. Her words tapered off once Rian had begun kissing him. She sat slackjawed and gave a peremptory "Well!" then stood up and stalked off.

The plane had been delayed again, until morning this time, and a worker was busy giving directions to nearby lodgings which Oliver politely declined. The terminal slowly emptied, save for a few lost souls milling about in those Elysian fields of night. The lights were left on in that place but it did little to diminish the gloom which crept in and sat at the threshold and ever ready to pounce. Rian stretched out on the empty benches and rested his head in Oliver's lap and before long grief had lulled him to sleep. But try as he might Oliver could not get any rest on that night. He watched Rian, at peace for the first time in days, and watched his side and how it rose and fell in its steady rhythm and wicked the minutes and hours away one by one.

It must have been a dreamless sleep. For aside from that rhythm he saw not a movement more the whole night through.

For the life of me I couldn't tell you why they only seem to care when you're at your worst. It's a phenomenon I've witnessed numerous times in my life and earlier I would have told you that people don't care when you're at your worst; but that was before I'd really hit the bottom. When I used to think things were bad, they were actually pretty good. I had nothing to complain about -- save for general fuckin' discontent, that 21st Century malady.

So where does that discontent come from? We're not gods or heroes. We're just people. Living in the day to day and living for tomorrow. The truth is, tomorrow is that secret place where only the gods or heroes live. But we can never reach it because we're only mortal and as soon as we reach tomorrow it becomes today and the realm of the gods ever eludes our reach. I was never okay with just being a person in the day to day. Few of us are even if we don't realize it.

It's impossible to be anything more. The tragic thing isn't to be discontented. The tragic thing is to try and change your fate. When you accept that you're not cut out for greatness, life becomes a chore. But when that discontent motivates you to do something is when life falls apart. Try to change the future and you won't have one at all.

We all have a choice. To live or to not. And believe what you will but listen when I tell you that there is no glamour in living just as there is no glory in death. It is one and the same to me.

I was stuck in a rut of discontent and no one came to me. When I finally had something to complain about is when people showed up with their condolences. But what did it matter then? They were just moving through the motions in an attempt to be my heroes, my gods. They didn't care about helping me, only about bettering themselves. That's probably it, isn't it? That's why they seem to care when you're at the lowest. But it's all only seeming, and I'm not one for appearances.

My name is Oliver. I was born and raised in beautiful San Diego, California. These days I live in a town called Pinefall. I'm a fox -- that most underwhelming of creatures. I say underwhelming because people expect such good things of you. In all the stories you're the smart one, the trickster, the cunning rogue. Devilishly handsome and seductive and a master of trickery. But that's all bullshit. I'm just a normal guy; once people realize that, they stop caring.

Rian didn't ever stop caring. I don't know what he first saw in me. He's the important part of this story. I may as well be a background character compared to him. Without him nothing would have ever happened. I suppose if he'd never shown up I may have wasted away on my own, and become a forgotten part of history.

He was a skunk. There's something in that. People don't generally like skunks. I don't at all find the scent off-putting, but that's almost certainly because of him.. Still, he'd been shy and had trouble making friends in his life, trouble connecting with other people, and being a skunk hadn't helped. As if his lot wasn't bad enough, he was tormented by demons of his own. Not just one or two, but a number of them, battling it out constantly inside of him. He knew what it felt like to be worthless. Maybe that's why he was drawn to me.

I'm sure you've felt grief before. And if you haven't you will. It comes to all of us. It's a part of life and I should be thankful. Without grief I would never understand just how much those happiest moments meant to me. But I still wish I could get rid of it. I still wish I could forget everything and just... move on.

I guess I can't ever move on even if I try. But the least I can do is pay tribute to that lost time. So. Here's what it is. Here's who I am. Take this and let it be my benediction.

If Rian's anticipation had been palpable the day before, then today he felt nothing. He'd become detached and spoke little; he refused all food and drink except for a little water on the plane. Oliver was not sure what to make of it. The travels went well and they arrived after a few hours of restlessness.

Rian grabbed his hand so hard it hurt. Realizing what he'd done, he loosened his hand, but would not let go.

"Please," he said, "I don't want to let go."

And so he held on. Out the airplane, through the terminal, on through the baggage claim, he clutched Oliver's hand and his arm and stuck close by his side. He looked rather frightened. The bond only broke when they had to carry luggage, and Rian looked pitiful on his own. The skunk's family was supposed to be waiting just outside to pick them up.

"Are you ready?" Oliver asked.

Rian considered it for a moment; he shook his head. No.

"It'll be all right. Come on with me."

"You don't know that."

"Don't know what?"

"That it'll be all right."

"You'll have to try, won't you?"

"I know for a fact it won't be all right."

"Come on with me. Try to be brave."

"It's not going to be all right," Rian said, but he moved forward.

It only took a glance to find Rian's family. One of them, who he took to be Rian's mother, came running over with her arms out. She took Rian and began weeping. He closed his eyes and his arms around her and stroked her back but he looked uncomfortable. The only other family was a girl about Rian's age -- his sister? -- but she didn't say anything. She gave Oliver an "I'm sorry" sort of look.

When the mother had composed herself she stood and sniffed loudly and attempted a smile.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I didn't mean to say hello like that."

Rian said, "It's okay. You've been through a lot." His eyes flicked back over to the fox.

"Um. Mom, Trish, this is Oliver."

"Forgive me," his mother said, "Where are my manners? I'm Mrs. Kent. But you can call me Dana if you prefer."

"How do you do, Mrs. Kent?" said Oliver.

"And I'm Trish," Rian's sister said. She shook his hand.

"Hello, Trish. How do you do?"

Nobody asked how he and Rian knew each other. And nobody seemed interested in finding out. The silence said enough.

"Now, Dana, I told you. Don't worry about dinner. I'll handle it."

Rian's aunt Stacy was trying her damndest to create order in the chaos of the Kent household. Ever since he'd arrived Oliver had been meeting new faces. Stacy first, and then her husband Joseph. Much to his surprise, Stacy had gone and married a tiger. Skunk and a tiger -- unusual to say the least. Oliver was a little surprised the family didn't have anything to say about that relationship. They were incapable of having children together, but judging by the number of anonymous children running around the house, the rest of the family's couples were not bound by the same biological incompatibility. Rian himself had two younger brothers (James and Mark). The house was packed, and small children ran freely underfoot, screaming and being quite unaware of the circumstances of the family gathering. It was a bit much.

Oliver was surprised to find that everyone in the family knew about Rian. No one blatantly attacked him for it but it hung about the household like black smoke. Unease ran thicker than blood. Some of the more extended members of the family were a bit standoffish. But there was little persecution further than silence and nervous looks.

The two of them sat in the corner while the family rushed around.

"It's bad, the way they treat him." Oliver said, "But it's not as bad as you made it sound."

"Dad was always the worst about it," Trish said. She'd appeared in front of them. "Sure, a lot of these folks are upset, but none so much as Dad ever was."

"And you?" Oliver asked.

"Me?" Trish bent down and rubbed the top of Rian's head. He looked sullen. "I just want my little brother to be happy. If you're what makes him happy, then you're all right by me. Just... Don't be like the last guy."

"I wouldn't ever be like him," Oliver said. But he knew he was capable. Images of Ashleigh sprang unbidden to his mind.

"Well, Rian? Are you okay?" Trish asked. She stooped down and looked him in the eye.

"I -- I don't know." It was the first thing he'd said in an hour.

"Can I do anything for you?"

"I don't think so." He shut his eyes.

"Okay. I'm really sorry. Dinner will be ready soon. You'll eat some, won't you?"

"Do I have to?"

"I'd really like you to," Trish smiled.

"I guess."

"Okay. I'll let you two alone for a little while." She stood and joined the rest of the family in preparing for dinner.

"Are you okay?" Oliver asked.

"No. I'm really not," he exhaled loudly through his nose. "But I will be, regardless of what I feel right now."

"All right. Should I leave you alone for a while?"

"What? God, no!" Rian showed genuine emotion for the first time that day. His eyes filled with panic and he pulled the fox close against him. "Stay with me. Please."

When the dinner finally came they had to push tables together to fit everyone. It took a full five minutes to get all of the children to calm down and all of the small talk to cease. Mrs. Kent stood and waited while the noise died.

"Does anybody want to say grace?" she asked. There was a protracted silence while she looked up and down the table for volunteers. "Anybody?"

"I'll do it," said Rian. The air tightened around everyone. From the other side of the table somebody gasped.

Mrs. Kent wrung her hands and looked around, not wanting to ask the question everyone knew was on her lips: Anybody else? But Rian bowed his head and closed his eyes and, grudgingly, so did the others. Many of them kept an eye open and trained on him.

"Our Father in Heaven," began Rian, "Thank you. Thank you for gathering us all here together. Even under these tragic circumstances, we thank you for the opportunity to spend time with one another. Strengthening each other. We ask for your hand to guide us during these hard times and we pray you shine your mercy on the life you have taken. Though we do not always understand, we know that you have a plan for us, and that all shall work for the good. We humbly ask your blessing upon the meal we are about to receive, and ask that you bless the hands that prepared it. We thank you for this day, knowing that our days are numbered, and that it is only by your blessing we wake each day. Be with us all, and keep us safe in you.

"In your name we ask these things of you. Amen."

The silence that settled afterwards was deep enough to be drowned in. Finally, the man sitting directly opposite Oliver sprang up. Venom dripped from his jaws. Oliver did not recognize him.

"Am I the only one going to question this?"

All eyes fixed on him.

"Only me?"

"Robert, please!" Mrs. Kent said, reaching to stop him.

"Don't give me that," he slapped her hand away. "This is an outrage."

"Rob..."

"You all just sit here and take this. This is an affront to everything I believe. To everything we all believe. You just sit and let him pray and make a mockery of us all. And with his damn sex-toy sitting right next to him!"

"Robert!" Mrs. Kent was standing now, openly crying. Her fur bristled around her.

"Oh no, I won't take this sitting down. You can't possibly think I'm the one acting up here."

Without saying a word, Rian rose from his chair and disappeared from the room. Oliver saw him shaking as he walked away.

"Look what you did!" Mrs. Kent said.

"Good. At least one of 'em's gone."

Oliver seethed with rage. Was this how they treated family? He glared at the man, unable to convey his disgust. He hoped it was apparent in the look on his face. It took an effort not to lash out -- physically or verbally, he wasn't sure how it would manifest. But he restrained himself. He didn't want to sink to that man's level.

He found Rian upstairs, in his bed, sobbing again. The fox didn't know what to say. He crawled into bed next to him and held him and let him cry. Rian sagged against Oliver, spent with exhaustion, stress, and sorrow, seeking shelter in his embrace. He kissed Oliver fervently.

"You're the only one," he said.

"That isn't true," Oliver replied.

"It is true. The only one. Nobody else cares."

"Just because someone says something doesn't mean --"

Rian shut him up with his kiss.

"Oh, don't," he said. "Don't try to be that way, please. We both know it isn't true. None of them care."

Trish stood in the doorway and knocked on the frame three times. Oliver and Rian both looked up, embarrassment plain on their faces.

"I didn't mean to interrupt," she said.

"No, no. Please come in," Rian said.

She entered and sat down on the bed next to the two of them.

"I just... I wanted to apologize," she said. "For all of that. It was completely uncalled for."

"I'll say," Oliver snorted. She gave him a sad look.

"No, really, Oliver. We're not like this. We're not... We wouldn't be rude like that. I wish that the others were a little more accepting, but at least they'll never act like that. That's just Rob, Dad's brother, and he's a little tender right now."

"You just let him get away with it?"

"We're... We're talking to him."

"Thanks for the reassurance," said Rian, "But it doesn't help. I don't know why I'm here."

"Here, as in, here with the family?"

"Sure. Let's go with that."

"You deserve to be here just as much as any of us. He was Rob's brother, but he was your father too."

"He never acted like it. You were there when he found out. You remember. He didn't want me in the house anymore. Why would he want me here now?"

"Because he loved you. He didn't mean anything he said."

"Do you want to know what the last thing he said to me was? He looked me right in the eye and said he hated me. He said I was a disgrace and that he hated me and that he hoped he'd never see me again. And I told him I didn't want to see him again either," Rian took off his glasses and buried his face in the mattress. "What kind of son says that? Who wants that to be their father's last memory of them?"

Trish stroked his hair and searched for the words to say. But they never came.

"We all say things we don't mean," she said, finally. It was trite but it would have to do. "Sometimes even to the people we love."

"What does that mean?"

"It means he loved you. Even if he couldn't admit it to himself."

They sat and waited and let Rian's sorrow run its course. It got to be that he passed out, but it hadn't let go of him yet. It never would.

They'd been deliberately given separate rooms, but during nights Rian sneaked out and into Oliver's room and slept curled by his side. He'd had to wake up early to sneak back into his own room before sunrise. That morning, he'd stayed in the room and they'd helped each other dress. While taking out his clothes, Oliver had found the small box he'd been hiding. He quickly hid it again, before Rian could see it. It would be no good, Rian seeing the ring here, like this. He really shouldn't have brought it along. There wouldn't be a proper time to propose to the skunk until they got home. Got away from all this death and darkness. Sorrow hung in the house like a black cloud.

He smuggled the ring box into a side pocket of his suitcase before Rian could turn around.

"There's always someone like Uncle Rob," Rian explained, pulling taut his bowtie. "First it was Dad. But now that he's gone, Uncle Rob has taken his place. When he's gone it'll be someone else."

Oliver preferred to think that wasn't true and made his thoughts known. But Rian only shook his head.

The day of the funeral had arrived. It was a rare occasion that Oliver dressed formally and the clothes felt alien. At least he looked okay. He thought he might have been able to do a little better. Rian looked tolerably handsome, but Oliver had seen him in formal attire quite often. But beauty never went unnoticed. He appreciated it for what it was.

Rian kissed Oliver on the cheek.

"You look great," he admitted. "Sorry I had to drag you along through all this."

"You think I would've let you come on your own?"

"No. But I'm not sure I would have made it this long without you."

"You would have."

"I don't know. But listen. Really. Thank you. You've made everything tremendously easier for me. Not just now but always. Since I've known you. It's been a cruel life but a little better with you."

"It'll always be a cruel life. But I won't leave you. I'll help you."

"You've already done everything you could do," Rian's smile was weak. "But thanks for trying. I really did love you."

"Did?"

"I'm sorry. I reallydo love you. It just all feels so hopeless sometimes."

"It'll be all right. I love you too."

"You don't really believe in God, do you?"

They stood outside the church. The snow was no longer falling but it crunched underfoot. It was cold. Rian stuck his hands into his pockets.

"Do you not?" Rian asked.

Oliver shrugged.

"I don't know."

"I do."

Oliver looked at the trees. They were barren. The deciduous branches empty. A few evergreens preened their

plumage in the wind. Needles rustled to the ground.

"It's not the hardest thing for me to believe in. But if God is real I can't fathom why he'd do any of this."

"I don't think that's for us to understand."

Oliver sighed. He said,

"I'm sorry."

"No. Don't be."

"Come here."

"I'll be fine, I promise."

"Come here. It'll be okay."

"He didn't deserve to die either way."

"It was just his time."

"How does God determine a time?"

"Assuming he does?"

"Of course he does."

"You're asking the wrong guy. Hey now, don't. It's going to be okay."

"I'm sorry. The worst of it's over, I guess. He gave me the hardest time."

"You're right. That's over, at least."

"I think I could've put up with it."

"I know you could."

"They don't approve. I mean... They don't think it's possible."

"Don't think what's possible?"

"That someone like me could be a Christian."

"People have a hard time accepting things."

Rian sat down in the snow. He tightened his scarf, and said,

"It was pretty bad for a while. They didn't know at first. I'm sure they guessed. They always do, but they're too afraid of the truth to accept it until they hear it. Even then they don't always. But I never told them. I was a coward.

"Anyways I got involved in some stuff I shouldn't have. After I graduated they took me in. I was blowing all my money on booze. Like I said, it was pretty bad for a while. You've seen me pretty low before, but it got worse. I was like that all the time. But they're religious. It would be un-Christian of them to deny me aid when I needed it, even disappointed as they were. They wanted to help me stop drinking. They wanted to be good examples and good parents and good Christians. So they helped me.

"And it was okay. I managed to stop drinking -- you know, for a little while. I cut it back significantly. And don't get me wrong, I lapsed. Lapsed since then, too. They really did help me. But let me tell you a thing about hypocrisy. This is what really got me. They were just dying to help me out at first. Good Christian family helping out their alcoholic son like they should. The minute they found out I was gay, the aid stopped.

"It was like their son had died. In a way I guess I did. And to them, I'm probably going to Hell, so it's even worse. What I can't wrap my head around is their reaction. They were willing to forgive one vice and to help me fight it. But as soon as I'm gay they throw me out. Just like that. I'm a lost cause or something.

"I want to say that that didn't really happen but it did. They weren't willing to help me because I was a homosexual. That's just about the saddest thing that's ever happened to me. I don't think my mom wanted to throw me out but my dad insisted. I've never seen anyone as angry as he was. And now..."

Rian's head sunk into his hands. Oliver waited for him to regain his composure. The skunk drew his knees up to his chest and locked his arms around them. His chin rested on their tops. His tail limp beside him. He stared into the snow.

"What does that say about them? That's how most of the Christian community acts, you know."

"I don't understand," said Oliver.

"Neither do I."

"Isn't homosexuality just as grave a sin as alcoholism? I mean, what's the difference?"

"You're right on the money. Doctrinally speaking, there are no degrees to sin."

"So you're saying --"

"One sin is as bad as another. Sure, some may seem worse than another. Practically speaking, murdering someone's worse than being vain. But at the base level any imperfection is worthy of the same amount of punishment. So there's fundamentally no difference between alcoholism and homosexuality. And yet."

"I see."

Rian drew a long shuddering breath. Then he continued.

"I don't know why. Why it's homosexuality that got singled out. But for whatever reason, it did. It's 'The Big One.' It's the one that most Christians aren't willing to overlook. And it's true. What happened to me is happening to others. There are plenty of Christians out there who'd be willing to take in a child struggling with drug addictions, or self-harm issues, or... Well, even other sex problems. But homosexuality is the taboo. Most of those families would turn their back on a gay son.

"I don't know what the issue with homosexuality is. It's a damn sight less harmful than any other sin I can think of. If I can say one thing, the attitude the church takes towards the issue is about as far from Christ-like as possible. And that's the whole point of it all, isn't it? To be like Christ?"

"Rian. I'm sorry."

Oliver sat down in the snow next to him. He hesitantly reached out his arm. Then he stopped, patted Rian's shoulder, and withdrew the appendage. Oliver said,

"I wish I knew how to help. But I can't."

"You begin to understand my problem."

"There's a lot of good within the church. I've seen it. But I don't know what to do about that."

"And I can't just ignore it. I'm trying to be a part of a community that doesn't want me. And that's not going to do anything but drive me away in the end."

"You're just about the nicest person I've ever met. And you've a great deal of restraint. Especially these days. If anyone's really succeeding, it's you."

"Succeeding at what? Living a Christ-like life? No," Rian gave a sad, tired smile. "I'm far from that. It's almost shameful to hear you say it."

"You'll get there. If not today, eventually. You seem a better sort than most."

"So what? You're just buying it, all like that?"

"Buying it?" Oliver shook his head. "No. I'm pretty agnostic about this sort of thing. But... I'm open to ideas. Always have been. There's gotta be something out there, right?"

Rian drew himself a little further inward.

"There's gotta be something," he whispered.

It happened too quickly for any of us to stop it. We hadn't sensed it coming. He'd been pretty distant the past week and he'd always been struggling. Struggling with himself, struggling with the drink, struggling with God. And now he was struggling with family. I think by that point in his life it had all built up to be too much. But I'm not sure. I can barely remember that day.

There really wasn't much to it. After our conversation, he was silent all through the funeral. He didn't say a word on the ride home. Then he kissed me and said that he loved me and that he was sorry and he went upstairs. He went into his room, locked the door, and shot himself in the head.