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Stories such as these don't have a happy ending. Sometimes you are left with regret and sail away with a heavy weight on top of you like it's going to crush you if there's no sense of control. That is how it ended with Michael and me. My name is Galvin and I'm a 28 year old, spoiled coyote without real problems to complain about, not anymore. I know that sounds boring, but hear me out. Recall that I mentioned this story doesn't have a happy ending and I should reveal right now that it starts with a nasty break up.

Michael is a wolf, black fur with these cold gray eyes I fell for. When I met him he had a biker look to him and like any dumb bimbo I thought him cool like that. He never owned a bike. He had a beat down truck and before I had my first job at 23 he it was the best way to get around. He offered to drive me. It didn't occur to me that some alpha male like him would be gay. As it turns out, so am I. Being in a truck between a lake and a tobacco farm screams 'psycho moment time', but for some reason I didn't run. I remember he scanned me with his pale gray eyes, leaning over with his breath still heavy from onion rings and burgers we got at the fast food joint 'Burger Shack', before it got big in the south. I still remember the smell. He emitted a scent I found exciting, but he didn't know how to flirt. I was too stupid to know not to be left alone with a deviant like him, but there I was.

"Are you queer," Michael said. Sadly that is the extent of his ability to have a little tact.

"No, I'm straight, Mike." I said that with a bit of force to show how macho I was and that I wasn't afraid as he leaned in, sniffing my desperation, drinking it like I was chicken drenched in sauce. He gripped my arms hard before I could reach the handle and bolt to my parent's house. He bears his teeth. I close my eyes, and before I know it he is licking at my neck. Somehow, he knew I had something for guys. I never told him it was for guys like him. He scared me, but in many ways excited me. I thought, there he was licking me, kissing me and then sucks me off.

"Don't ever lie like that again," he said with the blade of his claws gripping my jaw.

That was five years ago. I moved up north to the peaks of commerce on the sixtieth floor. The city is always exciting. It's a mixed bag of sweat, musk, and cigarette smoke in on this particular floor of the Trance & Bellmon Trade building. The guy next to me smells of vomit and scotch. I don't drink on the job. I remember my first drink when I use to in the town of Cadbury. Though I upgraded from bottled beer to scotch and rocks I save it for the after party when I go on the prowl looking for the next dick looking for a place to belong. I think of the last guy I had been with the night before as I tighten my focus on the latest merger I just helped complete. The third quarter usually is the most stressful. After the year ends I hope I can finally take my sail boat out on the great lakes. It's time to take some alone time, but the call that comes in has other plans.

"Mr. Coyolli, there is a call on line four. Personal call, he says."

It can't be a personal call. My parents don't talk to me anymore since I came out some years ago and disowned me. None of my gay cohorts would be stupid enough to call me here. It must be an emergency.

"Hello," I say, pushing the line and leaning back in my chair. I sulk while looking up at the tiles of my office thinking there must be a damn good explanation for Jim or Berry to be calling me here.

"Hello, is this Galvin?"

"Yeah, what do you want? Make it quick, Jim."

"It's Ashton. Remember me?"

It isn't Ash from Mobile. We had only fucked in the bathroom of the Belladonna hotel a year ago. It's the only Ash I know, but then it hits me. The summer of 2016 I went down to Ohio for a retreat with colleagues. I was on my way to get a bucket of ice from down the hall and a familiar face from Georgia stopped me and we got to talking. I remember I gave him my card.

"Ashton Zuccermon? The fox from Water-Crest High?! You wait all this time to call me?"

"Yeah. It's me. I figured I should call you with the number you wrote down on your card, but it's no longer in service. Galvin, it's been a long time, but I wish I was calling on better terms..."

"Yeah? What's up?"

"Arthur has died."

My heart sinks. Arthur was my old drummer in our punk rock banks called Morning Kickstand. It doesn't register completely, but I'm stuck somewhere between dumbfounded and upset. The last time I heard from Arthur was when he tried getting back in touch with me after my break-up with Michael. I visited him in the hospital after Michael beat the crap out of him and broke his jaw. Arthur was a rabbit with a small frame, but had big heart. He was a damn good drummer, I thought.

"Galvin? Are you there?"

"Sorry, this is sudden. What happened?"

"Brain aneurism. Decker and Charlize found him in his apartment after they came around looking. Look, I know you're busy..."

"No, thank you for calling. I'm glad you did. I haven't talked to him in a while, but always wondered what happened to him."

"Yeah," Ashton continues, "After the school closed, he ran a string of bad luck and he wasn't...Never mind. I was wondering if you might come down for the funeral. It's this weekend."

I pause to manage some words, saying, "Yeah, I can come down. I have a week off, as it happens. I'll be down tomorrow. Sound good?"

"I still live in the townhouse on Main Street. Drop by if you can."

The line goes silent and I place the phone on its hook. I sigh as I realize my next week plans are now shot to shit. I didn't want to go back to the old stomping grounds, but Arthur was a damn good kid. I didn't get to know him as an adult. I owe it to him to him for being there for me, putting up with Michael when we all hung out and standing up for me when my parents threw me out. I schedule a flight down under first class. I need the leg room and rest if I am to see all the old face. Perhaps I can avoid Michael, if at all possible. Maybe he's in prison, I hope.

The soonest flight down to Georgia is in two hours and I take it. On my salary I can afford it. It's only for the weekend and I will leave after the funeral before anyone knows I'm in town. After work I don't waste time going back to my apartment downtown. I keep a tooth brush, fur trimmer and gym bag with clothes under my desk in case I have to go golfing with the boss at a spur of the moment. I hate golf. Waiting to board onto the flight is just as bad as the verbal exchanges one hears in the locker room or on the golf green. There is the endless bickering of family bullshit. Endless conversations about the friend who married their hair dresser or the daughter's boyfriend who broke up with her for a babysitter is like litter in the air and all I want is a hard drink.

The flight gives me time to easy up before I am ready to throw my phone at squabbling cubs. The first class is quiet and I'm grateful. I'm even more thankful when the flight attendant offers me a drink. I order scotch with rocks and ask to keep them coming. I doze off for five minutes, but I keep my seat at the upright position. There is no point in getting sleep until I find a hotel to stay at just out of Cadbury. It shows how much I don't want anyone to know I'm in town. The place is too small and one word from the receptionist at the only motel might as well be sounding an alarm that the queer they ran out of town is back, coming to corrupt the youth with Big Gay's agenda. I had family, but I hadn't talked to them in years.

Landing in the late day I don't know what time it is, but the sun is still up where it would be dark up north. I wanted to keep it low key and rent a late Audi A6 model. It doesn't occur to me until I'm in the car starting the ignition that it will stick out like a sore thumb in such a small town and I realize I'm thinking with quaint expression I never use anymore. I feel genuinely depressed realizing this. It's already started. Being back home and the smelling alligator shit in the air while driving down the interstate is making me regress to my redneck roots and a craving for fried chicken and grits. I'm only going to be in town for a weekend, I remind myself. There won't be that much damage to cause with a quick visit and hasty leave. I'm better now than from what I came from.

The Marlo and Key is a resort. Think of it as a country club, but no one is rich enough to afford a membership in the area. Due to lacking members, the owners made it a get-away vacation location. It was smart on their end and hired a number of part-time help that are on call when folks from the city or a business trip and occasional convention comes up. They do cut corners as the parking lot is in disarray and need of repair. It must be a slow weekend as the help working here usually run a car valet out of the front entrance. While not a big deal, what is a bother to me is the one sided texts I send to Ashton telling him I am just outside of town. In the foyer I send him another text while being greeted by a concierge who takes my bags and escorts me to my room. Upon entering I hand him a tip and he leaves. I am reminded that it is the countryside as I spot a rotary phone on the marble table and mirror. Not everyone texts.

"Hello?"

"Yeah, this is Galvin. Ashton?"

Ashton clears his throat, holding the phone too close to his face. I can hear his fur rubbing against the microphone of his mobile phone and someone is whispering on the other end.

"Ashton? Did I call at a bad time?"

Ashton says, "No. I was just going over the funeral arrangements. I'm the Attorney for most of the residents here and making sure he's getting the right send off according to his wishes. You know?"

"Oh? I knew you were going to college for it. Did you just pass the bar?"

"Yeah," says Ashton. "I'm working from home right now, but when you come in we can meet up for a drink."

I says, "That sounds like a plan. What are you doing tonight?"

There is a pause, but Ashton is quick in the head. He says, "You're here already?"

"Yes," I say. "I'm sitting in my room right now."

I am laying in bed, but sit up in saying my last remark. There is a pause on the other end. There is more whispering that my coyote ears can't place with subject or process who it is, but the word "plan" is said twice.

Ashton clears his throat again and says, "You're at the Marlo and Key, are you?"

I say, "How did you know?"

"The sound of the echo. You must be in one of the business suites. I took the family there some months ago. The walls are thin."

"Yeah, just noticed that," I say, hearing footsteps down the hall toward the elevator.

"So, you want to meet up? I'm available. I can meet you and anyone brought with you in a half hour."

"I came alone."

"You want to meet up with Sean?"

"Sure, but keep it small. I just got in. I don't need so much attention."

"Okay. Meet you at Gideon's...Glad you could make it down."

Ashton hangs up and I realize that I am about to run into at least four people whom I know. Gideon is a badger who now runs his parent's diner. The last I heard he married his high school sweetheart. With Ashton that's three of us, but with Sean that's another one. I'm not sure if he hooked up with anyone since I was gone, but it doesn't matter. The cat's out of the bag, as they say. That's another old expression, I've used. I realize I have to leave as soon as the funeral is over. I can't be here anymore.

I don't have to change. I'm wearing the same suit from earlier and while I have another pressed shirt in my bag I want to keep tidy for the funeral. I remove my tie and use some of the musk cover supplied from the resort. It's ok for something found at a country bumpkin get-away.

I head to my rental car and take my time before starting it. Thinking of Gideon is like reviewing an old report card. You have a bunch of A+ remarks, but there is that one C- you got for fucking up the last exam. In this case, I had unresolved discomforts when I belted him across jaw for outing me to my family. Because of that, I hadn't spoken to my father or mother in some time. I realize now that he did me a favour. I'm stronger now and I can take care of myself with no thanks to two cultish, religion fanatical sacks of shit. I huff thinking about them, but I can't hold it against Gideon anymore. And then, I turn the key.

Gideon's place is decorated in neon lights. It must take up half the electric bill. For a diner it has some really good food. I see the smoke house beside the establishment. The hole in the wall place has some amazing bbq aside from the usual lasagna and sandwiches that are good. Anyone who knows Gideon know enough that the meat selection is the primary focus of the locals. The apple pie is a sin and I can smell it as I hit the turner signal and turn into the parking lot. My eyes hit a chubby fox. It must be Ashton, but he had always been half my size and scrawny. Next to him is a Badger who is a little thinner than Gidgeon I knew, but the pink birth mark on his nose is a give-away. It's him. The next one over is Sean, who is same as he always was with a little belly, but a little more lean around the shoulders. He has more fuzz under his chin, but to the eye he hasn't aged in five years.

"Woah, check out that new car," says Sean, nodding in approval.

I say, "You should see my Porsche. I couldn't bring it down."

I park my car and shut off the lights. Getting out of the car I realize how overdressed I am. Gideon is wearing an apron, but he has a bow tie on. I think his father must have pressed he wear it as three generations before him had done. Ashton is in a dress shirt and trousers and Sean is wearing a plaid shirt with khakis. I came over dressed.

"Look at you, Galvin. Nice ride, in a suit and looking sharp. I figured you lose your fur around your neck like your father has."

"Thanks, Gideon. It's good seeing you too. Shall we go in or will there be anyone else joining us?"

They all look worried, like they hear a train while standing in the middle of a railroad. Gideon motions us all to go in and my question is left lingering. The old diner hasn't changed with the exception of the menu. It's a new laminated print, but it has all the old favourites.

"Do you know what you're ordering, Galvin?"

"You're not sitting with us, Gideon?"

"I will, but someone's got to run the kitchen. The help only tend to the smokers. Also, no one is coming in tonight to eat in for the rest of the night. I made it strictly pre-order just this once and a private party of five."

I say, "Five?"

"Four," Gideon says, "Sorry. I'll be out in a little bit, but what will you be having?"

I don't need to look down at the menu. "I'll have the rack of ribs, side of lollypop, house gumbo and the apple pie."

"Okay," Gideon says. Everyone else has ordered. So, I'll be back in five. Then, we can all talk."

Gideon waddled away and I turn my attention to everyone, whose eyes are all on me. "How much is that suit," asks Sean.

"Sean," Ashton says with a stern stare. "I'm just asking. It's nice. Honest."

"Thanks," I say. That is all I can say. We all sit waiting for Gideon to come back and when he does he is the first to talk after the long silence.

"So, what did I miss?"

Ashton says, "Nothing. We were waiting for you before we catch up."

Gideon flops down on his seat and his eyes turn to me saying, "Well, come on now. Tell us what you've been doing up there?"

"I'm in investments. It's pretty boring really. Pays good, obviously, but I'm looking to take some time off."

Sean nods and says, "I run the general store now in Bedfast. Aside from me you moved the furthest away from this hick town. Lucky."

"So," I say, rubbing my paw together. "Anyone have cubs?"

Sean points his finger to Ashton, "Ash hooked up with Michelle."

"Michelle Phox?"

"Michelle Lefette," says Ashton.

Gideon shifts his arms from folding them to putting them behind his head. One eye is on me as he say, "She gained weight."

Sean says, "She was pushing 250 when Ash got to her. Now after three cubs she kind of let go."

Ashton glares at Sean and I can imagine him reaching over across the table to strangle the squealer.

"At least I'm not a virgin still," says Ashton.

Sean smirks and says, "Tell him about your balls, Ashton."

Gideon laughs and says, "Yeah, tell Galvin what happened to your balls."

"Damn you guys," says Ashton. He looks at me. "I got a vasectomy. I didn't want to be my father who has kids from her all the way up to Clairmont, Mass. Three is enough."

"Dude has now balls now. They're just for show."

I shake my head, not finding it funny in the slightest. Plenty of guys in the office get clipped, but Ashton must have left town to get it done. I'm glad I don't date females

I say, "I don't have to worry about that with guys. If I do want to have kids I'll just get a surrogate to carry my seed."

"Dude," says Sean. "You get to sleep with her?"

"No," I say. "I shoot in a cup and they use a pipette to get her pregnant."

"Dude, just sleep with her. A guy with your genes? You're the only coyote in 500 miles with blue eyes. I use to think you and Ash here were brothers."

Ashton's elbow falls off the table and turns his head to Sean while screaming, "What?!"

"Dude, your dad was a slut. No offense."

Ashton's eyes narrow, "No offense?"

"Guys," says Gideon with his eyes pleading, "Please?"

"No offense?"

Here it comes. Ashton's fur on the back of his neck is spiking. Sean knew just what to say without knowing what he did is wrong.

"No offense, but you're a dumb hog. Seriously, you haven't changed a bit."

Sean shrugs, pretending there isn't a care in the world. Ashton folds his arm and leans back in his chair. He is fuming, but is keeping his cool.

I try to change the subject and say, "So, Gideon? How is Patty?"

They all beam at me. Sean is biting his lip and I don't need another clue that I stepped in a pile of shit that might as well be tall as a house. Gideon is scratching his head, not too flustered as the other must have expected this question as he sags in his chair.

"Patty left me. She took the cub and is living with her parents up north."

I say, "I'm sorry."

"Eh. She said I don't do enough around the house. I'm always working. I pay for her college and then as soon as she has her degree as a nurse she moves out. I get a visit from the cub in the summer time. Maybe when he's old enough he can help out around here. It's really a busy place for the summer season. I miss them, but I can always have the folks and company of patrons to the establishment."

"Well, I'm glad you're ok. It's good to hear you're still in business and you are taking care of the place. It wouldn't be the same without Gideon the third. There would be no reason coming back to this town."

Gideon smiles and stands up, "I'm going to grab some beers for all of us. On the house."

With that, Gideon leaves. Sean is a little more quiet, but fidgets like he wants to ask more of me. Ashton's eyes scan the diner and eventually make their way over to me again.

"So, you're doing well for yourself. It's good to hear. After I finished college I joined a firm, ran into you out in Ohio and I came back here to take care of the wife. She doesn't do much, but she's a dedicated mother to the cubs."

"Good to hear."

Sean opens his mouth, "I saw Michael."

I say, "And what is that asshole doing these days?"

Sean looks at Ashton and for some reason look into the kitchen where Gideon makes a noise and pops up at the doorway. His eyes rest on me while patting his feet on the linoleum tile. Sean takes a breath and studies Ashton's glare at him, whose eyes are wide with his paws folded. Ashton is reserved to a poker face that I can't decipher. Sean, on the other hand, is quick to turn his head to me.

I say, "Is he in prison? On the loose? What?"

"He's got a job somewhere," says Sean. "I heard he really mellowed out."

"You hear that in Bedfast?"

Ashton says, "Forget him for now. He's not important. Perhaps we should go over the funeral arrangements?"

I say, "Okay. What are the plans for Sunday?"

Ashton puts the flats of his paws on the table and blows air from his cheeks, his fur rippling.

"Well," he says, "His family left him a spot of land in the cemetery. As you know his mother is long dead. His father never came back to take care of the kid. He moved in with a friend in his late days and was being taken care of until the cancer took him. He's being buried with his mom, younger brother and grandparents."

I remember Arthur well. He was such a good bunny. He was smart, but he didn't have much money. While his family was poor they always put the care of family forward before taking care of their house. Eventually, the town took that away from them after Arthur's father disappeared to escape debt. He was a shit father like mine who didn't give a crap about their cubs. I figured if I ever have cubs I would I'd be there. Poor Arthur deserved the most out of all our friends. He always smiled. I could see his buck teeth and floppy ears in my mind. He had big black eyes, salt and pepper fur with a small frame. He was always picked on for his size.

"I thought you said it was a brain aneurysm?"

Sean says, "Yeah. That was the result of his cancer. The cancer moved pretty quick from what I know. I heard it was only three month from the time he found out to when...Uh."

Ashton says, "He didn't suffer. He had someone that took care of him and made sure his remaining days were the best anyone could give."

"Who took care of him? His father come back?"

Sean says, "No. And if that prick comes by I'm going to pull his ears off his head and shove them up his ass."

"Damn right," says Gideon, trudging out from the kitchen with a bucket of beers. "Alright, the food is going to be ready in a ten minutes. It's going to come out of the oven. The gumbo is ready. So, I'll bring that out soon. And I got to say it's good to see you guys again."

"Even me," says Sean.

"Yeah, even you, Sean. Just don't get any bbq sauce on my floor this time."

With that, Gideon rubs the fuzz on the top of Sean's head. His pink flesh turns a little red and his ears straighten from their once floppy state. I take my first gulp of beer and it's the first time in four years I taste some. I'm already a little relaxed from the seven glasses of scotch, but I insist to buy Gideon and the others another round before he trudges back into the back to grab our bowls of gumbo. Gideon comes back with everyone's food. He has to take two trips. I gesture my paw that I'll assist, but he presses his paw against me and insists I stay out of the back.

"It's ok. I want you guys to have this experience. Sit down, relax. I do this every night on my own.

I sit back down and take the first sip from the spoon of gumbo. It's as good as I remember. I feel like howling. Then, the rest of my food comes out and Gideon sits down with us. Sean has a Caesar salad, gumbo, and a rack of ribs. Ashton picks at his jambalaya, but focuses on his bbq whole chicken. The food is so good. And, I compliment Gideon.

"It's an experience, Gideon. Just as you said."

He say, "Damn right."

"I should compliment whoever is back there. Is it one of your brothers?"

"No, just a friend of the family. We have been meaning to expand, something my parents never did, but after the wife left I was thinking of bringing my bbq up north."

"They'd love it up there," I say.

Sean makes me laugh as he has bbq sauce all over his mouth it looks like he has gone feral. Ashton sees this too and bursts out laughing, followed by Gideon. Sean's ears flap as he chuckles, realizing how ridiculous he looks.

After a big meal and joke were aside, Gideon brings out the pie. While stuffed, I feel a few bites wouldn't hurt. I can't finish. The pie is like a destructive force that sets me into a near food comma. Gideon smirks, proud of his work as he studies Ashton's glazed over look and Sean downing the last of his. I slide over my plate after I eat half and Sean happily polishes off the plate.

I say, "That was amazing, Gideon. Don't ever change anything."

Tossing my share of cash and leaving a big tip I begin to stand up and Ashton puts his arm around me. He pushes me toward the front door and offers a smoke. I shake my head and I see Sean helping Gideon with the plates into the back. The first wave of cigar smoke blinds me and obstructs the first breath of fresh air.

"Ashton, when did you start smoking?"

"I don't smoke that often," says Ashton. "It's just a cigar. I have one once very blue moon."

I say, "Well, don't make it a habit. Cancer kills."

"I've been thinking of Arthur, how he never told us he was dying. He didn't reach out to you, did he?"

"No," say. "I haven't spoken to him in years."

It's something I regret. Arthur never spoke up when the big kids beat him up or stole his lunch money. Whenever I saw him in elementary school I stood up for him. I'd punch Alex in the gut and throw his weasel friend, Oscar, into a trash bin. Whatever was taken, money or toys he had taken from Arthur, I'd make sure he got them back. Then there was Michael, my ex and first fuck-buddy who beat him up pretty bad when we were in the band. It was the last straw I would deal with Michael's shit attitude and destructive verbal abuse that was worse than getting punched by him. He was the meanest one out of everyone in the school. Arthur was a grade under us and Michael was a year older than me, but he reminded Arthur every time he flashed a good test score around the lunch room Michael would make him pay for it.

"Hey," I say, "Remember the band we were in?"

Ashton smiles as he huffs. He looks down at the pavement and scratches his head for a moment before saying, "Morning Kickstand."

"That's right. We never got a gig. You, me, Arthur and Michael. Shame that asshole isn't here right now. I'd give him a mouthful. You know, I was just thinking right now how bad he beat up Arthur. It was over a fucking soda can. A soda can and Arthur got beat to crap for not giving it to him. I can't believe I dated him."

"You know, I always figured he forced himself on you?"

"He did. I was young and that isn't the way one's first time is suppose to experience it. I was dumb and let him do what he wanted. Hell, I even liked his over-protectiveness. But, I grew up. I realize I never really needed him. Being the only two gay guys in Cadbury you take what you get. I feel ashamed with myself for letting him push you guys around."

"We were kids, Galvin."

"I know," I say, "I know I should have done something about it. I'm sorry."

"No," says Arthur. "I mean I should have stood up for myself, same with Gideon and Arthur and Sean. We were kids. We didn't know how to defend ourselves. You did and I think that's why Michael never crossed you."

"He was so abusive, though. He beat the crap out of all of you and all I did was tell him to stop. I never laid it on him. I should have challenged him."

Ashton glares at me and puts out his cigar with his foot. His eyes linger for a moment, and then look into the diner where Gideon and Sean are turning off the lights and locking up. Ashton sighs and leans against his Plymouth minivan.

"Galvin, we didn't ask you to defend us. We appreciated it, but Michael had his issue. Yeah, what he did was pretty fucked up. He went to jail for it and did his time. In fact, he turned himself in. After you beat the crap out of him in the arcade he was never the same."

"...I can't believe you're defending him."

"I'm not defending him. I'm trying to make you understand that while he was a real asshole, he really loved you."

I flip and I'm yelling, "Aw fuck, dude! I can't believe you said that. He was always rough with me. He never once held me or kissed me, not the way a lover are suppose to do. After having plenty of experience in college and in the city I got to experience real love. Males more powerful while more gentle have touchd me, hold me and they don't treat friends like shit! Where do you get off saying shit like that?!"

Sean stands, frozen next to Gideon and tries to speak up. "Galvin?"

"No." I say, "I cannot CONCIEVE of it! I hope he's rotting in whatever jail or prison he's stuck in. I fucking hate that guy! I hate him!"

Everyone is silent, even the crickets are listening and the bullfrogs are motioning into the water where it's safe. I'm breathing heavy and my heart is ready to jump out of my chest. It is as if my heart is about to join the bullfrogs that I had screamed with so much bile in my word. I surprise even myself. I hadn't gotten this upset since I hit Michael with a soup can.

"Gideon, thanks for the great meal. I need to cool off at the resort. I'll try and bump into you tomorrow when I've mellowed out. It's good seeing you all."

I walk to the car without looking back. I can sense Gideon and Sean wanting to come over, but it doesn't take eyes on the back of my head to know Ashton is holding them back. I reach the car and I peel out of the parking lot without acknowledging the three of them. I realize how bad I came off and would have to apologize in the morning. I don't make any stops despite wanting to grab something for digestion. I feel a food coma coming on and I head straight to bed as soon as reach the resort.

I don't remember tucking myself in. I do recall raiding the fridge of a small bottle of tequila in the middle of the night. Half of my face is soaked. My tongue feels so dry. Getting up I see a trail of bottles of booze leading from the fridge to the table and a couple more on the floor. My stomach feels sore and I realize I am laying on my keys and bottle whisky. I must have not been able to sleep so I drank and then passed out. I could never go to bed angry. A night cap is my home remedy for anger induced insomnia. I need a better cure for the sleepless nights alone.

I peel off my clothes and take a hot shower. It's what I need. I wash away as much of the stink of booze and dry myself with the fur tunnel. It's stronger than the one at my apartment, but it does the job. I look through my gym bag and pull out a polo shirt and khakis. I go bare paws, realizing my golf shoes and oxfords don't fit well with my destination choice. My paws feel more relax and feel good on the marble floor leading to the elevator. The lobby has a store and I buy for a pair of sunglasses for a little security in case someone recognizes me. It's not until I get into the car that I realize I had left my phone on the passenger side seat. I put it on the charge station and head off into town.

It occurs to me how small the town is. Main Street is the most busy, but with the dying coal industry only a few stores were still around. There is Ashton Zuccermon's townhouse that doubles as an office on one side. The old arcade is now closed down with weathered paint that holds the imprinted letters of Genero Arcade over the wood siding. The grocery store has a sign, but the rest of the strip mall is empty. There is a gas station that I pull into and it doesn't have a credit card option. I go in to pay for gas hoping that Michael doesn't work there anymore. The last I heard, he had gone to jail for the beating he gave Arthur, but I wasn't sure if he got his job back after a year inside the institution. I approach the counter and I see a wolf. It isn't him and I'm grateful. I hand him the cash and head out to pump the gas myself.

Across the street is the cemetery. I see the spot where the oak tree casts a shadow over a row of plaques. I knew one of those is Arthur's mom. I assume that we would bury his ashes next to her. When we buried his mother all of our friends raised some money so she could be put in a nice urn and her grave would be decorated with a bouquet of flowers. We were kids then. Now as adults, I wasn't sure what kind of send off we would give him. How many would show? That question lingers in my mind even after I finish pumping gas and continue down the street. I pull in to a parking spot where Guitar N More once was and it's been replaced by a thift store with a banner covering the bold letter of the once highlight of my childhood. It's too depressing and I pull back out. After the coal industry dried up the town was never the same. It doesn't take long before reaching the garden and supplies store. It's the last store on the street and the only place I will be able to order flowers. I head in hoping there's at least something I can scavenge for what is worthy of a fair parting gift.

Without warning or expectation I see two old coyotes. It's my mother and father. I leave as soon as see them and I don't feel like being reminded of their lack of acceptance. Being outed by Gideon many years ago still stung. I should be over it, go up to my parents and rub it in that I make five times more than their house is worth with a year salary. They are still trying to pay off their mortgage after 30 years of making end's meat. I head outside and walk down the street while laughing off my near brush of an encounter. They didn't see me, but I don't look back in case they run out and see the son whom they casted out. I try not to think of it and keep my eye forward before turning into the pawn store.

I look around and hear a familiar sound. Power Up Nitro is in the corner and is on demo. I spent a week's worth of quarters in one night playing this game. I can't help myself. I have to play a few games. I pull out a few quarters that I kept for the toll bridges up north and slip one into the coin slot. The 16 bit visual, the iconic sounds and the layers dust on the screen with paw prints brought back memories. For one of the first shoot'em up games I had ever played it still holds up. I pass the first stage pretty well with taking only one hit. I had a 50% chance I would pass the second stage when I was a kid, but I blew past it with an extra life. But, as the third stage loads I hear the front door open and someone comes in. I don't think much of it, but I can hear the footsteps approaching. I think it's just someone browsing, but then I see the paw with black fur and a leather wrist band pressing up against the side of the arcade structure to my right. I hear the sound of claws scratching his furry neck and his scent hits my nose. It's a wolf. It's the wolf.

"Careful of the sprig fighters. They come in two waves on each side. Stick to the generators until they pass."

I continue to play, ignoring him. I go straight for the sprig fighters and anticipate their circular formation as I tap the toggle up and down while firing on their fleet. They all crumble and I power up with triple fire and I blast the generator as soon as all the sprigs fighters have fallen and I head into stage three.

"Nice," he says. "You've been practicing. Let's see how you've improved."

Again, I ignore him and the sprig fighters are the least of my worry as the boss fighter makes his first appearance. I aim for the generators now and they fall quickly with my upgrade. I button mash the torpedo button and keep a firm paw pad on the rapid fire. Even with the distraction of a wolf nose that is a foot away from my shoulder, I concentrate on the game. The nose makes the slightest of sniffs so he hopes I won't notice. I continue playing the game into the eighth level. I'm surprised I'm doing so well despite the biggest mistake of my life is standing over my shoulder watching, giving me pointers and emitting his wolf stink into my air.

"Final battle in space requires a wingman. You can grab it when-"

I say, "I got it."

I immediately regret my interaction. I figure I would not say a thing and leave as soon as my one quarter deposit runs out. With him standing behind me I am tempted to crash my three lives, but I gain one more heading into the next level. I'm sweating. I forget how much this game can take it out of you and I blink more often going into the last level. It's the final boss when I lose two ships. I manage to keep my last two and beat the boss for the first time I had ever been able to in a few years.

"Yes! You did it!"

I can't help but smile. I start to put in my name, but tradition dictates I put in a vanity name as I always do. I tap in 'G.A.Y' above the row of 'D.I.C' cascading down the long history one player had made and take the highest score.

"You beat my high score."

"I was always better than you," I say as I turn around. "Michael."

I see him for the first time in five years. His black fur is just as I remember. There is a half-moon scar over his right eye from when I beat his head in and left a gash. There are tiny scars on top of his muzzle from more fights from before and after I left him. His icy gray eyes look down on me and I realize how much he put on muscle. I had put in time at the gym myself, but he is massive. He always was.

"Hello, Galvin. Long time no see." I say, "Not long enough."

Michael says, "Still mad at me, are you?"

"No," I say, "I moved on."

Michael raises his paw up quick as I expect him to grab me by my shoulder like he use to, but rubs the thick fur around his neck. His paw pads run through it like a forest. Around his tanktop is a tuft of fur dipping down with his chest mane pushing out like it's trying to escape. His wolf frame is built and lean. He is thick in all the right areas and I can't stand that I'm a little turned on.

"I suppose you're here for the funeral. I heard Arthur passed away. I came to pay my respects as well."

"Wow, that's rich coming from you after you beat him up over a can of soda you thought was yours!"

"Hey, that was years ago. I even did time. I came back, but you were gone. I tried being a good friend."

"You were never a good friend. Hell, you were so dominating as boyfriend. I lived in fear of you, knowing if I didn't do as I was told you'd rough me up."

"Hey now," growls Michael. "I never roughed you up. I tried to be gentle when we made love. You never complained and I..."

The store attendant stares at us. I take the chance to squeeze past Michael and head out the door. I feel him behind me, and he catches up with his longer stride. He must stand 6'5" and towers over me. Despite being taller than my father or any other coyote I saw at the gym I am like a twig to him.

"You know, I changed."

"Good for you. Now, go play in the street."

"I knew one day you'd come back."

"Not coming back. I'm just here for Arthur and I'm leaving as soon as the funeral is over. Fuck you, dude."

"Dude, I'm trying to be nice here. I want to say I'm sorry."

I stop pacing and he knocks into me with his huge frame I might as well be hit by a truck. His belt buckle on his jeans hit my spine and his foot comes down on my heel. I turn around and he steps back a little. His ears are down and his paw goes up to scratch his neck again. I wait for him to form the words, but the idiot is too slow. I start to turn, but I feel his paw on my shoulder and he tugs me. He is gentle this time.

"I'm sorry I hurt you. What I did to Arthur has no excuse, but you know I made up to him when I got out of jail. He was living on the street and I gave him a few buck."

"Fucking hell, Michael. You are such an asshole!"

"Hey, I tried to help him. He was out of a job. Bank took his house. He didn't have anything. I...I felt bad."

I say, "Congratulations. You feel shit. Now go step in it. You didn't just hurt him. You hurt anyone you're with. You fucking asshole. You deserve prison for some of the shit you got away with. All you do is hurt people!"

I show weakness. There are tears in my eyes and I turn away. He tries to grab my arm, but I shake him off me and walk to the car. I start it with my remote. I see my father who looks shocked his son the faggot has returned. He is a complete stranger to me and my mother next to him must be looking in my rental, admiring at the older Audi model that cost twice her salary at the clinic she works. Their eyes meet mine when I enter the car and put it in reverse, speeding out the parking space. I don't need to look. It's a dying town street and I speed off into the direction of Ashton's house.

Ashton is home and I don't bother to call. I see him pull a curtain back while I put the car into park. I walk a little faster than I usually do heading up to the porch. Before I knock, Ashton is at the door with two bottles of beers.

"Here. Now, come in."

I take the beer and look at him as he disappears into the house. I follow him in expecting to see the kids, but it's quiet. There are a few toys scatter around the family room, but it's fairly clean. He sits in his recliner in his red boxers and white tee. He's watching the game of Georgia Tech vs Maryland U. he sips his beer with his eyes glued to the 42 inch screen.

"Were you expecting me?"

He says, "I texted you."

I look down at my phone and there are four texts from him. I flip through them. All of them say the same thing, asking when I'm heading over.

I say, "You'll never guess who I ran into."

"Michael, your mom and your dad."

"How the fuck did you know?"

"Lucky guess. You knew you were bound to run into Michael at some point."

"Fuck, dude. You should have told me he was in town."

He says, "I tried to yesterday. I knew you weren't going to be happy. He's pretty well known around town. Call him the go-to fixer."

"I didn't even see his fucked up truck out there," I says as I sit down on the couch.

"He sold it a couple weeks ago. He needed the money."

"What does he do now? Sit at home, drink himself to sleep? He's the only gay in town. So, he either blows married guys or does the usual odd jobs."

"He does odd jobs, but mostly lawn care for older couples whose kids grew up and moved out of town. His landscaping business is doing pretty good. Though, when Arthur got sick he worked on his own." "What?" I say a little surprised at Ashton nodding to me, "No...Arthur? Our Arthur?"

"Yeah, Arthur went into the landscaping business with him a couple years back. They lived in the same duplex. Not to say Arthur was gay. He never knew any other rabbits other than estranged family and he didn't talk to them."

"How could Arthur having anything to do with Michael after the shit he pulled on him? He was in the hospital because of him. Why?"

"Desperate. My wife wouldn't let him sleep on the couch. His house was turned into a salon. He lived on the street until Michael got out of jail. I thought that Arthur skipped town and came by every so often to pay respects to his mother, but later it occurred to me he was homeless. I felt bad. Believe it or not, Michael was there for him more than Sean or I ever could."

Ashton puts down his empty bottle next to two other bottles he finished off. I take another swig of beer and put the pieces together.

I say, "So, where do Decker and Charlize fit into finding him? Was he trying to get away from Michael?"

Ashton sighs and says, "Look, I didn't want to tell you this, but Decker and Charlize were just sitting down, eating dinner when Michael was wailing on the other side of the duplex. When Arthur fell sick Michael looked after the rabbit. He didn't ask for any help, but from what I am told Arthur took what he could get considering how little he had. Yeah, Michael would yell and cuss at him according to Decker. He told me that Michael was at a breaking point when Charlize went in to investigate the yelling and moaning. They found Arthur in his arms, on the floor. He was crying when he they found him. Arthur had passed and he didn't have a phone to call an ambulance so he yelled until he hoped some police or anyone would come by."

"Shit," I say.

"Yeah, Arthur's life was pretty fucked from beginning to end. But you know, he loved everyone of his short list of friends. He even wondered what happened to you, tried looking you up. But then, when I told him I saw you in Ohio he forbid everyone from saying anything."

"Wait, he resented me not coming back? Wait, what?"

"No, he didn't. So, don't think that for a second. The cancer took him pretty quick and by the time he was in his final stages he cut himself off from everyone except Michael. He didn't want to depend on others. Maybe out of fear of being abandoned like his father had to his mother, but without money there was much to be done. Gideon was dealing with the divorce. Sean was 50 miles away. I was always busy. Gideon did drop by with food and whatever Arthur wanted. It was the most he would take from anyone."

"So, Michael fed him, bathed him and was there when he died? I had no idea."

"Yeah, I tried going over once with some beer to get away from the wife, but Michael wouldn't let me in. At first I thought he was keeping him captive, given his history of being a complete asshole, but I heard Arthur. He was coughing up a lung. I could hear him throw up and I wanted to assist him, but Michael just shook his head and Arthur pleaded for me to stay away. He didn't want to see anyone in his condition. So, I stayed away. Earlier this week, Michael came to my office and told me he passed away one night. Real peaceful, he said."

"I guess I should have listened to Michael at least a little bit. He came up to me while I was in the pawn store. Just leaning over me like some love sick pup who forgot I beat the crap out of him with a soup cap, like a day hadn't gone by and he was looking to give me the touch."

"I can't imagine. I don't think anyone blames you for not coming back for so long. Your parents ask about you, wonder what you're doing as of late, but I tell them I hadn't heard from you in years. They don't linger. But I have to say that Michael has been anticipating your return one day. I shouldn't tell you this, but this weekend was his plan to get together."

"What?!"

"Not like that. He suggested that everyone meet up at Gideon's and have some BBQ. He works there in the back tending to the smokers. Gideon laid the rules that he not speak to you when you were ready, but he couldn't keep that promise for tomorrow. I was going to break it to you today when you came over."

"Shit, Ashton. What else? Any more secrets?

"Well, we got a coffin for Arthur. Actually, Michael did. I don't know where he got the money, but must have saved up mowing those lawns on top of selling the truck. He rang from a pay phone across from the cemetery. He saw you looking over to the grave site. He was digging. Yeah, he works at the cemetery as you might have guessed. He called me on the payphone and I couldn't convince him to wait a bit. I tried calling. Your phone must have been off."

I don't know what to make of this. I would have jumped to help Arthur. There I was with two cars, a big apartment, entertain friends, and make get-aways with a sail boat I plan to take out next week on Lake Champlain. I felt sick. I could have paid out pocket for some of the things Arthur really needed, but then he didn't want my help. Arthur didn't want anyone's help.

"I'm sorry," I say.

Ashton says, "How could you know? All of us lead different lives and interacting with him was few and far between. I thought the same way you did when I first heard. And no one in the real world keep track with all their childhood friends. I don't think about distance, how fat some of us go got or how many cubs one has when making a difference in who my friends are. Yeah, Arthur was a friend. I just live a separate life like you."

I wipe away the tears from my eyes and take another swig from the bottle. Here I am thinking about myself again and how it moving far away affected Arthur, but Ashton lived here all his life and was cut off from being able to help his friend. It is 143 steps from his home to my old house and 167 steps the other way to Arthur's old family home which is now a salon. Living so close to everyone, Ashton was within reach of all of us, but location didn't play a factor in how each of us kept in touch. It must be hitting him harder than anyone to live in a town all his life and watch the connected threads of the of the original Rambunctious Six being outstretched like old rubber bands and mine is cut from them all. I had burned mine with Michael as much as anyone else.

Ashton cracks open another beer and his eyes are planted on screen. He's not fixated on the game, because he keeps the act of a direct focus even when the game goes to commercial and the all-you-can-eat pizza of Pepper's Pizzaria comes on with the obnoxious fox dancing around in a chicken outfit. Ashton is hurting, but he puts on a convincing act.

I get up, take one last drink from the bottle and head to the kitchen. I rinse out the bottle and place it in the recycling bin tucked in the corner with book bags, a line of cub shoes and a coat rack. With every detail I scan for irregularity and come to the conclusion that Ashton lives a mundane life as a father and lawyer. He isn't held down by anything. He is settled down in life. I head back to Ashton and sit watching the game until it ends with the score of 34 to 30. Georgia Tech lost. Ashton reveals a little more that he's upset, but he doesn't cuss or throw a temper tantrum. He shuts off the TV and gets up slow.

"You want to head over to Gideon's for lunch? The wife is out for the day with the kids. She won't be coming back here until late. Something about a school function, community tag sale or something."

"Sure," I say, realizing Michael would be there. "It doesn't bother me that Michael has to work. Everyone lives."

"Ah, good. I've been craving those lolly pop lamb chops you had last night. I can't get them out of my mind."

I say, "They were good. I'm looking to have some of the hash with steak. I don't suppose Sean will come too? Oh, and we can take my car. I just put a full tank of gas in it.

Ashton nods in approval and motions to the door. He puts on his sneakers and follows me out the door. He doesn't say anything getting into the car or along the drive to the diner. He flicks at the seat controls, the tab for the window and the air conditioning control to his side of the car. With his money he can buy one, but with his wife being herself and having three cubs he is frugal. It's only until we pull into the Gideon's diner that he clears his throat and stretches out before heading in.

Gideon's diner has a few tables full. Before I can suggest we take the booth seats Ashton is already sitting there and I follow suit. Gideon licks his jowls and I can't blame him. My mouth is already watering. We wait for Gideon, but Michael comes through the door in an apron.

"Hey guys, What'll it be?"

I say, "Where's Gideon?"

Michael says, "Gideon is out. Said he needed to stock up before next week."

"Is there going to be a problem?" Ashton says, "We can go somewhere else if we need to."

"No, I'm alright," I say. "I said what I needed to get out of me earlier."

"Well, I'm glad I still make a good punching bag. So, what'll it be?"

Gideon orders the lolly pops and hash. I go with the gumbo and sword fish steak. I watch as Michael jots it down. He doesn't need to. He's always been sharp, but he does so for a perhaps dramatic affect that he's attentive.

"Anything else? Beer? Wine cooler? Or, just water?"

Gideon and I motion our sights to the picture of water and Michael pours us two full glasses. He then leaves into the back and I can hear the back door swing open. He is checking the smokers. Gideon chews on a toothpick and eyes me like he is anticipating a conversation about Michael. His eyes motion, telling me to go talk to him. I wonder if he set this up so I'd talk to him. It's unavoidable. It will be more awkward at the funeral tomorrow so I might as well get it all out.

I don't follow the same way into the kitchen, but instead I go through the front and swing around the side. Pecan trees create a shadow over the stone path into the back of the diner and I can smell of the meat cooking on the grill. Michael is tending to the racks of ribs. He slathers a big helping of BBQ sauce over them and puts on three lamb chops for Ashton. He had to have noticed me with his big wolf ears, but he's hard at work.

"Ashton told me about Arthur."

"Yeah, it sucked. At least tomorrow we can give him a proper send off."

"I'm sorry about earlier. You didn't deserve some of the things I said to you."

"Yes, I did," Michael says, finally turning around to look at me after closing the grill. "I was an asshole. In fact, I'm still am after all these years. I don't pick fights none anymore though. Well, unless they can't be avoided."

"You ever hook up with anyone?"

He says almost like he's defensive, folding his arms, "Naw. There was only you."

I say, "You didn't hook up with a girl?"

Michael says, "Nope, only had eyes for dick and balls. You?"

"Never!"

Michael grins. Something inside him comes to life and it almost swallows his pride enough to make his tail wag.

"I don't suppose you hooked up with guys up there. They are likely more out gays who live up north. Out here there are more steers than queers. I'm the only open queer for 100 miles."

"Well, I figured you'd have plenty of that in jail or at least a married dick to suck."

"Naw, too risky. I was offered, but I'm not stupid. Doesn't take a genius to see a row of cars parked around some dude's car to know that they plan to gang up on me when I head out to the parking lot behind the old arcade. They get real bored and are itching for an old fashioned beat down. I offered to kick each of their asses if they line up for me. They ran scared. No fun when I know about the drop they wanted to give me."

"Well, you still work out," I say.

Michael's tail is thrashing and he doesn't hide it. He say, "Yeah. Yeah, I do. You like?"

"Yeah," I say.

"Well, after a year in jail it was all I could focus. I see you packed on some muscle. You're taller than your father is. He didn't recognize you. Your mother did."

"Well, they can go fuck themselves," I say.

Michael chuckles.

I walk over to the smokers. They're made up of old barrels. The grills are set up the same way, but give off more heat. I feel Michael's eyes studying me. His arms are folded with a set of tongs in one hand and his other free. He wants to say something and it is a couple of minutes before he says anything.

"You hook up with anyone long term?"

"Yeah, asshole, but he isn't my boyfriend if that's what you're wondering."

Michael shuffles his feet and his head dips a bit. Before long he says, "Are they any good as I was in the sack?"

I say, "I picked up a few tricks along the way. I'd say I have more experience than those I have been with as of recent."

"So, that's a no," Michael says grinning. He's so proud of himself I wish he'd burn himself opening up the smoker to pull out a rack of ribs to put on a plate. He grabs a whole chicken, places on top of a beer can and puts cooked ones on the tray. He heads into the kitchen and he tends to the front for a couple minutes before coming back out into the back. "So, how long are you going to be here?"

I say, "Until tomorrow. I have to head out Monday morning early. I have a plane to catch."

"So soon," he says.

"Yeah, I made plans, but I felt I needed to make things right down here."

"And you're talking to me?"

"Until my food is ready. I just want to watch you."

Michael puts a smile on my face as he says, "I'm not going to poison you. Though, to make sure you don't do anything I hid all the cans of soup in the kitchen."

"Hey, your face doesn't look too bad after I bashed it a few times."

Michael comes over and he's a foot away from my face as he looks down at me. He's still towers over me. I realize I'm flirted with him without realizing it. I roll my eyes and head up front where Ashton is probably wondering what we are doing in the back.

"Quit staring at my ass, Michael!"

"I'll stare all I want!"

Ashton is sitting with his muzzle down at a place mat with a crayon in paw. He's coloring in locations he's been based across the country. He notices me coming around the corner and traces his eyes around me wondering if I got into a fight or fuck. I walk in and sit down next to Ashton and he turns his body with an elbow on the table.

"Well?"

"Well what?"

"Am I going to have to go back there to get my food or Michael still able to use his legs?"

I say, "I was civilized. We just chatted. That's all."

Ashton prods, saying, "Did you make up?"

"No. We had an exchange of word. Not a big deal. He's nearly done with the food."

A few minutes later and Michael comes in. He visits a couple tables and gives them their bill. He cleans the last table up and grabs his tip. As he wipes down the table I look over and get a view of his well formed ass. Ashton makes a humming sound in acknowledgment that he caught me looking.

I look over to Ashton and say, "Up yours, Ashton."

Ashton snickers and goes back to filling in the east coast of his map. Michael comes over after bussing the tables and hands me the same place mat map. I look up at him and he's looking down expecting me to pick up a crayon and fill in a few states. He doesn't say anything, but this expression his pleading. I humour him and I grab a green crayon from Ashton's side. I scribble using my paw as an outline. I fill in as many of the States as I can. With the exception of Alaska and Texas I had been to every state. Ashton watches me vigourously run my crayon side to side until 48 states have been completely filled in and I finish the blank spot around the edges I missed on the second pass.

"Well, you get around," says Michael. "I never left Georgia."

I look over at Ashton and he's finished. He has all the eastern parts filled in and some of the west. Ohio is the furthest he has traveled and all of the Midwest and over are blank. I look down at my map and scribble in the last corner of New Mexico. It's finished.

"Damn, I knew you got around. I always wanted to visit California and Hawaii. You really visit those places?"

"Yeah, Michael. I've visited Europe and parts of Africa. Life has been an adventure. After college I had a chance to travel a bit. Now living in the city I get away for the weekend. I'm hitting up Lake Champlain next week."

"Shit," says Michael.

Ashton stares at Michael. I can tell he is deep in study. He's probably trying to figure out Michael's true intention as much as I am.

Michael says, "You know, Sean is getting out of work late and Gideon is joining him. You want to head up there and see what's going on later?"

"I can't," says Ashton. "Kids. The wife."

Michael smirks and says, "Your wife could stand to get out and about. Ash, I saw her. Seriously, she let herself go."

I feel a yelling match coming on. Michael always does this when things are going too smoothly. I look over to Ashton and he shrugs. He brushes it off. I'm impressed.

Michael continues, "And now you have three kids. You have a fourth on the way?"

Ashton says, "No. My tubes are tied. No chance I'm having any more cubs. I swear. No more."

"Wow, you got your balls cut off?"

I say, "No, he had a vasectomy. He still has balls, but he can't get his wife pregnant anymore."

Michael says, "I wouldn't want to sleep with her either. She looks like a volkswagon beetle in a dress."

Ashton makes a face and glares at Michael like he's going to reach over and strangle him.

I say, "Well, at least he's getting some. Being the only queer wolf in 100 mile really has them bursting through your back door. Hey, you got some sheep out in the field over there. Maybe they might be nice and give you the old reach around."

Ashton can't help but burst out laughing. Michael is trying his best not to bare his teeth and shrugs. He goes into the back and tends to the grill. In little time he comes back with our food.

"Oh good, I'm starving," says Ashton pulling out his fork and knife from his rolled up napkin. "Mmm...Smells good too.

"Eat up," says Michael. "Oh, and I've been saving something for a time like this. I'll be right back."

I begin to eat. It's as good as I always remember. There's nothing like this up north and I might as well enjoy it while there's still some left on my place. I hear Michael. He's rummaging through the back and making a lot of noise and cusses.

"I swear I had it here a moment ago. Fuck, where did I put it?"

There is more rummaging and a row of clatter. Finally, Michael comes through the door and presents a bottle of tequila. It has dust on it and I know that at least he wasn't lying about saving it for a special moment. He twists open the bottle and puts three glasses on the table. He pours Ashton a glass first and fills it until he waves his paw over it.

"I'm already five beers in. I really do have to get home after this."

"Oh," says Michael.

Michael then turns to me and pours a little in my glass. I watch and he waits for me to say when. It's only a half-glass and I tell him to stop as soon as a half inch is left near the top. He laughs a little, thinking I'm still a one and then done guy as I was back then. He fills his glass half full and he raises it to make a toast.

"To old friend here and moved on..."

Before he can put his glass to his muzzle I have poured it down my throat and put the glass down to continue eating. Ashton takes a small sip as if to only wet his lip. Michael lets his drink hover before downing his and laying the glass down on the counter.

"Since when do you drink like that," asks Ashton.

"For some time since college. I go out drinking every night with some of the girls and their mates after work. The guys like to bar hop to pass time between drinks. The girls choose a bar and stay through the night until they hook up or go home to their male."

Michael asks, "Which one are you, usually?"

Michael's direct question about my sex life lingers in the air. He pours me another glass hoping to squeeze the answer out of me with some liquid incentive. I swallow the last helping of sword fish and raise my glass.

"I'm the one who guards the females when the males aren't around. All their males know me. They either work with me or been around me to know I don't go for the fems."

I down my second drink and place the glass on the table gently.

Michael sips his drink and pours me another glass. He does it more slowly and I know he's trying to find the right question before I wave my hand to stop.

"So," Michael says, "You don't do females. Where do you find the guys to take home?"

I take my drink in my paw and raise my glass. I watch him take another sip and I down my drink before he puts his down and say, "I usually hit the gay bars late at night after I bring the females home. I tend to prowl for the guys a little past their bed time."

Michael smirks as he takes another sip from his glass and refills it. Ashton is watching the both of us. He's finished as well, but is sipping his drink to make it last. Ashton's nose is a little red while Michael is taking another splash into his mouth and points to me without an idea for another question. He pours me another drink and my eyes rest on his big grays waiting for him to form a thought.

"What kind of guys you go for these days?"

I pick up my drink and try not to think of an answer and let slip the beverage into my mouth. I take a moment longer to down it, but I don't want to choke or show sign that I am feeling the buzz. I place the empty glass on the counter and tell him what he wants to hear, not skimming on the details.

"I go for the guys of all types. I dated a fox, a boar, a few wolves and even took on a horse. It doesn't matter to me what species as long as they're male, ready for a ride and not afraid."

Michael tilts his head while raising his glass. He lingers on a thought and sips down his glass, taking his time. He nearly chokes, but recovers with a big gulp. He puts down his glass with a hard clunk he didn't mean to make. He fills his glass half way, eyes me and pours some more before he pours one for me.

He asks, "A few wolves, huh? I bet they hit the spot deep down."

Michael and I raise our glasses. Ashton sits quiet in his seat as we tip our glasses. I finish mine first, putting the glass down before he is half way through his.

I say to him, "Yeah, but I knew this one tiger who stretched me to the limit. That guy had a big cock."

Michael chokes and puts down his drink before going into a coughing fit. His eyes rest on me like I had smacked him across the face. He looks down at his drink and I see his nose is a little dry and his small scars once a light tan colour are now beat red. He finishes his drink when he regains his breath. He fills his glass half full and tips the bottle all the way until it's emptied in mine with the last drop. He puts the bottle behind the counter and raises his glass to me. Our eyes meet and he doesn't have a question in that moment. Our glasses slowly rise to our muzzles and I pour it down feeling the wave of alcohol hit my throat and down into my stomach. He takes a moment and finishes his drink. One of his pale gray eyes flash at me and he rests the glass on the counter. As he does, his body makes a little rocking motion.

"Wow," Michaels says, "You really moved on in the world. It's good to hear."

Michaels sounds a little sullen, but he means it at the last part. Ashton finishes his last sip and lets out a muffled burp. They're both drunk and I'm a little buzzed. I keep a straight face and get up and stretch while Michael collects his last tips of the day. Ashton takes his time getting up. He rubs his belly and turns around toward me with his paw on my shoulder.

"You alright?"

"Yeah, why do you ask, Ashton?"

"Nothing," he says. "It just feels like one of those days. Tomorrow is the funeral, in the morning. I think we can meet up around 9am and give our friend a proper send off."

"Sounds about right. I can drive you back now. I'm not drunk. Just let me pay for us and we can get moving."

Ashton says, "Thanks."

I leave the money on the counter and give Michael a good tip. He's in back somewhere so I can't thank him for the drink. Outside Ashton is looking out into the pond with the pecan tree over hear. He waves at me to join him and I park my feet next to his.

"Believe it or not," says Ashton, "Michael has taken the death much harder than any of us. It's not that he takes responsibility for it, but the exact opposite. He did whatever he could to make Arthur feel comfortable. In the end, he was there. I think he has found rest in that and a lot of things he's done in the past."

"I don't think that excuses him," I say.

"No," says Ashton. "But it is in the realm of solidarity in how we deal with death as much as we deal in life."

"Perhaps," I say. "Maybe I'm the one lagging behind. I didn't keep in touch with any one of you. I threw everything behind me to make way for the next best opportunity, one night after another, the next deal or merger and the upgrades that money offers you. Money isn't what makes the world go round."

"Galvin, no one blames you for leaving. We all took different paths. Even Michael has made strides despite being an inherent asshole. But he's lost as much if not more and with nothing to show for making a change."

"Was today about Michael?"

Ashton says, "No. It was about you."

Ashton leaves for the car. I unlock it with the remote and look up at the pecan tree for a still moment. There isn't a breeze. The air is still, but somehow I feel the tree is moving. It is a lingering thought driving Ashton home. It's not even 3pm and I feel tired. I drop Ashton off and I get a text from Sean. He wants to hangout.

Ashton asks, "Something wrong?"

"No, it's just Sean. I'll tell him to come over to the hotel a little later if he wants to hang. It was good seeing you this weekend. It's been interesting."

"Thanks for the lunch, Galvin. See you tomorrow."

With that I shoot a text to Sean to meet me at the hotel in an hour. I don't feel like hanging, but it's my one chance before taking my leave of this town for what may be forever. I drive back to the hotel and I check the text Sean sent back. He's already here. I look around and see Sean sitting in his fairly new Nissan Versa. He's sitting in his seat while listening to music on his phone. I knock on his window and he smiles. He puts away his phone and climbs out of his car.

I say, "How long have you been here?"

Sean says, "About ten minutes. I would have texted Ash, but he takes too long making a response on his flip phone of his."

"He seems older than he really is, doesn't he?"

"Tell me about it," he says.

I motion for him to come inside and we go to my room. He sniffs my shoulder. I don't say anything, but he has guessed that I have been drinking. Down the hall and into my room, Sean bolts into like a fat cub finding cake.

"Woah. This shit is off the hook."

"I don't think anyone uses that expression anymore."

"No way. This is some awesome set up. Dude, so this is what first class looks like?"

"It's the business suite. The presidential has a big hot tub which I couldn't care less about. Why don't you make yourself at home while I take a shower..."

Before I can finish what I say, Sean is bouncing on my bed and making a mess of the pile of pillows. I grab my suit and my clean shirt from the bag. I feel that having a shower to clear my head. The hot water feels good and my fur appreciates the conditioner I use on it for tomorrow's send off. I think of Ashton and how he's mellowed out after getting married and having cubs. While Michael is still an asshole he seems to have backed off getting on the nerves of those he surrounds himself with. Gideon has found his nitch in the world of culinary watering holes and wants to branch out. Tonight I plan to hang out with Sean and see where life is taking him. I think I better make the final good bye memorable for him, like old times.

After drying myself and putting on my trouser on I step through the door with my shirt hanging off my back. Sean is watching Mosey and the Bitch, a comedy about two lover coral as they try to sell their house that is falling apart like their marriage. He's at the part where they are taking sledge hammers to their wedding gifts and Sean is laughing at the scene. I button my shirt and get the feeling I won't be heading out with him and I'm thankful for it.

"We can stay in, order a pizza and watch Pay to View," I say.

Sean says, "Kind of like when we ran an extension cord out the window of my house and watched Cabin Creature in a tent?"

"Yeah, like old times."

Sean smiles and says, "You read my mind."

Sean and I go through the choice and we settle on Fox Hunter. Pizza is decent, but ordering extra cheesy bread had been a good idea. We talk about the failed plans of building a tree fort, what kind of mate we want we want to settle with and how many times we threw up after a night of drinking. I had more crazy nights than him, but he took the safe road for someone who talks big. It makes me wonder what happened to our friendship that didn't encourage me to keep lines open between us. And then, I remember that all things change.

"Hey, Galvin, did you ever see Rumble to Rat-Town?"

"No. The sequels never live up to the first."

"Too True."

Sean lays down and yawns while looking at his phone. His fuzzy ears are flipped up to full attention and he stares at the ceiling as though deep in thought. I hand him a pillow as I position myself at the head of the bed and look up too as I think I always hated the popcorn ceiling texture.

"Hey, Galvin..."

I look over and say, "Yeah, Sean?"

"It's been good seeing you again. With all that's changed around here you haven't forgotten what fun is. I work 15 hour days sometimes. I try to make time, but I guess I've been wrapped up in routine. I suppose it's inevitable as we became adults."

"No," I say. "I think it's about balance. Take the time to enjoy what you do. Yeah, work can suck sometimes, but if you have enough focus it really is an adventure in of itself. You make the time to find love, plan for the future and help create the similar experiences for younger generations. I still have a lot I want to do."

"Hmm." He says, looking over to me as he pushes the pillow under his head.

"I don't think about how long I have with people around me. I just try to say what needs to be said and move on. It would be nice to have something long term some day, but as things are I don't think that's possible with my life. I just shed everything like fur. I don't mind the change. I embrace it."

I look over to Sean again and he's fallen fast asleep. It doesn't take me long to slumber off as well. Early morning I wake up and Sean is in the shower. I get up and stretch out. I don't take long to get ready as I put on my tie, shoes and jacket. I comb my fur and check my phone before tucking it away into my gym bag with the rest of my clothes. Sean comes out of the shower and he's dressed in khakis, white shirt and a solid black tie. He motions to the door that he's ready and I follow after him.

I say, "We should grab some flowers to lay on his grave. I think there's a gift store here that might have something."

"Good idea," Sean says. He rubs his snout and scratches at the fuzz on his chin. "I want to grab something for everyone. You know, something to remember Arthur by."

"That's a nice thought."

Sean heads straight to the gift shop while I check out of the hotel. I think about the funeral and how many might come. At least a few of his friend would be there. Sean waves at me from the gift shop and I join him. He is looking at keychains of memorable sayings and they seem really cheesy. I motion over to the flower selection. The white tulips with a yellow arrangement appears a bit cheerful, but they're the more appropriate than the roses or the chocolate ones kept in the same fridge. I grab them and pay at the counter while Sean is still looking at the keychains. He comes over with an assortment. He pays and we head to the car.

"I hope you were able to find something decent," I say.

Sean hands me one of the keychains and it reads, 'To the memories and times we laughed and cried, go forward into life with perfect love'. The cheese factor is real.

"Like it?"

"Yeah, good choice."

The ride into town feels short, but my mind is wandering. Sean follows behind with in his car and motions his hand for me to turn into the parking lot of the cemetery. There are two cars aside from ours. Gideon, Ashton and Michael are waiting. I park and step out to greet them.

"Where's everyone?"

"This is it," says Michael.

"No, this can't be it. Where is everyone?"

"Really, this is it," says Ashton. "We were his friends."

I find the sight depressing. It would have been nice to see more people come, catch up and exchange memories. I don't say anything more and we all head to the grave site. There, a coffin is positioned over the resting place. The coffin is solid oak and a cassette player is beside a stack of cards with words for everyone to take with them. Michael presses the play button and it plays some calm and soothing music while we look around at each other. There isn't a priest or a voice to lead the prayer or final send off. Instead we look at each other. I can't help but tear up as Sean is already sobbing. Gideon is sniffling. Ashton is trying to keep it together, but his trembling hand sorts through the cards and hands me one. As the music stops I try to avoid eye contact with Michael. He runs his eyes around the circle and he doesn't make a sound. When the music ends Ashton speaks.

"Thank you all for coming. Today we remember a friend by the name of Arthur Cotton. When I grew up I wanted to be friends with this bunny who had the best way of making you laugh. Growing up in such a small town you stick to those who set you on your course. Arthur was like family. He was always there when you needed a hand. But, he also was there to remind you not to take things too serious. Have a little fun."

Sean speaks up after a moment, "Thanks, Ash. You're right. Arthur was my friend. I loved him. I miss him. He was a good drum player and made me laugh. He was a good sport when I pulled pranks. I wish there was more time."

Gideon wipes away his tears and his lower jaw if trembling. He sobs into a handkerchief he pulls from his jacket. I motion to say something, but he pats my arm and huffs to summon the words. He says, "I don't remember a time when he ever upset me. Friends are a strange type of family that pick at your nerves, remind you what is real. There were some great times when we were young. I saw us getting into trouble when we got old and we would be hiding from our nagging wives. Just sitting around, drinking beer and shoot fish out of a pond, because screw fishing poles."

I look at everyone and wonder why I ever abandoned them. I feel the lump in my throat and I force the words from my muzzle. I say, "Arthur was a great friend. I hadn't been there enough when he needed me. It's easy to get caught up in life, but a friend like Arthur is worth more than words can detail. I miss him."

Michael looks at me and it's the first time we make eye contact. He looks around and then down at the casket. He lips curl and he shakes his head and yells out.

"FUCK!"

All of us jump as he screams the single word. He picks up a remote and presses it as the casket drops into the ground and he walks away. I look at Ashton and he sighs not knowing what to say either. Gideon picks up the shovels and hands Sean one. I wait for a moment and then walk after Michael to give him a piece of my mind.

"Hey! Hey, Asshole! I'm talking to you!"

Michael turns around. He rolls his eyes at me. "What do you want?"

"Hey, everyone trying to keep it together. The least you can do act civilized."

"Act civilized," says Michael, "I can't do that. Remember? After you left I tried making it up to the kid. When I got out of jail I went looking for you, but you were gone. You know, Arthur was some homeless guy when I ran into him? I didn't recognize him. I walked by him so many times until I had some spare change in my pocket and I dropped it at his feet. It wasn't until he said 'thank you' that I realized who he was. His fur was falling out. He didn't even have shoes or fucking anything. Where the fuck where you? I needed you!"

"You needed me?" I say, "Is this what this weekend was all about? To show me that you changed and you are trying to get me back? Dude, you fucked up long ago. You want to know why I left? I was afraid of you. You were overpowering, controlling and only thought of yourself. You didn't care about anyone else."

Michael says, "Yeah, I cared about you. I didn't care about anyone else. That's how much you affected me. Yeah, I am an asshole who hurts people, but you can't say that I ever raised paw to you. I would never have done that. And no, I didn't do this weekend for you. I fucking tried to make friends with him. I took him in, clothed him, gave him a job and when he got sick I was there to give him enough comfort as possible while he died. I cleaned up his shit, piss and throw up for three months. There was nothing to be done. I couldn't afford treatment. So don't tell me that I didn't try!"

"Michael, you asshole. You did that for yourself, to feel wanted, needed. Is there anything you care about? Really?"

Michael's is trembling and he utters, "You."

"You can't have me. I moved on. You are living in a prison for your self-security, You used him because you didn't have anyone else that wanted to be around you."

"That's not true."

I ask, "No?"

"No. I took care of him. And because I couldn't pay for the prescription I turn to other drugs I could easily get on the street. The last two weeks he was begging me to end it. He was in pain. I pumped him full of Methamphetamines. Best street money can buy. But then I ran out. So, I sold my truck for a week's worth. I didn't know what to do. If he didn't die I would have to make him stop breathing...I held his hand. He begged me. Make it stop, Michael. Make it stop! I gathered as much as I could and fed it to him. I filled him with all the drugs I was able to get. He was in his final moments of lucid consciousness and he spoke your name. He spoke your name!"

Michael is crying now. His paws are shaking and he sobs. I can't help, but cry too as he continues his story.

"Galvin, look. Look, Galvin. Stars. See the stars. Can you see the stars, he said. We should gather all the star in a jar and make our own solar system. Look Galvin. And then, Arthur just looks at a wall and he says how you're the best. You were, Galvin. You were the best of all of us and I screwed up. I did the only thing that might be worth it. So, I gathered the money I had left over from selling the truck and bought a coffin. It was the best I could find. I wanted to give him a proper send off. I wanted you to come back and see how much love there still is."

"Michael, I can't. I do appreciate everything you did for him," I sob. "I just can't love you. I wish I was here for him to make things easier. I would have helped. But, now that things are said and done I don't have a place here. I'm leaving."

I walk to the car and start the car. Michael calls out to me as I drive off. I don't look back and I'm flip through my phone to check my flight for tomorrow. I plan to sleep in a chair at the airport or just stay awake until I board my flight in the morning. I look over to my bag and slip the phone back in. That's when I notice in the back seat that I forgot the flowers. I keep looking back after five minutes and stop the car, beat the steering wheel and turn around. It's a slight detour. Lay the flowers down and then get out of this shithole town.

I figure everyone is gone by the time I get back, but I see Ashton's minivan. I head back over to the grave and he is there with a shovel in his hand and the coffin jack by his feet.

"You're back."

"Yeah, I brought flowers."

"They're nice."

"Listen, I'm sorry for walking out, but I can't be here anymore. This town sucks."

"Yeah, it does," Ashton says. "I might convince the wife to move somewhere north. I don't think I can deal with the football fans up there though."

"So, Michael told me about the drugs and..."

"Yeah. He did. Heavy fucking thing. He managed to drag the coffin out of my van late last night and sat in the cemetery until dawn to make sure no one fucked around with it."

"Did you know he killed Arthur?"

"I assumed he drugged him with anything he could find on the street. Somewhere in the back of my mind I knew he did something to end Arthur's pain. When he sold his truck I knew he was committed to doing it. He wouldn't let me see Arthur at that point. I didn't talk him out of it. I just wanted to see Arthur one last time. Then, Michael asked me to track you down the day he came to tell me Arthur passed. And I obliged."

"This sucks," I say, laying the flowers down on Arthur's grave.

I see Sean's keychain on his plaque and re-positions it so It isn't covering Arthur's name. Ashton pats me on the shoulder and heads back to his car. I wait for a moment before heading out myself. Pull out of the parking lot and turn left when I should have turned right. I feel like looking around town one last time. I pass the arcade, the pawn shop where my favourite video game gathered dust and took a look at my parents' house around the corner. I make a U-turn when I spot something happening in the parking lot behind the arcade. At first I thought it is a bunch of cubs playing baseball, but then I see them swinging at someone. I can't cut across with the car so I floor it around the corner and back onto Main Street. I head down the street behind the arcade and I see Michael being hit by four guys. They are screaming profanities at him as he lets them hit him. I recognize them. They're a bunch of hicks who use to throw rocks and target Michael and I for being in a relationship. He could take all of them on with no problem, but he doesn't have his guard up.

"Fight back. Damn it, Michael. Fight back."

Michael goes down with a swing of a bat hitting the side of his head. I see one of them have a knife and they hold him down. I can't let them and hop out of my car. I bolt to them before they make another slice across his chest.

"Hey!"

"Back off, Coyote. We have some unsettled business with this queer."

"You better come for me then too," I say and without thinking, I yell, "Get off my boyfriend!"

"Nothing sacred with you queers is there? This guy said he offered to suck my dick behind the arcade and we got the drop on him. Will, can you deal with this guy for us while I finish up here?"

"Galvin, run! Get out of here!"

"Sure thing," say the ram.

The ram raises the bat and takes a swing. It connects to my ribs, knocking the wind out of my lungs, but I'm still standing and grab the bat so he can't swing again. He tries pulling it out of my grip, but I kick him in the stomach and he doubles over. I swing the bat across his face and he goes down. The two other guys are huge. One is a buck and he tries to gore me with his antlers. I put the bat in front of me and it goes flying across the parking lot. I grab him by the antlers and I am swung around like a rag doll, smashing against the large van with blacked out windows. I see the bull with a crowbar and before he can swing I tackle him. He doesn't budges and I lift with all my might and throw him into the van's side. His horns are stuck and I crawl out from under his struggling mass. I open the van door and as the buck tries to ram me I trap his antlers in the door and slam it into his head. One of his antlers breaks off, but I grab the one through the window so he doesn't get away. I close the door on his head a few times before he falls to the ground and groans. I grab the keys he had dropped and turn the car on before shifting into drive, grabbing a bag with a case of beer inside and dropping it on the petal. The car drives away with the bull being dragged on the side of the van as it hits a telephone pole. The boar is the last guy left and he has a knife against Michael's throat. I sigh as I look down at the crowbar, but then I see a can of Spaghetti and meatballs and snatch that up instead.

"What are you doing? Don't you know I'm going to kill him?"

I charge at the boar and he throws Michael at my feet. I leap and the can connects with his skull. He falls with his knife dropping to the pavement beside him. I kick it away and start hitting him with the can until it is dented up and he lays unconscious with his buck and ram friend. I check my ribs and they are pulsing with pain. I cough, looking over to Michael who is staggering to his feet. I pick him up and drape one of his arms over my neck and I help him over to my car.

"I thought you left," Michael says.

"I did, but I had to come back. I don't like leaving friends in the dust. What were you doing offering a blowjob to someone like that?"

"I wasn't. I felt like getting into a fight."

"Didn't look like you were fighting back," I say.

"Yeah. Well, some asshole need an ass kicking. Hey, did you call me your boyfriend?"

"No, must have been the baseball bat."

"I'm pretty sure you did."

"You got hit in the head too many times. And best you wipe that smile off your face before I grab that can of spaghetti and meatballs and use it on your head next."

After I reached hospital and told the police what happened they arrested the guys who beat the shit out of Michael. A couple of them were on probation is it is. I had two broken ribs and a couple scratches. Michael had a concussion and so he had to stay in the hospital a couple of days while I made my flight. Sean texts me as I got off three hours later. He says that Ashton would look after Michael until he recovers and keep me informed. I breathe a little easier, but my ribs too busted.

My sail boat is waiting for me. All packed and ready to go. Lake Champlain waits. The sound of the sails beat as the wind takes the reins. I cut off the motor. I am a half a mile out when I hear someone cough from the cabin below. It hadn't occurred to me to check. I tossed my dry bag down below and I didn't think I had a stow-away. I open the hatch and jump down with my flare gun in hand. I can't see as the cabin is dark and my eyes haven't adjusted. "Put that down before it goes off in my face, damn it."

"Michael?"

"Yeah, Ashton said you were going sailing. He caught a listen while you gave one of the cops your name and where you'd be. I got to say I wasn't sure which sail boat was your until I saw the name. Seriously, Soup Can isn't the most creative name. You should really change it"

"I can change it to Spaghetti and Meatballs."

"That's much better."

I step forward and with my vision more focused. I see Michael with his bandages all over his arms, chest and head. He lays in the bed wearing only his boxers and a knee brace.

I say, "Is there any place you didn't get hit by a baseball bat and crowbar?"

He points to his crotch and I leap on top of him, landing on his pelvis as he groans.

"So, you sure you want to put up with this coyote for a whole week of sailing? We can turn back."

Michael continues to groan and positions his paws on my arms. With a quick thrust I am on my back and he is on top.

"I think I can handle you. Just don't you forget who the alpha is in this relationship and don't think you'll get away from me this time."

I groan as I feel my ribs being compressed. "Whatever."

"What was that?!"

"Yes, Sir..."

Michael leans in and kisses me ever so gently

"And don't you forget it."