I’m on the bus to Josie’s. It’s the day after we found out that our father died several months ago. I’m alone. Not because Rashid left me, no. We’re still good. Although I wouldn’t have blamed him. I mean, we’re basically still in our rainbows and pink glitter phase of our relationship and we already had more existential crises than normal couples have in their entire lifetime. But he’s a trooper and sticking it out with me.

I called Josie this morning to give her the news. Her reaction was basically the same as mine. Quiet, not knowing what to think or feel. Overall, a sense of relief that he’s gone, mixed with guilt because he was our father after all and you’re stupidly conditioned to love and respect your parents no matter what.

Josie asks if I want to come round so we can talk in person, then she remembers I’m not alone at the moment. She suggests that Rashid can come along, but Rashid and I both agree it probably isn’t a good idea. I stupidly miss him already. Miss his hand in mine, his arm around me, and the way he never just touches me – his fingers are always moving, brushing my biceps, rubbing soothing circles into the space between my thumb and forefinger, tracing the curve of my waist.

It just wouldn’t have been really fair on Rashid to drag him along only so he would sit somewhere in a corner while Josie and I have our talk. Mal has taken the kids to his parents as well to give us some space. So with much regret I leave my boyfriend and the limited time I have with him back in my apartment. Just another item on the list of things why I hate my deceased father.

The house is eerily quiet when I arrive. Josie’s in the kitchen, and we just silently hug. Then she presses a mug of fresh coffee in my hand, and we sit down in the living room. I’m on the couch, and she’s on the armchair opposite. The Christmas tree isn’t up yet, but in so many ways it reminds me of Christmas five years ago, when Josie saved me, not for the first time.

We don’t talk for a while, just drink our coffees, until Josie breaks the silence.

“So he’s really gone, then.”

“Yep,” I confirm. “Official records and all. Bas said they had a request to look into his whereabouts, but he didn’t say who made the request. He also didn’t mention how Dad died, but I’d be surprised he was sober.”

“Are there any papers we need to sign?” Josie asks. “About the house?”

I didn’t even think about that. Of course, the house is still in Franklin’s name. “I’ll call Bas on Monday. I’m sure he’ll help us. He’ll know what to do.”

After a moment I add, “And the house is yours, Josie. I don’t want it.”

Josie resolutely shakes her head. “Absolutely not, Wendell. The house belongs to you as much as it belongs to me.”

But I stand firm. “I don’t want anything that belonged to that bastard.”

“Then let me pay you for your share at least.”

“I’m not taking your money, Josie. No way. Don’t even think about it!”

She probably sees my determination in my face and gives up. For now. I know my sister.

She sits down next to me and takes my hands in hers. “How’s Rashid?”

“Fine. I hope. Probably spoiling Bruno rotten with cat treats.” I look down at my hands, entwined with my sister’s. “I miss him, sis. It’s so stupid. I only saw him an hour ago, and I already miss him.”

I look at Josie and see her smile. “My baby brother is in love.”

I groan and bury my face in our combined hands. “I almost told him last night. That I love him.”

She frees one of her hands to comb through my hair with it. “Why didn’t you?”

“Isn’t it too soon? We only started dating a couple of months ago.” I glance up at her doubtfully.

Josie shrugs. “When you know, you know. Mal says he loved me from the day he met me.” She shakes her head. “That man has a ridiculously romantic streak in him.”

“But you love him for it, don’t you?” A smile spreads across her face that tells me more than words could say. I’m happy for Josie. She deserves this.

“Do you think he loves you too?”

I shrug. “I don’t know… maybe too soon for it?” Josie keeps running her fingers through my hair. It’s such a familiar gesture. “I remember Mama used to do that.” I say. “Just like you’re doing now. She used to sing for me too.”

“Fais dodo, mon petit… I sing it for the boys too. And Soso when she’s sick.”

After a pause, she goes on: “Sometimes I think about Mama in that old rocking chair on the porch. You were probably too young to remember it, but sometimes you curled up under her huge quilt in the morning, still half-asleep, and she’d hum those old songs. Most of the time you’d fall asleep against her chest, and she’d stay there and hold you while she had her coffee. You were such a cute baby.”

I grin sheepishly at her.

“Don’t give me that look. Yes, you’re still cute!” She laughs.

“You hungry?” she asks after a while. I nod, and she gets up to go into the kitchen. “How does avocado on toast sound?” She calls after rummaging inside the fridge for a while.

I join her, leaning against the doorframe. “Perfect.” I watch her toast some bread and then mash an avocado onto the slices. She adds some tomato jam on top.

“I hate him.” I don’t have to say his name. She knows who this is about. She looks at me with sorrow in her eyes. “I don’t know if you’ve forgiven him for what he’s done, but I can’t.”

“I know, biscuit,” she says using our Mom’s nickname for me. She doesn’t do it very often. “I haven’t forgiven him either. I just learnt that for my own sake, I need to put it behind me. Make my peace with it.”

“But he was so much harder on you than he ever was on me. I was just the girl, but you were his son. His legacy.”

“And what a legacy I turned out to be.” I snort.

She gives me a sharp look but doesn’t comment. That’s the difference between her and Rashid.

“I tried to protect you as best as I could, but…”

“Don’t, Josie… ” I plead. I don’t want her to feel guilty, too. He hit me. It wasn’t her fault.

She hands me a plate with my sandwich, and we both sit down at the kitchen table to eat. Wordlessly, she gets up and gets a Diet Coke from the fridge and places it in front of me.

“I don’t think I ever thanked you properly for everything that you’ve done for me.”

I almost choke on my sandwich. “Whatever have I done for you?”

“You came back with me when I was pregnant. I could see how much it cost you. But you stayed. You were with me when Soso was born. You took care of us after the birth. And you were just a kid yourself. I didn’t want you to go back. I was hoping you’d stay forever. I would have made it work for us, financially. But I knew you couldn’t bear to be in this house with all the memories.”

I shrug and I know she’s right about everything she said.

“Do you remember… oh, you were probably much too young… you were, like, what, three, maybe four? You tried to save a baby bunny you found abandoned under the porch. Thing wasn’t even weaned, and there you were, swaddling it in one of Mama’s dish towels like it was your own baby.”

She chuckles, but there’s a catch of tenderness in it. “You’d sneak lettuce from the fridge and try to feed it by hand. Kept whispering to it, telling it you were gonna be its big brother.”

“Did it survive?”

“No, it died one night. Mama and I buried it secretly in the garden behind the camellia bush. Mama said it was a good resting spot, shaded and quiet. And I marked the place with a popsicle stick cross. You were so upset when you realised it was gone, so we told you his Mama had come to pick it up again.”

I rub my palm across my face. “Barely three and already a failure.”

Josie swats at my arm lightly. “Stop it! It would have died anyway. You still tried to save it. You try to save everyone, but you forget about yourself.”

Time to change the subject. “How did you find me anyway? When you were pregnant? You just popped up in front of me one day out of nowhere.”

She stares at the table for a while, then she gets up and pours herself an orange juice from the fridge. I can tell it’s something else that she tries to store in the furthest corner of her mind. But she sits down again and starts talking.

“The day you disappeared, I thought you were just hiding at one of your mates. Dad threatened to beat you again, and you thought it was better to stay away. It wasn’t until the next day when school called and said you didn’t show up that I started to suspect something was seriously wrong. I meant to ask around among your friends, but then I realised I didn’t even know who your friends were. I was too preoccupied with my new boyfriend to notice what was going on. Remember Norman Foster?”

I roll my eyes. How could I forget? Nerdy kid with glasses coming to our house with a bunch of daisies he stole from his mom’s garden, trying to impress my sister. I know I’m a geek, but geeks are cool. Nerds are just awkward.

“Honestly, I think I was more in love with his mom’s cooking than him… Their house was always so warm and peaceful. I just wished I could have moved in with them. I still let him do it…” She trails off.

“Does this mean we both lost our virginity in the same year?” I can’t help but giggle at the idea, and it earns me another light slap on my arm.

“Eww! Gross, Wendell!” But she starts giggling herself and lifts an eyebrow. “I guess so…”

She turns serious again after a while and continues: “I tried to find you – I really did – straight away. But no one could tell me anything. Then I met Troy and… well, you know how that ended.”

“He knocked you up and left.”

“He kicked Dad out of the house first, for which I was really grateful. At first. Until he turned out to be not much better. So there I was, alone and with a baby in my belly. I was scared, Wendell, so scared. I just couldn’t do this alone. I was running out of places to find you. The police weren’t any help. So in my desperation I went downtown and started asking around there. About a kid your age, giving them your description. I tried different versions. I said, Have you seen this homeless kid? Have you seen this kid begging? No one knew you or wanted to tell me. Finally, I went to Covenant House, and they said they knew about a kid that could be you and who recently started hustling. They were pretty tight-lipped, but I overheard them saying something about ‘that kid they had to patch up the other month’. They didn’t know where to find you, but when I asked on the streets about a hustler your age and with your description, that’s when people pointed me in the right direction.”

It shakes me to my core to hear her say that. I always thought I hid that part pretty well from her. That maybe she suspected but didn’t know for sure. I guess I was actually fooling myself more than her.

“You knew… all this time?” I ask, my voice almost inaudible.

She nods slowly, tears welling up in her eyes: “Why do you think I always packed condoms in your duffel bag, you big doofus?”

I can’t believe she always knew but never said a word. She once called me a fucking rent boy when we had a fight and she kicked me out of the house. That probably should have been a clue for me.

She takes my hand again and squeezes it.

“I know you only did it to survive. I could see how much pain you were in. I wanted to help you, but you wouldn’t let me. I hated what they did to you. I could see it. The night I took you home, and you were so weak you could hardly stand on your own two feet. You had to lean against the doorframe to keep upright. I had to undress you and wash you. I could see all the scars and bruises. On your back, your legs, everywhere.”

She’s sobbing now, and I hide my face in my hands. I’m so ashamed for all the pain I caused my sister.

She pulls my hands off my face.

“None of it is your fault, Wendell. None. They hurt you. You didn’t do anything wrong. If anything, I failed you. It was my job as your big sister to help you, keep you safe, but I didn’t know how. I’m just so glad someone else did, and you got out of there. I’m grateful I still have a brother. I lived in fear of losing you for so long. And now look at you. You got a job, your own place – and a boyfriend that you love! Look at how far you’ve come. I couldn’t be a prouder sister.”

I walk over to her side of the table, kneel in front of her and bury my head in her lap. She leans over me. We’re both crying now, and we stay huddled together until our tears run out.

Once we pull ourselves together a little, Josie grabs our drinks and takes them outside. I follow her, and she shows me the place behind the camellia bush where she and our mom buried the baby bunny. After twenty years, the makeshift cross is gone, but Josie still remembers. She puts her arm around me and leans her head against my shoulder. I’m her baby brother but still a few inches taller than her.

Something occurs to me: “Out of curiosity, how long have you known I’m gay?”

She just shrugs and says, “How long have you known I’m straight?”

Hmm. Fair point.

I stay until Mal and the kids return from Covington. Soso is excited to see her “Lell”. She’s starting to drop the “Unkie” part, which makes me a little sad because it means she’s growing up. But she’ll always be my little princess, and I know I’d give my life for her if it means she never has to deal with anything Josie and I went through.

Mal gives me a lift home in the car I bought Josie all those years ago. I’m surprised it’s actually still going; it was such a crappy little thing when I got it and I could barely afford it. When Mal stops at my house, I can see Rashid just coming back from a run. He’s all sweaty and hot, but I still engulf him with my arms and kiss him deeply.

“Mhmm, not that I’m complaining, but if I didn’t know better, I’d say you missed me, Dupree.” Rashid murmurs against my lips between kisses.

“Don’t flatter yourself, Chaudhury.”

We’re interrupted by an almost shy clearing of the throat, which brings me back to Mal, who was watching us the entire time. Oops.

“Sorry,” he smiles apologetically. “Didn’t mean to disturb. Just wanted to say goodbye to my brother-in-law.”

He gestures towards me, and I finally remember some of my manners and make the introductions: “Rashid, this is Malcolm Turner, my sister’s fiancé, soon-to-be husband. Mal, this is Rashid Chaudhury, my… er…” Shit. What do I call him?

“Boyfriend,” Rashid finishes my sentence without missing a beat and extends his hand to shake Mal’s.

Mal looks between us, basically still glued at the hip, and smiles smug as a fox in the henhouse.

“I can’t believe I got to meet Wendell’s mystery man before Josie did. She will be so jealous.”

Rashid and Mal exchange some small talk before Mal is off again, but I hardly pay attention. It’s like something warm just lit up inside me, and I can’t stop smiling because of it. My boyfriend.

After Mal is gone, Rashid looks at me and sees me still grinning like a loon. He chuckles softly at my happy face.

“Is it because I said boyfriend?” He asks amused and puts both arms around me again. “Well, I could hardly say I’m the guy who loves to shag your brother-in-law every night and twice on Sunday.”

I giggle. “So we get to do it twice tomorrow?”

“Mhmm…” He starts trailing kisses down my neck. “I think we could do it twice tonight. I’m sure it’s Sunday already somewhere in the world.”

I grab Rashid’s hand and drag him upstairs. My father is gone. He can’t hurt me anymore. And I’m going to drown out every hateful slur he ever said to me with my boyfriend‘s laughter mixed with mine.