A gay story: Failing Upward Ch. 20
Author’s note: To those who were afraid that I’d kill Sid– be not afraid! I love them both too much to see them separated.
Find below three alternate endings. I’d always planned to write a fourth, where Wes would sacrifice his life with Sid so that Sid would be alive and well, but as I said before, I became so attached to them that I could never write such a bittersweet ending.
Thank you to all who have commented and followed Sid and Wes on this journey. I know there were times when comments got rough with readers wondering and asking where this was all going and if I had some vision for an end. I hope those that stayed with this see now that I did. Thanks again.
I hope to add a few more stories here soon. I also have some one-shots to add for Sid and Wes.
Love you all.
el
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Alternate Ending A: The Light
Les and Uncle Dan were beside me. I cradled Sid’s head in my arms. My tears wet his face and mine. So cold, so cold. Then he gasped.
I clutched him to me. I’d been so afraid, so afraid that I’d wished him mortal too soon. But I should have know he wouldn’t die. He wasn’t like Shackleton. Sid was all light.
I buried my face his neck and sobbed with joy.
He wet lashes fluttered open.
“Is it over?” he asked.
I nodded and kissed his forehead then hugged the stuffing out of him. We were home.
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“Is this another wrinkle?” Glenda said, digging through her vanity. “God, where did I put the Oil of Olay? Could you be a dear Wes and help me find it?”
It was difficult at first. Glenda worrying about laugh lines and crows feet, and Uncle Dan complaining about arthritis in his joints and the crick in his back. I blamed myself, considering that the passing of Old Father Time was part my fault. Sometimes I thought that maybe they did know that I was the cause of their suffering– that’s why they complained so much around me. As I helped Glenda look for her personal fountain of youth, I remembered what Sid said to me just last night:
“Stop beating yourself up for that, they’d never experienced it up to now, so of course they were going to bitch more. It’s part of life. It’s going to happen to us someday. And beside, you know She wanted it this way.”
He was right about Mica. I tried being selfless, but sometimes I just had to revert back to thinking I was the center of the universe.
Glenda had invited us to dinner tonight. I’d noticed a sharp decline in her culinary abilities since “the incident in the garden” (the term that Sid and I now use for that day). It took her much longer to prepare with a poorer result. Still, she cooked a heck of a lot better than me. Sid still had her beat in that department though.
I followed Glenda to the dining room then to the kitchen, helping her by carrying the chicken to the table. She called, “Dinner’s on.”
As we sat around the table, I had to laugh. Les looked so happy in love. Glenda smiled at him, knowing the reason for the light in his eyes. She didn’t care. She liked Smith.
Uncle Dan reached for the mash potatoes then the gravy, grumbling about the lumps in both. The old grandfather clock struck seven times.
It was a good evening.
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I went to work the next morning at the flower shop. Nothing like walking up the steps and smelling the sweet mixture of orchids, daisies and stephanotis. I could hear Mr. Keller whistling as he watered the greenhouse number one out back.
Alan came in late. Didn’t even give me shit as he went out to help Mr. Keller finish watering. I could have sworn Alan was whistling “Everything is Beautiful” along with Mr. Keller.
The phone rang.
“Good morning, Keller’s Flowers, Wes speaking. How may I help you?”
“Um, I don’t know… My boyfriend got up this morning and left for work without waking me. I didn’t get a morning kiss and hug. Now I’m thinking maybe he’s lost interest in me. You think that might be the case?”
“No. Not at all. In fact your boyfriend told me he didn’t want to wake you because you looked so sweet and cuddly all scrunched up hugging that pillow with the soft light of morning kissing your forehead.”
“All that flowery talk makes me wonder if he’s a florist like you.”
“Hm-m, could be. He also told me to tell you that if he would have woke you before he left he would have ended up late for work.”
“I see.”
“Yes, and– crap the other lines ringing. Have to go. Bye!”
“Bye.”
“Good morning, Keller’s Flowers, Wes speaking. How may I help you?”
“Sure can, but I don’t think it would be appropriate for phone sex right now. Let’s say I pick you up for lunch.”
“Sure,” I said. We both laughed. “See you at 12:30. Miss you.”
“Miss you more.”
I walked into the backroom, put on my smock and smiled. God I loved him.
I shoved my hands into the front pocket of my comfy old smock. So what if it made me look gay–
I was.
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Alternate ending B: The Story
“Wake up Mr. Grant, your boy friend is here.”
Beatrice the big night nurse sure had a lot of nerve. My boyfriend. My wanna be boyfriend maybe. Sid walked in the door looking at me with those eyes. Yeah. Those eyes. The eyes that made me want to crawl under the bed just to get away. They were so beautiful– for a guy. Not that I would notice something like that. Or the cute way his eye was twitching right now.
“I hate the hospital,” I groaned.
“Brought you these,” he said. Don’t know how I could have missed Sid holding a dozen red roses in a vase. Must have been distracted somehow.
“I’ll leave you two alone,” Beatrice said, winking at me at she closed the door behind her.
My cheeks were burning. What the hell did she know anyway?
“Sorry about your car,” Sid said. “Guess that llama did it in. Anyway, you’ll be ok, that’s what’s important.”
I nodded. Sid turned and set the roses on the table next to the window. As he bent over to straighten roses, I rolled over so I could see him– I mean them– better.
“What about the card?” I asked. He took it off the flowers and brought it over. Sid sat on the edge of the bed and handed it to me.
“I’ve thought about this for a while,” he said. “I’ve got something to tell you, but I want you to read the card first.”
I knew what was coming. Shit. He was going to finally tell me. My heart started pounding. My faced got hot. Why did this matter so much to me? I opened the card, it read:
I have to tell you a story– I know it will sound crazy, but I can prove that it’s true. When I’m done, if you want me to leave I will, but I want you to think on it before you go deciding what’s what, Okay?
I looked up and nodded. Then he told me the story of Mica and Blake’s poem. Through the pain killer and a few sips of ice water, I listened without interruption.
I didn’t say a word. Just nodded and frowned. It was all too fantastic to believe, but I did. I knew it was all true.
At last he finished and I laid there quiet, staring at my feet. Sid reached out and squeezed my hand.
Next to my bed was the note I’d left in my car from the three yellow roses I delivered at the Lancaster house– all written in ones and twos. I’d tried reading it before hitting that llama. I didn’t need to know binary. I knew it– “To see the world in a grain of sand…”