(c) Andres Fragoso, Jr., 2017
Barefoot I stand over the edge of the pool. Water swells beneath waiting for my soul. I look ahead. My father cringes when he sees Kyle hold my hand. What is my father doing here? He places his hands in a circle around his mouth and screams. I’m sure he’s calling my name. “Jake.” I can’t hear him through the cacophony of the crowd. He runs towards me.
He looks angry. I’m certain that if there were a bat around, my father would use Kyle’s head as a baseball and hit a home run.
Kyles squeezes my hand in reassurance. “It’s okay. We can do this.”
Really? He doesn’t know my father. I’m a dead man. I won’t be old enough to go to the Saloon and have a drink with the man I love. “I love you. No matter what happens, I’ll always love…
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