Brian looked at me with a blank stare for a few seconds. "What about me?" he finally asked.

I sat up straighter and pulled my hand off of his arm. "You said that both of your parents were alcoholics."

"Yeah, and?" he asked, looking a bit angered and impatient.

"Well, people who had an alcoholic parent are more likely than the average person to become an alcoholic themselves. Your odds go up, since both of your parents were alcoholics. Many studies have shown that alcoholism is genetic."

This public service announcement was brought to you by Justin Taylor.

Brian coughed before looking down at his watch. "There's still about an hour left of the viewing. The old man's not in the ground yet, unfortunately."

His avoidance of my inquiry spoke volumes. I decided not to press him further as he turned the key in the ignition and pulled away from his parent's house.

We rode back to the funeral home without saying another word to each other, the stereo playing a rock song that I didn't recognize being the only relief from the silence. After getting back and pulling into his previous parking space, Brian cut the engine.

The two of us sat in the Jeep as we both stared at the funeral home in front of us, Brian tightly gripping the steering wheel. The bottle of Beam was still between his legs. If I had not been there with him and already questioned his drinking habit, I imagined that he would have knocked back more of it to find the courage to go inside.

Brian made no move to get out of the car and after several tense seconds, I asked him, "Are you going in?"

He took a deep breath, exhaling slowly before letting the wheel go. "Well, I'm already here, so I may as well."

Before we could get out of the Jeep, Miss Peterson and the group that had accompanied her began making their way out of the building.

"Shit," Brian whispered. He placed the whiskey bottle on the floor board and ordered, "Don't get out until I'm inside."

Brian grabbed his keys and got out of the Jeep before quickly walking over to his friends.

"Hey, where are you bitches going?" I heard him say.

"We got tired of waiting for you," Michael answered him.

"And Mel needs to get home so she can put her feet up," Miss Peterson added.

"You guys all promised that you wouldn't make me go through this alone," Brian said in a stern voice, sounding very much like a teacher scolding a student.

They all collectively dipped their heads in guilt before turning to go back inside, Michael putting his arm around Brian's slender waist before ushering him in.

I waited a few seconds before getting out of the Jeep. I reluctantly got back into my mom's Mercury Grand Marquis and pulled out of the parking lot.

I understood why Brian didn't want his friends to see me getting out of his Jeep, lest they see him fraternizing with a student. It was bad enough that I had shown up at the viewing uninvited.

I continued on my way home as silent tears began to run down my cheeks. I had spent most of the day feeling sorry for Mr. Kinney, my beloved English teacher who had just lost his father, and I was now crying for Brian, a man who came from a horrible home and drowned his sorrows in booze. I'd bet my CD collection that he often attempted to find solace at the bottom of a bottle and I was now worried about the real possibility of him hurting himself after drinking too much.

********************

I had absolutely no interest in going to school after my alarm clock woke me up the next morning. I went through my classes in my head and realized that I would have no tests or anything to turn in that day. I also recalled my mom saying over the weekend something about a luncheon being held that afternoon at the YWCA for the local breast cancer charity, which she co-chaired.

Mom normally had breakfast on the table by the time Molly and I had gotten up and dressed, so I went downstairs and walked into the kitchen in my pajamas. She had six pancakes cooking on her electric griddle and there was a pan of turkey bacon frying on the stove.

"Hey, Mom?" I said in miserable tone. "I don't think I should go to school today."

"What's wrong, honey?" she asked as she walked over and placed her hand on my forehead.

Oh, over-protective mothers...

"It's my stomach," I said, trying not to end up in the doctor's office.

"Are you feeling a little queasy?" Mom asked.

"Uh-huh," I groaned dramatically.

"Aww," she said as she gave me a light pat on my back. "My poor baby. You go back to bed and I'll call the school for you and tell them you're sick, okay?"

"Okay," I said as I turned to go back upstairs.

"I wish I could stay home to take care of you today, sweetheart, but I have that charity luncheon to go to. It'll take up most of my afternoon, since I'm going to help clean up when it's over. Then I have to pick Molly up from school and take her straight to the dentist and then to her Girl Scout's meeting. We won't be back until six-ish."

I smiled widely, since my back was to her. "Oh, that's okay. I'll be fine here by myself."

********************

I called Daphne to relay my lie about why I would not need her to drive me to school that morning. Once Mom had finally left to go to her luncheon, I quickly dressed in a black sweater and slacks before walking to the city bus stop at the end of our block. A cold front had come thorough during the night and I could see my breath as I waited for the bus to come by. I was wearing my heavy winter coat with a black hat and gloves, but I was still shivering slightly in the wind.

Although winter was still more than a month away, snow flurries began to fall as I rode to the cemetery where Jack's obituary indicated he'd be buried in. His funeral had begun at ten and it was too late for me to go by that point. It was around eleven by the time the bus dropped me a few blocks from the cemetery, which was a couple of miles from the funeral home.

I walked around the sprawling grounds for a good twenty minutes as I looked around for an open grave with the usual machinery to lower the casket, and I found one just as a line of vehicles with the tell-tale orange flags on the roofs began to make their way over. The procession was led the black hearse and a black limo as the snow started falling more steadily.

I didn't know how many other burials were taking place at the cemetery that day and I hoped that I was at the correct grave. I sighed in relief when I saw Brian's sister, her two sons, and Mrs. Kinney exit the limo. I saw that Brian had driven himself in his Jeep, which was towards the end of the line of vehicles.

My relief was quickly replaced by fear as the casket was pulled out of the back of the hearse and carried to the gravesite by the pallbearers, who I guessed were Jack's friends that had been at the visitation the previous evening. I ran over and sat on the ground behind a large tombstone several feet away as the family made their way over to the grave.

Although I had cut school specifically to be there for Brian's father's burial, I suddenly felt like I was intruding. Still, I really had no choice but to sit behind some random person's tombstone as a priest gave a short sermon at the gravesite. I could distinctly hear Claire shamelessly wailing throughout the sermon.

"Let us pray," I heard the priest say a few minutes later. "Dear God, as we stand beside this open grave, in this silent city of the dead..."

Since I knew everyone would have their heads bowed during the prayer, I took that opportunity to look around the tombstone at the burial service. There were a few people with umbrellas open over their heads and Brian was standing alone under one on the other side of the closed casket from his mother, sister, and nephews. I did not see any of his friends that had been at the funeral home during the visitation and I figured they all had to work, since it was a Tuesday morning.

I noticed that Brian was the only one in the group who did not have his head bowed during the prayer, and he looked around absently until he met my eyes. His upper body jerked in surprise at seeing me.

Shit!

I quickly ducked back behind the tombstone as the priest ended his sermon with the customary "Amen."

Although it was quite cold out, I began to sweat a bit as the casket was lowered into the ground and everyone began making their way back to their cars. I silently willed Brian to go back to the Jeep without coming over to me, but he clearly did not posses telepathy.

"Justin, what the fuck are you doing here?" Brian asked as he walked over to stand in front of me.

"Uh..." I said as I stared at Brian's legs, physically unable to look up at his handsome face.

"Get up," he ordered me.

I closed my eyes for several seconds, wishing with every fiber of my being that I could just disappear before standing up. Luckily Brian was about six inches taller than me, so I stared straight ahead at the knot in his very nice blue and white striped tie.

"Why aren't you in school?" he asked.

"I... I'm playing hooky," I confessed. "My mom called in sick for me."

Brian scoffed. "You're supposed to do something fun when you cut school, not go to a stranger's burial. Haven't you seen Ferris Bueller?"

I finally looked up at his face and gave him a guilty smile. "I don't have a Ferrari. Fuck, I don't even have a piece of shit car, so..."

He chuckled. "How did you get here, then?"

"The city bus."

"Come on," he said as he grabbed onto the sleeve of my coat, dragging me over to the Jeep.

"Where are we going?" I asked after he turned the engine over.

"I'm taking you home."

"No," I said rather forcefully. "I don't want to go home. I... I want to stay with you."

Brian looked over at me as we waited for the cars in front of us to move. "Well, my mom is expecting me at the house, since everyone's meeting there."

"Okay," I said.

"Did you tell anyone at the funeral home last night that you were my student?"

I thought back. "Yeah, I told your mom I was."

Brian sighed. "Well, I'm sure there will be plenty of liquor at the house. Hopefully she'll get so smashed she won't remember. If anyone else asks, you're just a friend. If they comment about how young you look, just laugh it off."

We eventually made it over to the house that Brian took me to the previous evening, although we were forced to park down the street because of all the other cars that had made it there before we did.

We walked into the house where a woman that Brian informed me was his dad's sister was collecting everyone's coats. After she took ours, Brian and I made our way into the kitchen. As he had previously suggested, there were several bottles of wine and booze on the counter and Brian poured himself several shots of whiskey into a glass tumbler. He gave me look as if he was daring me to comment about the drink in his hand as he passed me a can of Coke that he had pulled out of the refrigerator.

I didn't say anything but a quiet "thanks" for the Coke. There was a fruit and veggie tray on the table and I loaded up a small paper plate to satisfy my hunger, since in my rush to leave my house that morning I didn't eat anything.

It seemed that everyone was standing around the Kinney home as they socialized with each other, so Brian and I were able to stake a claim on the loveseat in the living room.

"I'll be back in a minute," Brian said before getting up and placing his drink on the coffee table before leaving the room.

I quickly chowed down on the relishes and luckily Claire came into the living room with a platter of finger sandwiches a few minutes later.

"Would you like a sandwich?" she asked everyone as she walked around the room, still bawling her eyes out.

"Christ," Brian grumbled as he sat back down beside me. He placed a bowling bag between us and unzipped it. "Don't buy her bullshit tears; she's milking this for attention."

I looked over at him curiously.

"Claire is a cunt," Brian whispered. "Dad couldn't even stand her. Mom can't stand her. Her husband couldn't stand her. Her fucking kids can't stand her."

Speaking of the kids, Brian's nephews ran into the room and made a beeline for him. They each noticed the bowling bag.

"What's in the bag, Uncle Bri?" one of the boys asked.

"Grandpa's head," Brian said as he reached into the bag. "Wanna see?"

The boys both screamed and took off running as Brian pulled a green and blue bowling ball out and sat it in his lap.

"Would you like a sandwich?" Claire said to me after walking over to us.

I reached out and took a couple of sandwiches, not caring what was on them. Brian waved her away without taking anything.

"Excuse me, everyone," Claire announced. "Now that we're all here, I think it would be nice if we all shared some memories of Daddy."

Brian sighed loudly beside me.

Claire looked at the priest sitting in a chair near us. "Father, would you start?"

"I must confess, I didn't know him well," the old man said. "He never came to mass."

"Oh," Claire said, looking around the room nervously. "Um... anyone else?"

Everyone looked at each other as they hoped someone would speak up.

Several seconds later, Brian cleared his throat.

"I'd like to share a memory... something we can all treasure. Like the night that he found out that you were pregnant with me," he said as he glanced over at his mother, who was standing a few feet away with a glass of red wine in her hand. "He told Mom to put on her most beautiful dress, took her to the most expensive restaurant in town, poured her a glass of bubbly..."

Brian chuckled before he continued. "Oh, get this - he leaned over and he said, ‘Joanie, you're getting yourself an abortion, because I don't want another fucking kid.'"

There were a few gasps heard around the room.

Brian then looked at his sister. "Claire, do you have anything that you want to share?"

Claire gasped out a couple of breaths before running out of the room.

The gathering understandably began to thin out after that. Mrs. Kinney soon excused herself, thanking her guests for coming before going upstairs.

Several minutes later, I looked over at Brian. "Shouldn't you go upstairs to see if Claire is alright?"

"And why the fuck would I do that?" he asked as he put the bowling ball back into the bag and placed the bag beside the couch.

"Well... she seemed really upset by what you said."

Brian tossed back the rest of his drink. "Fine, but you're coming with me."

"Why?" I asked as he stood up.

"Because you're making me go up there, now come on."

I stood up and followed Brian up the stairs. We came to a closed door, where we could hear Claire sobbing in the room behind it.

Brian opened the door without knocking and we found Claire lying on the bed. I assumed this had been her old room, since there was flowered wallpaper and a framed picture of a younger Claire in a cheerleading uniform on the wall.

She turned her head when the door creaked open and she immediately jumped off of the bed and threw herself at Brian.

"You shit!" she screamed at him as she began beating on his chest with her fists, pushing her brother into the wall. "You shit!"

Without even thinking, I grabbed Claire and pulled her off of him.

"Calm down!" I yelled at her.

"Who the fuck are you?" she screamed at me.

Brian shoved Claire away from me and she fell onto the floor. Brian then took me by my hand and pulled me out of the room. Claire got up and followed us down the stairs, screaming at Brian about what a piece of shit he was. He found our coats in the dining room, and after he grabbed the bowling bag we walked out of the house without another word.