The Right Price

Chapter 13: Beloved Brother And Father

Tyler sat on his bed, staring at the mirror in front of him. He was still tired and confused. He could hear Amy getting things by the door as they waited for Clarks driver to come and collect them and take them to the airport. Tyler had only flown three times before in his life. Once was for trip he'd taken to Vegas to see one of his favorite comics and the other time was when he flew for the tour. Now here he was getting ready to fly out again to Ohio now.

His family. Good lord, his family. All week they had been texting and calling asking when he would be there, who was he staying with. He'd told them all that he would be there the day of the funeral and that he was staying in a hotel with his friend and boyfriend. Then that opened up another can of questions. Tylers family was like that. Kind of toxic. They expected you to call them with every life update and would be mad if you didn't, yet they would never call you. They'd just post it on social media and expect you to know everything.

Tyler didn't follow anyone but his brother and cousin on social media. He didn't care too. His aunts and other cousins also didn't approve of his career choice, that he'd moved so far from family, or literally anything else he did or believed. Most of them were all racist or just generally awful people. He stayed away for good reason.

But now, he had to see them. Well he didn't have too he supposed. He could just not go to Andrews' funeral. He wasn't a good father. He didn't deserve and he wasn't owed Tylers attendance, but Nathan had asked him to come. So he would.

He also wanted to go, at least a small piece of him did, because he wanted to see him one last time. Maybe tell him his peace. Tell him to fuck off. Tyler wasn't exactly sure why. He wasn't even sure what he was feeling. He thought he'd be fine with Andrews' death, but he just...felt. Tyler just felt. He couldn't quite place the feeling. Some of it was annoyance. Some was anger, but there was something else... was it grief? Mourning? No. Tyler lost love for his sperm donor long ago. He'd come to peace with his father's death long ago, the man who kept living was Andrew.

"Hey, the drivers almost here." Clark said coming into the room. "Okay." Tyler muttered.

"Come on, let's get out of this room. You've been in here a week." He outstretched his hand, offering to help Tyler up. Tyler took it.

"That's not true, I went to that open mic the other day." Tyler had gone to try out some new material and bombed. The first time he'd ever truly bombed. Most of his jokes were not jokes at all, just him saying how shitty of a person Andrew was.

"That's right, I forgot." Clark hadn't left Tyler the whole week except to go to work and even then he worked half days. Clark had truly been a rock in this time.

Tyler was still upset with Clark over the whole apartment complex purchase fiasco, but he didn't have the time or energy to address it at this time. He'd do it after the funeral though. If he had the energy anyway.

"I don't think I can go actually." Tyler stopped in his doorway, deciding he didn't want to go and deal with his family. He knew how'd they be.

"Why?" Clark asked.

"Because that fucker doesn't deserve it." Tyler felt anger bubble at the thought of what his family would do. They'd do the same thing they'd done when his grandmother had died. They'd all sing Andrews' praises; say he was looking down at us now with joy because he wasn't suffering anymore. The same way they had his grandmother. Tyler knew there was no way in any timeline or universe his grandmother was in heaven if it existed. She was a bitter, angry, racist woman who called any black or brown person she saw a slur. Even her own great grandchildren had not been safe from the prejudice she held.

And now his aunts and cousins would all say what a good man Andrew was, how hard a worker he was.

"Then we stay here." Clark took Tylers hand and gave it a squeeze. "We stay here."

"No, we should go." Tyler was conflicted. "I want them to look at me while they all talk so highly of that piece of shit." Then Tyler started to cry. He felt it now. The feeling he couldn't describe before. He felt it. It was loss.

"Hey, what's wrong?" Clark took Tyler into his arms and leaned down, resting his chin on top of his head.

"He's dead. He's dead for real now." Tyler started to sob as the walls he'd placed around his father's memory fell down. "That fucking bastard is dead. I can't believe that mother fucker..." Tyler didn't finish, he just kept crying. Amy could hear it from the living room, but she wasn't good with tears so she took a seat on the couch. Knowing it was the best thing she could do in this moment.

"I don't understand." Clark pulled back, looking down at Tyler. "I thought you said you hated him, didn't care if he died." And that part was true. Tyler hadn't cared, or at least he thought he wouldn't.

"It's not that he's dead." Tyler explained as he started to sift through the feelings in his heart. "I don't really care that he's dead because he's dead. I care that he's dead because now...now he gets off scot-free." Tyler pulled out of the hug, anger now replacing the sad feeling that had grown. "That fucking asshole gets to be dead and just...be dead. I lost. Now I'll never get what I fucking deserve." Tyler spat.

Clark looked at him confused not know what he meant.

"I'll never get the phone call that says 'I'm sorry son, I'm sorry for being an asshole. Sorry for choosing drugs over you and Nathan. Again and again, and again and again'." Tyler laughed threw tears now. "Ha! 'I'm sorry for never building your that bookshelf I promised when you were nine. I'm sorry for being a bad father, let me make it right'." Tyler fumed. "He gets to be dead and gone, living it up in some fucking afterlife while I sit here mourning the father he could have been."

"I'm sorry, I...I can't possibly relate to what you're going through right now baby." Clark tried to soothe and he meant well, but Tylers anger couldn't be tempered by even Clark at this point.

"Did you know that fucker wrote a will?" Tyler kicked a shirt that was on the floor. "Yeah, the guy who couldn't hold a fucking needle long enough to shoot up without shaking wrote a will. And he wants me to speak at the funeral. Give a eulogy." Tyler collapsed on the bed, wiping tears and snot from his face. "What? Does he think I'll, of all people, be kind. I hated him, and he had to have known." Tyler rolled his eyes and Clark sat next to him. "Unless he was so high when he wrote it he was living in some delusional la-la-land." He laughed now. Clark didn't know what to do, so he just sat there and was there for Tyler now. "You know he was actually the reason I wanted to be a stand up?"

"Really? How?" Clark asked now.

"When I was a kid, one of the very few good memories I have of him. He was teaching to ride a bike. He told me keep balanced and keep pedaling." Tyler swallowed the tears, the last of them had fallen for Andrew. "I told 'don't let me go, don't let me fall daddy'. And he said 'don't worry I won't. I promise I won't'. So he kept pushing me, then I was flying and I looked back and he was behind me, not pushing me anymore." Tyler drifted off into the memory. "He was crying. So I turned around to, went back to him and asked: 'Dad, why are you crying. Daddy's aren't supposed to cry'. And do you know what he said?"

"What did he say?"

"He said: 'I'm crying because you don't need me anymore. You're riding your bike without me, without the training wheels. My little boy doesn't need me anymore'. And I laughed and said. 'Of course I still need you daddy. You're my daddy. I'll always need you. I mean, whose gonna tuck me in and protect me from the monsters at night. Mommy isn't very good at it. But once I'm old like you I won't need you anymore though'." Tyler chuckled. "And then he laughed. He laughed hard. And it was then, that moment that made me feel good. Like I was supposed to do that. Make people laugh."

"Sounds like a sweet moment." Clark squeezed Tylers knee.

"How fucking cruel and funny though. That the man who couldn't tell you my middle name, or my birthday is the man responsible. The man I owe my career to, huh?" Tyler laughed deeply now. "Fucking cruel sick prank of the universe."

Amy knocked on the door frame. "The driver is here. He's loading up the bags now." She interrupted softly.

"Okay," Tyler cleaned his face again. "we'll be there in a minute."

*****

The flight had been smooth and short. Tyler napped, Amy and Clark watched a movie. The check in to the hotel wasn't as smooth, however. They'd double booked one of the rooms so Amy had to stay in Clark and Tylers until one became available in the afternoon. Tyler and Clark had gone to grab some food and meet with Tylers brother, Nathan. Nathan seemed to like Clark; Clark seemed to like Nathan. Tyler sat in autopilot the whole time.

The funeral was later that night, at seven. So Clark and Tyler had the whole day to explore the town of Adford, Ohio. The town where Andrew had been born and raised in. He'd apparently returned home to move into his parents' home after he divorced Tyler and Nathans mother, Laura. He'd lost his house because he wasn't paying the rent...he was buying drugs.

At least he wasn't a drunk too. Tyler thought to himself.

Tyler showed Amy and Clark the school he'd gone to before he moved to Texas, showed them the park he remembered teaching his little brother how to swing on a swing set at. He showed them the small apartment building he'd lived in. He didn't remember much as he'd moved to Texas so young, but as he drove around the town the memories came back to him.

"I fell and skinned my knee there." He remembered pointing out a sidewalk corner. "My uncle was babysitting me; he'd taken me down the street to a little deli or grocery store or something to get some ice cream I think."

"Oh look someone making a drug deal." Amy pointed to the other side of the street where two men were exchanging money and some form of drug. "Cute." She remarked.

"Downright sexy." Tyler agreed. "Turn here." Tyler instructed. Clark turned the wheel and then he was instructed to park. They got out.

"What is this place?" Clark asked.

"It's the place where I woke up." Tyler explained. "Where I realized my parents were only adults in title really." He looked around the small park they had pulled up to. "Nathan and I were on that jungle gym," He pointed out. "when I looked over to see Laura and Andrew snort something off of some guys hand. I don't know how I knew, but I did." He closed his eyes to bring the memory in front of him. "It was that moment that I was like 'wow, drugs in broad daylight and their kids ten feet away'." He cleared the memory away. "I always wondered after that why they needed drugs. Was it us? Me?" Tyler had gotten over it of course. Years of therapy had helped him realize he was not the reason his parents needed drugs. "No child is the reason for a parents addiction." Tyler repeated his therapists words out loud.

Clark came up and grabbed his hand, Amy grabbed the other.

"We should go, it's almost six." Tyler turned and head back to the car. "Funeral is soon."

*****

Tyler sat in the front row next to his brother and his wife on one side, Clark and Amy sat behind him. His mother Laura, who was only there out of respect for her boys, was to his right. She wasn't crying. Neither were Tyler or Nathan. Though Tyler assumed for all different reasons. His aunts eyes were puffy, and a few cousins too. Tyler recognized a few people who were friends of Andrews, but not many. He'd pissed off a lot of people, owed some money, the rest had died or just didn't want to come Tyler guessed.

"Are you okay honey?" His mother asked. She had gotten sober a few years back and was trying her best to be the loving mother, mend their relationship. Tyler was letting her. She was trying at least.

"Yes, I'm fine mother." Tyler repeated. He'd been asked several times now. His aunt Sarah had come to him earlier and asked if he'd like her to go over what he was going to say. Tyler had told her he didn't have any notes, he was just going to speak from the heart.

"Okay, well don't make any jokes." She had said. She didn't like that he was a comic at all. "You tell too many dick jokes, it's dirty, unbecoming." She had told him.

Fuck you Sarah, I'll tell all the dick jokes I want. He remembered telling her with his eyes. She'd seen it. Tyler didn't care. Aunt Sarah was the oldest and a fucking cunt. He and her daughter had bonded over how shitty both of their parents were. Nicole, that very cousin, sat across the aisle next to Sarah who was really racking up the 'oh god my baby brother is dead' sympathy. She loved nothing more than attention.

Nicole very easily could've been Gypsy Rose Blanchard, but that would've meant that all the attention would have been on her and not Sarah herself. God forbid that happen. Though, Tyler did have a small amount of sympathy for her. The oldest of seven, Grandma had to have ignored her feelings and needs and forced her to be a second mother to the siblings.

That sympathy dried up the more he listened to Sarahs wails though.

The priest was saying more words that Tyler was ignoring. He hadn't really listened to anyone's words. Almost everyone had come up to him and done the 'so sorry to hear about your father, if you need anything...'. He didn't need anything other than for this to be over.

Tyler was the next speaker and Sarah would close it out. It wasn't in the will that she was to speak, but seeing as she was the oldest and had organized the entire funeral she felt it only appropriate to speak. Tyler didn't care, but didn't want her to feel like she'd won so he stipulated she couldn't talk about him or Nathan in her speech. She'd begrudgingly agreed.

"And now, I believe Andrews oldest, Tyler, will be saying a few words." The priest snapped Tyler out of his thoughts and he stood. He walked over to the podium and looked out at the small crowd. Not the smallest I've ever performed for. Tyler joked to himself.

"Thank you father." He addressed the clergyman. "And thank everyone for being here for...Andrew." He wouldn't call him dad. This got a look from Sarah. Tyler looked over to the photo on the easel. It was a younger photo, of when Andrew still had his hair, skin wasn't falling off and his teeth weren't black and yellow from the drugs. To the left was a smaller display podium with an urn. The inscription read: "Andrew Harris; 1968-2022. Beloved brother and father." Tyler read aloud. Sarah had picked out the urn and inscription.

Tyler swallowed the lump and took one more look out into the crowd; Clark caught his eye and gave him a soft smile.

"I - I don't know why Andrew wanted me of all people to speak today." Tyler began. "Did he think I would be kind? Kind to the man that..." Tyler didn't know where to start. Then anger started to return, not towards Andrew but to the other speakers. "You know, you all said such nice things about Andrew Harris. 'oh, he was loving father. A hard worker. A good husband...'." Tyler scoffed. "I remember one time when he took me with him to haul some scrap metal into the dump. After driving across he told me to get out before we drove back across to get out. He said the extra three hundred pounds would be about fifty bucks." Tyler furrowed his brow in anger. "I was thirteen." He remembered even more awful memories. "Another time I had asked for some money to go to a school dance...he -ha - he told me I didn't need it because it wasn't like anyone was going to ask me anyway." Tyler laughed bitterly at the memory. "'Why would they?' He'd told me."

Tyler took a deep breath to calm himself.

"He was an asshole. And an addict. I've never understood why everyone says, 'don't speak ill of the dead'. Even if they deserve it more than the living. He made me go into a crack house once, when I was about oh fifteen maybe. Gave me a twenty and told me to make sure the dealer gave me the right amount. He said he couldn't go in because his leg was hurting. When I came back out short, he yelled at me and told me I was useless. Stupid. I was fucking fifteen." Tyler looked at Sarah now whose tears had been replaced by a look of anger. "How the fuck was I supposed to know what the right amount of crack was?" His aunt nearly stood up but Nicole held her down, Tyler sent her a telepathic thank you. He hoped she got it.

"But you know what, I'm not even mad at him for any of that anymore. I let it go a long time ago." Tyler admitted. "I am however still mad at him...because now...now he's dead. Dead and just the asshole father who abused and manipulated everyone around him." Tyler held back a tear; he wouldn't let another one fall for that man. "I also feel bad for him - no - actually. Not him. Us, me and Nathan. Because now Andrew never gets to change. Never gets to earn his way back into our lives. Meet our partners, grandchildren. He's dead and Nathan and I are left with the memory of a shitty fucking person. Left with the thought that none of us here, actually, were enough for him to get clean. Nothing we did, do, or could do were gonna get him to change. He's just Andrew fucking Harris, the meth addict." Tyler bit the words off. "But hey, at least now he's not suffering. Right?" Tyler spat, referring to all the peoples words had alluded to Andrew going to heaven and not hell where he belonged.

Tyler stepped away from the podium, his skin hot from anger. He walked past his seat and instead sat next to Clark who immediately wrapped his arms around him. He patted and rubbed his shoulders. "I love you." He whispered.

The priest got back to the podium and said a few more words then introduced Aunt Sarah who immediately apologized for Tylers behavior. She then began her own speech.

Tyler ignored it all. He just rested his head on Clarks chest, took in his smell. He truly didn't know if could've done this without him. Clark had been there the whole time. He hadn't said much. Just let Tyler exist, feel his feelings. Hold him when he needed it.

"I love you." Tyler whispered to Clark, then he stretched up and kissed him. Raising his hand to stroke his cheekbone. "I love you so much." Clark simply smiled down at him; gave him another kiss then squeezed him tightly as Tyler returned his head to Clarks chest.

*****

The funeral was over now and everyone was clearing out. Some people were hanging back to chit chat, share their memories of Andrew. Tyler stood with Nathan and their mother by the urn as people came by to say final goodbyes.

"You could've been kinder. He's dead." Aunt Sarah said, eyes burning with rage, as she came up to Tyler.

"He didn't deserve it Sarah." Laura interjected. "I know I'm not one to talk, but he was piece of shit. We went without food, power - during winter sometimes - so that he could buy drugs." She defended her son. "I was complicit, I only hope Tyler knows how sorry I am for my hand in the abuse. Now fuck off cunt." Tyler was shocked, Nathan too. They'd never heard their mother speak that way. Sarah fumed and scoffed, storming off somewhere else to cry and get sympathy. Tell the story of Laura the wretched bitch who called her a cunt.

"Damn mom." Tyler approved. "Thanks for that, but I could've handled her."

"You shouldn't have to." She squeezed her son. "And I do hope you know how sorry I am, how much I regret-"

"Mom." He cut her off. "We're good." Tyler squeezed back and his mother cried.

"He was two months sober." Nathan piped up.

"What?" Tyler and Laura asked.

"I arrested him a few months back." Nathan explained. "He was two months, one week, four days sober."