The Last Stand of Haviland Dinwiddie

Chapter 19

By Dabeagle

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Tension about my father slowly drained from us like a clogged drain. My mother was back to not going out of the apartment, but she was still talking to Daphne's mom, who did come to our place, so I think that was good for my mom. I still had thoughts about that night, and there didn't seem to be anything particular that would cause it.

It wasn't like if I saw a hammer, I thought of it. Or seeing blood or a noise. Instead it would creep in in a quiet moment, though like my bruised ribs, it was growing easier to tolerate and easier for me to remind myself that I didn't have to like it, but that it was self-defense. I think, though, there was a part of me that did like it. A part that liked getting even. A part that liked striking back after having been struck so often. A part that liked Rigby feeling like I'd protect him, that he felt he knew how far I'd go for him.

It was the same part that felt some satisfaction that he'd never hurt me or my mother again.

I might have felt differently if I'd been caught. Maybe if I were in a cell I'd have wished I'd found another way. I think there is always that standard people set because death is final. I understand it, and I believe in it, to a point. But in the end, after a few weeks to work through things in my head, I'd reached a temporary peace with my actions, partly because it wasn't something I felt I'd have to do again.

Two weeks later I gave in to Rigby's desire to come out. I didn't want the attention, but it was important to him, and I wanted to give him any happiness I could. He had me drive us up the the falls, where it was still fucking cold, and he gave me my repaired bracelet. He had me stand behind him with my arm coming up to put my hand on his chest, so people could see his necklace and my bracelet sparking in the cold light of winter. I nestled my face into him, and he posted that with the tag #loved.

Our friends saw it first. Daphne and Tony essentially said it was about time and started talking about a new movie night. School was a bit rougher. I had a run in with, of all people, Gordo.

“What the fuck, Bro?” he asked me, getting uncomfortably close.

“Back up,” I told him, unintimidated.

“What the fuck did you do to Rigby? He wasn't like that before.”

“Jealous? Well, you missed your chance, Gordito,” I told him. “But if it makes you feel any better, you're a shitty excuse for a friend, and I hope when Mari gets pregnant her kids don't have tentacles.”

And that's how I ended up in the office for fighting. It wasn't the last time. We were no longer under the radar or just dealing with the shrieks of the coven. Now it was every insecure boy in the school, everyone who saw an easy target and those who are just haters. It was tiring, and it was up and down, but things stayed good between us, and that was really all I cared about. Yes, we had Daphne and Tony, and I was growing more and more to appreciate and respect them as people – the way they deserved.

The thing is, Rigby had become the center of everything important to me. Rigby wanted to come out, so I did. He wanted me to hold him, let him go, get him coffee, kiss him until we couldn't breathe – I was like a genie. His every wish was a command to me. I became consumed with everything Rigby, and over the course of the next month I began to change.

I was more confident as a whole. I no longer had the idea that my father may find me hanging over me. Yes, I still had concerns about being caught and punished, but they seemed to be far away – something Hav had seen to, probably many times. Rigby slowly broke down my body shame issues. He said that once he'd started, being with me really wasn't hard. He didn't have to work at loving me; he'd just had to open himself to the idea.

That's next level rare, and I know it. I feel it in my bones. I feel it boiling in my chest whenever I hold him, whenever I kiss him. I think it's really uncommon when you have something that's truly special and you're smart enough to recognize it and treat it with the respect it deserves, and I wanted to be that smart and that respectful.

For Rigby's part...he was Rigby. He was funny. He pushed my buttons gleefully and held my heart gently in his hands – metaphorically. He's not a psycho, and I'm still alive. He loved me, and I could feel that even when he wasn't with me, and when he was with me he reminded me he loved me, when he wasn't trying to aggravate me.

Winter was slowly releasing us from its grip, though not without a fight. Rigby and I kept going in to work, always wondering how things were still going with Hav gone, but not wanting to bug Sandy, who'd taken his death very hard. We'd all gone to his funeral, and it...was like saying goodbye to a favorite uncle or grandfather. He'd had wisdom and grit, and he'd extended his hand to people that had badly needed it. I don't know about the other things, the shady things that get whispered. In my book, Haviland Dinwiddie was a good man, and I was fortunate to have known him, and I hoped I'd learned from him.

We walked into the store, bell tinkling to announce us. Rigby was telling me about how I'd need to wear more revealing clothes in the summer, and I was arguing against it more out of being contrary than true belief. I was sure it would be challenging, but Rigby wanted it so.... Sandy called out to us from the office, and we went back to see her.

“You two arguing again?” she asked with a smile. “I swear, you're like an old married couple.”

“I don't see a ring on my finger,” I said, smiling at Rigby.

“Don't worry, you're getting one,” he said dismissively. “Now let Sandy talk.”

“I-”

“Shh! Rude! Sandy's talking!”

I rolled my eyes. “Sorry, Sandy. You were saying?”

She was laughing at us, that smoky, rough sound that was unique to her. “Come on. I have something to talk to you guys about.” She led us into the back of the building, though a door next to the tool rental counter that I hadn't really noticed before. We climbed a set of wooden steps to another door, this one locked. Inside we found ourselves in an office with filing cabinets along one wall, a ductless heating and cooling unit on the wall above them, and a desk with papers on it. A photo in a frame held a picture of a young man with an older woman seated next to him.

“That was Hav and his mother,” she said as she sat down behind the desk and asked us to sit. We took the chairs in front of the desk. I think both of us were wondering what was going on.

“I never knew this place was up here,” Rigby said, and I echoed him.

“This was Hav's office. There was a lot of daily business done downstairs, but this is where all the paperwork was filed, where he'd go for a quiet moment, and where he'd drink sometimes instead of going home.”

She shook her head and let out a smoky chuckle.

“Did he...like I never saw him drunk or anything.”

She shook her head. “He wasn't. At least I don't think so. He'd drink a bit a few times a year. He had a lot of things buried in him from the time with his father and others that made life hard for him.” She sighed. “I've known Hav for about forty years. He was a teddy bear of a man, but you better believe the bear part was still relevant.”

Rigby and I glanced at each other, and then back to her as she spoke again.

“When they told me about the fire, I was...in shock, I think. They told me that...that the second floor had collapsed. His skull was crushed. It was just...too much to believe.” She looked up from her hands. “Hav always had a plan in place. When he died, he had legal documents in place that handed things here over to me so the business could keep going – making jobs for the people that worked here and paying its bills. Gil – Father Blevin – is the executor of his will, and he met with me.” She let out a breath. “It seems Hav had made a deal to sell the land his house stood on, but not the store. Turns out the big box everyone was so worried about isn't interested in opening a store here; they wanted to build a distribution warehouse. I guess Hav saw their plans, worked out a deal, and accepted they'd make his house a parking lot rather than excavate things and pour a slab.”

I immediately thought there was a reason for that; likely more bodies were to be found there.

“But then yesterday I got an envelope in the mail.” She tapped a manila mailer before her and then began to withdraw its contents. “I saw this and thought...what in the world?” She showed us a postcard from someplace called Donna, Texas. “I thought that was weird. Donna was his mother's name.”

I leaned forward. “What else was in there?”

She smiled at me. “Hav always said you were smart.” She looked at Rigby. “I bet you're not more than a step behind him.”

“That's from Hav,” Rigby said, nodding at the envelope. “He's alive!”

“Shh, shh,” Sandy said waving her hand. “Keep it down.” She unfolded two sheets of paper. “I'm supposed to burn this, but I wanted you boys to hear part of it.”

She cleared her throat, which changed nothing, and began to read.

“I have been standing up for women and children in abusive situations ever since I can remember. From the time I put my father in the ground I knew that there were others like him out there. I've helped some, couldn't save others, and had to bury more than I'd like to recall. It takes a toll on a man. I knew this one would be my last stand.

“There are a lot of reasons why, but I won't bore you with the particulars. What I do want, is for my last stand to have not been for nothing. Those boys touched something in my heart and I know they're not out of the woods. This town will still try to bury them; pull them down and hide their light from those that need to see it. In some ways, they're the best of us.

“So I make this request of you, Sandy, she of the large... Well, I'll just skip that part. Son of a bitch,” she said, cleared her throat again and started up. “I want these boys in school. To that end, use the account number... I won't bother with that, I know which one he means,” she said before continuing. “To pay for their schooling and supplies. It's not my preference that they stay in town, but if they do, the apartments should be made free to them. When school ends they need to leave this town, if they hadn't already, and never look back.

“There will always be those that seek to grow darkness, to tend it like a diseased flower. I want those boys to grow, to reach for the light and cast their own glow on the world that it might be a better place for everyone. Make sure they have jobs at the store for an honest way to make ends meet, but they may need a bit here and there. Make sure you threaten Rigby with firing at least twice a week; he's a good boy but he loves that kind of thing, so don't disappoint him.”

“He's in Mexico, and he still wants to fire me!” Rigby said with a laugh.

“And finally, tell them both I'm proud to have known them. Tell Harvey not to worry about anyone ever finding him; he went up in smoke.” She closed the papers. “He goes on to say many unflattering things about me, the way he always did. Unfortunately, I can't give it back to him. There is no return address or I'd – not that it matters!” She grinned widely. “Officially...he's dead. I don't know what he calls himself these days, but it's probably obscene somewhere.”

“I'm...I can't believe he did that for us,” Rigby said, looking at me.

I shook my head, widening my eyes. “I...I'm...I don't know what to say.”

“Well. He was very fond of you boys and Daphne. Her college was covered through his will, and a few other kids that have worked here but are in college or doing something else were remembered financially.” She tilted her head. “Hav fired plenty of young people that worked here over the years. If you weren't a good person, he could sniff it out. I guess you three kids were his last, though, and it made you extra special.”

I laughed to myself. “I bet I know why he went to Mexico.” I glanced at Rigby and then to Sandy. “Wasn't Raul's family down there?”

“Well. I'm sure if he did that – and it sounds like him – we'd want to keep that to ourselves.”

I nodded at Sandy, not breaking eye contact. “He trusted Rigby and me with a lot. I'm not saying anything but good things about Hav. The college is great, but the best thing is that he's actually okay and off on some adventure.”

We didn't get a lot done on our shift that night. It wasn't really busy customer wise, and the plants for the spring season hadn't arrived yet. We talked to Daphne, all about college and making sure we were all together. I told them my plans had to start with my mom and whether we could afford an apartment elsewhere for school or if we needed to stay here – which also depended on her comfort level. The trooper had put a scare into her, but with each day my father didn't bang on our door, she grew more confident.

We finally closed up the store for the night, and Rigby and I went up to the apartment. Mom was dozing on the little couch in front of the TV, but woke as the door closed. She'd saved dinner for us and decided to turn in. After dinner we got ready to chill in bed.

“You know, it feels like we should be practicing things.”

I glanced at him. “What things?”

“Like...I want to practice getting your clothes off you.” I hesitated, and he continued. “You're not his, E. You're mine. I want to look at you. I want you to want me to look at you.” He peeled off his shirt and tossed it aside, then pushed his joggers down.

My mouth went dry. “Rig....” I don't think there was enough moisture in my mouth to form more than a single syllable. No abs, not ripped, not six foot something – he was all Rigby, and he was so fine to me.

He tossed his socks aside and then pushed his underwear down, tossing them aside and standing before me like I'd never seen him – with just his necklace on.

“So. I want to see you with just your bracelet on, E.”

I took in unsteady, short breaths. I stood up from the bed, no longer surprised that he'd caused me to get hard. I was...amazed and excited to watch him plump up, his manhood bobbing in time with his pulse. He was right. I'm not my father's. My father doesn't own me, and it was time I gave myself over to the person that did.

The shirt was the hardest. For so long being uncovered felt like a sin. I held it in my fingers for just a moment before dropping it and revealing my torso to him.

He nodded at me, and I felt encouraged. “I can help if you want,” he said, his voice sounding raspy.

My heart going triple time, I wondered about how long it would take me to get the courage to do what he'd done. Opting for jumping in rather than slowly stepping, before I could paralyze myself with overthinking, I pushed my joggers and underwear down and stomped my feet to remove them. I stood still as his gaze wandered over my exposed body. He ran a hand over his chin and mouth.

“Damn, E.” He stepped closer. “Can I touch you?”

My voice wheezed and squeaked. “What was that you said to me once? I'm not saying you're stupid, but you're not smart?”

I reached for him, and he came willingly, our bodies touching in ways that left me both dry-mouthed and somehow salivating.

“Come here, E. Kiss me like you mean it.”

The End

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