Hate Me Closer (Phan)

Chapter Eleven

Dan's birthday was the best day he'd had since December. Even as he sat in the car with his grandma, his suitcase in the boot as they drove along back to the home near Birmingham, he was thinking about the afternoon he spent with Chris. It not only gave him the motivation he needed to get through the term days, but afterwards, it gave him the confirmation that school wasn't that bad.

He turned to Chris before they slept through their last night of First Form, with their end of year exams out of the way and home in sight. He whispered to him, mumbling, "Life's not that bad, really. Is it?"

And Chris had chuckled back, replying, "No, Dan. It's not."

Dan's grandma gave an amused sigh in the car seat beside him, looking at his smile, "Someone on your mind?"

"Oh my god..." he laughed, his broken voice echoing around the sound, "No! Well, Chris. I was thinking about my birthday."

"Chris, hey? Is he the one you called at Christmas?" she asked, giggling along with her grandson.

"Yeah. And did most of my homework."

"Daniel!" his grandma warned playfully.

"I had a bad year." Dan shrugged, slouching in relief in his seat.

"I know you did, Dan. But, it gets better, yeah?" she patted her grandson on the knee as they continued the hours-long drive towards her suburban house.

***

They stepped out of the vehicle, with Dan moving to the boot to drag his suitcases out the back and along the stone pathway up to his home. His grandma was unlocking the front door when she turned to him asking, "Did you continue practising the piano?"

Dan was admiring the house and the symmetry of the front four windows on either side of the door. The roof was slanted, and he believed he'd be able to climb on it from how low it was on the left. He imagined sitting up there, stargazing under the night sky. The front wall was stone, but around the other walls of the detached bungalow they were a deep, red brick. He believed his grandma bought the house new. He followed his grandma inside, nodding as he confirmed, "Yeah, I did."

"Well I'm sure I'll be hearing some of that, then." she paused before she put the kettle on, "Coffee, my boy?"

"Yes, please." he agreed, placing his suitcase down by the doorway and sitting in the kitchen with her.

"My goodness, little Daniel is drinking coffee now." she giggled, "I know you just got out of school, but what GCSEs are you taking?"

"I have to do the three sciences, maths, English language and literature, French. But then I chose geography, art, drama obviously, and music." he took the mug from his grandma and began sipping on the hot drink.

"Well, I know what all of those are. Say, Daniel, I have an old friend who's now president-or-whatever of a performing arts college in America. It's a big one, can't remember what it's called, but they get you into the movies." she watched her grandson's smile explode on his face, so she continued hopefully, "If you want, I'll get you a word in and leave him your e-mail, yes?"

"Thank you." Dan nodded, smiling.

"It might not get anywhere, but-"

"Worth a try." he finished up the last sips of his drink and stood up, "I'm going to unpack." he pointed, leaving himself into the backroom where he slept.

His grandma was probably the best thing that could've happened to him, despite having a school that sympathised with his situation. She wasn't a parent to him and she never would be, but at fourteen years old, he wasn't convinced that's what he needed, especially with his actual parents being killed. He needed a friend, and someone who he could trust, and with them hunched over in their tiny home at the even tinier table, and a game of Scrabble on the table, Dan decided his grandma was just that - even if he hated the board game he was being forced to play.

"I know you don't like it," she'd say, "but it's good for you and your brain. And, I like it."

"I'll always complain, Grandma, but if you want to play I never won't." he would reply, taking the board out of her games cupboard and laying it out for them. It barely fit on the table.

***

Dan was sat at his piano with his fingers over its keys and the melody playing aloud. His grandma offered to pay for him to take his exams, because she once taught the instrument and knew he could pass a grade two, but he refused, not wanting to put a level on his hobby. He didn't understand the competitive world; asides from becoming number one on his COD local game, he didn't like competing. It was unnecessary stress, in his opinion.

She was sat on his bed, her notebook in hand as she sketched the room around her, listening to the songs her grandson played and biting her tongue when a note was played wrong. She cautiously spoke up, "I was wondering if you want to visit your parents' graves?" she asked.

"I thought they were cremated." Dan kept playing the piano.

"We buried their ashes. You don't have to, but you didn't go to their funeral and I wondered if you wanted to say goodbye."

"I said goodbye in the hospital..."

"You don't have to." she whispered, "I wanted it to be available if you did, though."

He didn't reply that day, but two weeks later as they were sat in the living room with plates of macaroni and garlic bread, Dan turned to her, "Can I...you know...can we go to my parents'...?"

"Of course." she nodded, "How about I take you up tomorrow? They're twenty minutes away."

Her grandson swallowed the spit in his throat and the water in the corners of his eyes. He nodded, quietly smiling to her as though he was saying "thank you", but he felt he'd begin to cry if he tried to speak.

"You've got church tomorrow, though." he pointed out as it was Saturday today.

"I'm sure someone else can serve the drinks and biscuits, Daniel. You're more important."

Dan smiled at his grandma to slyly say thank you, without forcing the words to his lips. She put her plate down, wrapping her arms around the growing boy, not letting go until he could wipe the tears from his eyes.

***

They spent the twenty minutes' drive on the warm Sunday morning in absolute silence. Dan didn't want to speak and his grandma wasn't going to force him to. They pulled up at the cobble-walled cemetery, passing through the open gate and walking along the path. It wasn't a well-kept area: the grass was overgrown and the older tombstones were weathered down, but it was peaceful. Dan felt as though he was walking into a place of respect, much like the feeling of walking into an old church.

He followed his grandma by her side until they came to a patch of dirt with two small slabs of stone placed on top. She didn't need to say anything; her grandson could read the names.

He knelt down after standing still for a while, not finding the words to say, so instead, he brushed his fingers along the engraved writing, letting the water fall down the sides of his face. He didn't go to their funerals. He was suggested to, and he was given the time of school to attend if he was to go, but he couldn't shift the guilt that if he kept his mouth shut and didn't distract his mother as she drove past the field of horses, they might still be alive.

"Why didn't I die?" Dan asked, standing up again with his eyes stuck to the stones.

"You just got lucky, I guess." his grandma shrugged, "Their heads hit against the front boards, I guess yours hit the seat in front." she sighed, "You don't believe in God, I know, but I do believe it was his work. You're supposed to be here, Daniel. I'm not sure why, but you are."