Didn't Mean to Love You

Chapter 11

 

Dick doesn't remember most of the week that his brother died. There's a gaping hole there that protects him, blocks it out, he's grateful for that. It's a blessing that he can only dimly recall the vaguest impression of the twisted, bloody, broken body that used to be his little brother, his lover.

 

He does vividly remember the last time they had sex. They'd been fighting, arguing about something, it was a rough, angry coupling. Dick wishes it was different, tender, gentle, something to cherish, but it wasn't. Things were too far gone at that point, there was too much tension building up to that terrible ending, that Dick really didn't see coming. He knew something was happening, he just didn't know it'd be that bad.

 

Why couldn't Beaver have trusted him? If he'd known, he might have been able to stop it, things could have turned out differently and that's what haunts Dick every night since Beaver's death.

 

Logan told Dick later, how he'd refused to be parted from his brother, how the coroner had to wrench Beaver's hand from his grasp. Logan said he'd flat out refused to talk for three days afterward, didn't eat either, just moped around Beaver's room in silence.

 

Dick does remember the funeral, it's the first thing he remembers after Beaver's “accident.” It didn't rain like it always does at funerals in movies. He remembers thinking that it should have rained, it was just too twisted that he was burying his brother on a sunny day. There wasn't a big turnout, apparently few people mourn murderers. Even his own father didn't show up. It was pretty much just Dick, Logan (who was really only there for moral support), Mac and the priest. Dick gave the only eulogy which was pretty much just bullshit, Beav would have hated it. He couldn't really say what he had wanted to say.

 

Dick can't really bring himself to feel too bad for the people Beaver killed, the way he sees it Beaver's demise pretty much evened it out. He just can't think of Beaver as a killer, because that's not who he remembers.

 

Sometimes he wonders how their relationship factored into it all. Was it just one more fucked up thing that pushed his brother over the edge? Dick can't think like that for long though, if he did he'd go crazy. Besides it was one of the happier times of his life and he refuses to regret it.

 

After the funeral, Dick heads straight to the nearest bar, barely pausing to rip off his stupid tie. When he surfaces two days later, he has the worst hangover and a tattoo. He almost laughs at the irony of it. It's like Beaver's getting his revenge from beyond the grave. He wonders idly what the coroner made of Beaver's tattoo.

 

Dick's tattoo is very simple, just the word Cassidy in a classy font right over his heart. Girls ask about that tattoo, but he doesn't say anything, it's none of their business and it's not something that he could ever really put into words. He keeps a copy of the naked picture of Beaver in his wallet as well as his brother's last yearbook photo.

 

He pretends to bounce back to his carefree, sunny surfer self, but most of the time he's just faking it. Dick's just biding his time really and when his time comes he knows there will be someone waiting for him. Sometimes it's all he thinks about, big sad eyes and a hopeful smile, delicate white arms welcoming him back, a voice saying, “Good to see you, bro.” It's like they say, call no man happy until he is dead. Yeah, Dick will be happy when he's dead, for now though he's just killing time.