Page 41 of Full Service

It felt like my feet were glued to the ground and I couldn’t take a step backward even if I tried. I didn’t want to leave. I wanted to sort things out, to talk things through with the man I’d really come to appreciate as…something. But the look in his eyes broached no argument, and I couldn’t stand here in the snow forever, much as I might want to.

“I’ll be back tomorrow morning,” I said. “I will make this better.”

“Sure,” Macsen said before turning away and walking back towards the rear of the garage. The urge to run in after him was overwhelming but if he didn’t want me there then I couldn’t force his company.

I forced myself to turn away from the garage and walk away, finally letting the first couple of tears drop from my eyes. Before I could lose my composure completely, I took out my phone and dialled Uncle Prentis.

“Hey,” I said. “I could really need your help. And a sofa to stay on.”

???

December 14th

The snow fell down in thick flakes across the windows, and I pulled my blanket up against my chin. It was at least a foot in depth outside, and the roads into Hiraeth would be completely impassable by car or on foot.Fuck this,I thought, and rolled over to block out the world.

???

December 15th

It was still snowing. Uncle Prentis, Beca and I sat around the table and played cards all day. Even the phone signal was out, and some of the village was without power. I thought about Macsen, and hoped he was doing OK. I probably survived on about twelve cups of tea a day, as Prentis hadn’t bought coffee since Uncle Llyw died.

We looked through the old photographs of him and Uncle Llyw then, going all the way back to the 1970s. We laughed ourselves hoarse at how uncomfortable Uncle Llyw looked in pictures out on Cardiff’s gay scene and both of us cried at some of the more tender, private pictures they had of themselves. Some of the photos were torn and faded. Some had splashes on them, like they’d been cried on more than once. And I started to have an idea.

???

December 16th

Thinking of Macsen was fucking unbearable all the time, but at the least the snow was starting to lighten up. There was little sign of a melt though, and there were only so many fucking card games we could play. We talked - about the weather; “bloody snow” - about Beca’s house; “almost done” - about politics andabout the latest films on Netflix. One thing I made sure we didn’t talk about was me.

The biggest problem with being so constantly preoccupied with the grumpy bastard who lived in the garage was his absence. And how natural we’d started to be around one another. I knew he wouldn’t be starving to death because I’d done a weekly food shop a few days before. I knew he’d have plenty of clothes because I’d washed them and he’d dried and folded them as we talked about the next big shooter game coming out for the PlayStation.

???

December 17th

“Find me a bloody shovel,” I said to Uncle Prentis. I couldn’t be here much longer. I spent the day pushing at the snow on his driveway. After hours of work, I surveyed the lie of the land. I might’ve cleared the driveway successfully, but unless I could somehow shovel out the mile of country lanes leading to the garage, I didn’t have a hope in hell.

“Cuppa?” asked Prentis from the doorway.

I looked back with a resigned smile and threw the shovel to the ground. “Sure thing.”

***

December 18th

Finally, the snow seemed like it was beginning to melt, and I’d had time to think on things. And what I needed to to do make things right. But I had to talk it through with someone first. Someone who’d always been there for me.

???

December 19th

I trudged my way through the mixture of slow and slush that lay on the ground, mixed in with the mud and grass and not half as pristine it had looked just a couple of days before. I had a bouquet of yellow roses in my hand, just like he liked. Had liked.

I knelt down by Uncle Llyw’s grave, just one of many in Hiraeth’s church cemetery and unremarkable from the rest.

“Hey, Llyw.” I laid down the flowers on the grave and brushed some snow and ice from the lettering.Llywelyn Prentis-Jones. Hard worker, rugby coach, adored by all.

I snorted despite myself. It said a lot that my uncle would be bloody thrilled that his epitaph was so basic.Hard worker. He was, and had always instilled in me the value of hard work. And Uncle Prentis had instilled in me the value of finding joy in life. They had been quite the team, raising me once my mother had died. Never once faltering.

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