Between Father And Son

There was one person that Clifford hadn't anticipated on seeing. His Father, Benedict. The man that had screamed at him to get out of his house when he was sixteen. Right after he had come out to him. That he wasn't his child anymore. And that if Clifford ever stepped one foot inside his home, he would hurt him. In ways that Clifford wasn't entirely certain of.

He was just focused on packing what little belongings he had in a trash bag.

This was around ten years ago. It was difficult and his Mother, Lillian, didn't help then. As she seemed to believe that he was going through a phase. Telling him that he would get over it once he had a baby in the future. These hopes were dashed once he got a hysterectomy and told her about it. Though, she didn't cut off contact with him. Just kept trying to make him be a girl before giving up about a year ago. After a couple of months after that, she had gotten into a terrible accident and died.

Now here he was in front of his Father after her funeral.

And there were absolutely no words that he could tell him. Nor, could Clifford begin to try to. Taking a deep breath, he headed to his car as quick as he could. Or at least he was going to. A hand on his shoulder made him pause and turn slightly to look at him. The look in his Father's eye made him feel horrified at first. Then he noticed just how sad he looked and still couldn't speak. Tilting his head to the side, his Father wordlessly motioned for him to follow him.

Clifford had the urge to just go to his car. Pretend that he hadn't seen his Father at all.

Then go home to his apartment and cry about his Mother.

But, he shook off this feeling and nodded in agreement. Following his Father down a trail that they had taken a years ago. It was one when his Mother was alive. Just a nice walk when they needed fresh air and to look at the leaves changing. He couldn't help but smile as he walked down the trail. Benedict at his side and the older man was trying to not stare at his dau-son. His only son. Amazed how much he had changed since the last ten years since he had seen him.

How in the Hell could he have missed out on a good portion of his life?

After he had told Cla-Clifford to never come back or he'd hurt him. That he would beat him into the ground if he ever dare set foot back in the house. His own stupid fear had made him so damn angry. Now look where he was. Lillian was gone and buried and he couldn't speak to his own child. And Benedict had no idea how to even approach the subject. As they walked down the trail that they had gone down years ago, he felt sick.

What do you even say in this sort of moment? Just how does one go about apologizing for such a terrible threat against him? Sorry just didn't seem to be anywhere near enough.

Benedict bit his bottom lip as he glanced over at his son again. Who was admiring the leaves like when he was seven. Eyes wide in happy wonder. He felt sick for saying such hateful things to him. But, he couldn't linger on that right now. A pity party wouldn't do either of them any good at that moment.

All he could focus on was trying to figure out how to repair what he broke.

As they walked down the trail, he noticed there was a bench. One that he and his late wife sat down on while Clifford played by himself. He gently nudged his son as he pointed it out. Clifford raised an eyebrow but seemed to catch on to what Benedict wanted. Walking over to the bench, they both sat down next to each other. Watching the sunset as Benedict desperately tried to think of words to say to his son. To comfort his only child after everything that had happened. What in the world could he say about it?

A warm hand touched his cheek and he jumped a little.

Turning slightly, he realized he was crying. Well and truly crying. And Clifford was wiping them off of his face for him. Like he had done for him when he was so much younger. There were tears rolling down Clifford's face as well. Which his son didn't really seem to care about as he sat there. Benedict felt the corners of his lips turn up as he reached up and wiped them. Nearly chuckling when his son touched his face as if he just noticed he was bawling for the first time. Smiling a little more, Benedict pulled his son to his chest. Wrapping his arms tight around him as he put Clifford's face into his shoulder.

Clifford froze for a second, unable to process what his Father had done.

Then wrapped his arms around Benedict as he felt himself cry. Unable to hold in any of his tears as he held onto him. Not sure of where this was going or if they could even speak to each other after this. But, he was just grateful his Father wanted to hug him at all.