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Memories are nasty little creatures. They have a habit of sneaking up on you when you are most vulnerable. Like a loan shark, they wait patiently until you're trapped somewhere; then, they pounce. My memories came for me as I lay in a hospital bed.

Last night, my son, Mark, came out to us. It wasn't exactly by choice, but when my wife cornered him, he proudly stood by his boyfriend, held his paw and said 'I'm gay.' Seeing such courage made me feel like an absolute coward. He had the guts to do something I never did.

My worst fears lived through my son that night when Donnah attacked him. I tried to pin her down, but ended up having my arm and one of my legs broken in the process. Thankfully, Mark and his boyfriend managed to get away. As for Donnah, she'll go to prison soon.

Now, I lay here in bed remembering my own trial from so many years ago. Just like Mark, I was cornered by my parents and asked the same question. I stood there, next to my boyfriend, looked them in the eyes... and lied.

'Warren and I are just friends,' I told them. 'Whatever made you think I'm a queer?'

They weren't convinced, so I took it a step further.

'He might be a fag, I don't know, but I certainly didn't catch anything from him.'

Warren walked out of my house that night, and out of my life. There were no tears, no fighting; just a sad look in his eyes as he bid me a quiet good bye and walked away. I didn't sleep for days after that; the decision gnawed at me and weighed me down like a lead overcoat. I walked through life on autopilot, ignoring my friends, neglecting my girlfriend and making my parents very suspicious.

When they shared their suspicions with me, I lied again; what else could I do?

I decided to prove to them how straight I was by taking my girlfriend to prom and then fucking her brains out in my father's car.

The questions stopped after that; at least from my parents. My inner voice, however, was more active than ever. It gnawed at me until I barely knew who I was, so I decided to shut it out. I began overloading myself with work, taking as many classes and as many extracurricular activities as I could. After college, I married Donnah and had a son. That little cub, whose deep blue eyes reminded me so much of Warren's, was the only thing in my life that made the voices go away. I could look at him and say 'See, it was worth it!'

As for Warren... I never did find out what happened to that fox; I only hope that he found the happiness he deserved.

***

Donnah's trial went as expected. Everyone testified against her; in the end, her lawyer had nothing to go on, and she was found guilty. As tough as it was for me to stand in front of the court and testify against her, it was only tougher for Mark. He was very close with his mother, and her actions from the other night left a permanent impact on him. I was not surprised when he vanished right before his testimony. Once again, it was with Arden's help that he stood up and did what needed to be done.

A month passed... our lives had normalized - or as much as they could have. For whatever reason, it didn't take me that long to adjust. Sleeping in bed alone, just me and Mark at dinner; I guess I really didn't love Donnah that much to begin with - or at all.

The phone rings, bringing me back to the dinner table. I stare down blankly at the pork-fried rice in front of me, still untouched, and sigh.

The phone rings again.

"I'll get it." I rise from my seat and limp over to the counter. The caller ID reads 'UNAVAILABLE'.

"Hello?" I hold the phone against my ear, expecting another telemarketer.

"Mr. Heeley? It's Harry Wheeler, the PI."

"Yes, I'm listening." While at the hospital, I had a lot of opportunity to think and decided that the time had come to make things right. I hired Harry to try and find Warren, but haven't heard anything from him... until now.

"I found him." Harry sounded very proud when he said it. Either it took him a long time to find Warren, or he wanted to make it seem like it did.

"Where?" I do my best to sound calm, but the nervous excitement bubbles over.

"He actually lives right here in town." I freeze momentarily; right here in town? All this time, he's been living right under my nose.

"He's a high school teacher, actually." Wheeler continues after a pause. "Mister Warren Fresto."

"Warren Fresto." I repeat the name; so it was really him.

"Fresto? Is it from school, Dad?" I look over at Mark; he's watching me, his muzzle turned quizzically.

"No, it's-" I break off. Could Mark actually know Warren?

"I'll call you back, Harry." I hang up before the fox has a chance to reply.

"Who was it, Dad?"

I sit back down across from Mark, debating whether or not to tell him. My initial intention to come clean quickly dissolves. "Oh, it's just a friend of mine," I lie quickly and easily. I'm used to it. "We were talking about old classmates. Do you know a Warren Fresto?"

"Yeah, he's my history teacher. I didn't know you guys went to school together."

"Yeah, a long time ago." At this point, I regret having told him anything. Now, he'll ask questions; now, he might slip and mention me to Warren. "He probably won't remember me," I add, hoping to put the conversation to rest.

"I could ask h-"

"No, no." I cut him off. He's clearly suspicious now, but I just couldn't take the chance of having Warren find out before I was ready. "We- er... had a fight. Didn't part on the best of terms."

"Oh, alright." He nods slowly. It's pretty obvious that he still isn't convinced. I feel like a coward again. Mark shared everything with me, and I can't even tell him about a guy I used to like... used to? Shit, who am I kidding? I wouldn't be going crazy like this if it was all a 'used to.'

We spend the rest of dinner eating quietly. It was nothing special to begin with - just some take-out. Now, I don't taste anything at all. Thoughts of Warren make everything else fade to incoherency. I catch Mark looking over at me multiple times, but he remains silent. After dinner, I offer to clean up, hoping that menial physical tasks would be enough to give my thoughts a rest. Mark helps me put the dishes in the sink and stands around behind me while I wash them.

"Dad, I think you should talk to him." He finally speaks up. The plate I'm washing slips form my paws and lands in the sink with the distinct sound of broken glass.

"Whom?" Acting like an idiot probably won't help, but I try it anyway.

"Mr.Fresto. Warren. You liked him, didn't you?" My boy's figured it all out. I feel like a heel for not telling him. Normally, our roles would be reversed - him liking someone, and me prying him for answers. I feel like a little kid who just got caught lying to his parents.

"Yes." I put the last plate on the rack and turn around to face him. "Look, Mark... I-"

"I won't ask anything else, Dad." He just smiles at me. "I'm not one to give relationship advice, anyway."

"Thanks, Son." I pull him into a hug while trying to figure out what to do next. Maybe Mark's right... maybe I really should just take the leap and talk to Warren. Finally, I make my decision. "I'll talk to him."

"Okay." We part our embrace.

He leaves me to clean up the leftover food and goes downstairs to his room.

I proceed slowly, still getting lost in thought every few minutes.

What happens now? I've finally found him; should I confront him? If I confronted him, would he even want to talk to me?

I can't answer any of those. It's like an itch I can't scratch; I wanted to end it, I wanted to find a way out, but I didn't even know where to begin.

Frustrated, I put the last of the food away and go upstairs.

With nothing else to do, I wash up and hit the hay.

Sleep comes slowly. Whenever I get too close to that coveted dream state, thoughts of seeing Warren flood my mind, jarring me awake. I try to push them away, but this only makes me concentrate on them more. Conversations with him play out in my head; I try every possibility, but always end up having to explain myself... Why did I come back? Why do I deserve a second chance? The plain and simple answer is: I don't. Fortunately, I have plenty of excuses to put off my visit; I have work all week, after all.

Several hours after first laying down, I finally drift off.

***

The alarm rings far too soon.

I fumble for the snooze button while simultaneously trying to cling to the last shreds of my dream. I find the former, but the latter slips away without a trace.

After several minutes of resisting the inevitable, I finally get up.

Mark's already gone to school by the time I get downstairs. I heat up some waffles in the toaster and call it a breakfast.

As I cram the last of the waffles into my muzzle, the phone rings.

Who the hell's calling this early in the morning?

I walk over to the counter and check the caller ID: 'WORK'.

"Hello." I pick up the phone, fully expecting to be lectured by my boss about something I forgot to do the day before.

"James Heeley?" It takes me a few seconds to recognize the secretary's voice.

"Yes?"

"Hey, it's Maria. We've had a bit of a mold problem in the building. The place is on lockdown for the next few days; you can take the day off. I'll email you the schedule for the next few days." Well, there goes my excuse to not visit Warren.

"Thanks." I completely fail to hide my disappointment.

For lack of anything else to do, I bid her goodbye and hang up.

I spend the rest of the day watching TV and trying not to think about Warren.

I fail miserably. It's just like all these years ago; everything seems to remind me of that fox. All the commercials just happen to be fox-themed, all the songs on the radio are about love. I give up on trying to entertain myself and end up falling asleep on the couch.

I wake up around half-past two. Unable to think of any other excuse to put off my encounter, I grab the car keys off the coffee table and head to Mark's high school.

On the drive there I again try to make up some sort of script to follow when I come muzzle to muzzle with the fox; nothing comes to mind. Absolutely nothing. This scares me quite a bit; if I can't think of anything to say now, how bad is it going to be when he's standing just a few feet away from me?

Caught up in my dilemma, I almost miss the turn to the school. My car screeches to a sudden halt as I slam on the brakes. Fortunately, there isn't anyone behind me, sparing me the added bonus of a car accident on this wonderful day.

By the time I pull into the parking lot, all the buses and most of the cars are gone. I walk through the double doors and run straight into a large bear.

"May I help you, sir?" He looks at me impassively while I try to come up with an excuse. I kinda feel like a high school kid again, caught wandering around during classtime without a hallpass.

"I need to talk to W-Mr. Fresto." No lies there. "It's about my son's essay." Okay, maybe just one.

"Very well." He seems to have bought it. "Just register at the main office, please."

"Thanks." I smile at him and walk away as quickly as possible.

The main office is easy enough to find; I hurry to fill out the visitor form and misspell my name twice. The deer behind the counter watches me with a faint hint of suspicion as I scribble my name and rush outside.

Halfway out the door, I realize that I have no idea where I'm going.

"Uh...Which room is Warren Fresto in?" I ask, turning around and gracing her with a sheepish grin.

"Let's see..." She scans her computer for several seconds before finally coming up with the right entry. "Room 224. Second floor, on the left."

I nod thanks and make my way upstairs.

The room is easy enough to find... unfortunately.

I stop at the door, and panic takes over again. Ice-cold water floods my veins, propelled by my ever-faster beating heart. I want to turn around, run away and never come back. I mean, why bother, right? I've lived so many years without him, why stop now?

But the voice in my head pushes me onward. I place my paw on the knob and ease open the door.

***

I freeze again as the door opens to reveal a red fox. My red fox. He's sitting at his desk, correcting papers. He must not have heard me come in because he doesn't look up. I take this time to study him; he's aged slightly, but he's just as beautiful as I remember him. That slender muzzle, those beautiful eyes. I hold my breath, trying to make that one moment last as long as possible.

"I'm a bit busy right now, can-" He finally looks up. His eyes widen, and he drops his pen. We spend what feels like an eternity just staring at each other. I push myself to say something, anything, to break the terrible silence, but only succeed in slightly opening my muzzle.

Warren's the first to recover.

"James?" His whisper is barely audible. He probably feels the same way I did when I first saw him - like he's in a dream. Like all those years that separated us just melted away, leaving us standing on the porch of my house for a final goodbye.

At last, I gather enough coherency to speak. "Warren, I-" My tongue goes numb; I don't know what else to say.

"What... what are you doing here?" I see those familiar tears welling up in his eyes.

"I came to see you." My own vision starts to blur. I try to blink back the tears, but it's too late. In this one moment, all the regret that I've been suppressing inside spills out. Like a bursting dam, it floods my entire body with a sense of dread I haven't felt in twenty-five years. I pray for a chance, just one chance, to go back, to tell my parents the truth, to walk out of the house, holding paws together in the face of an uncertain future... just the two of us.

"Why?" His voice is shaky and weak. A single tear trickles slowly down his beautiful, russet cheek.

"I just want to talk." I don't even try to keep my voice steady. I want to do so much more; I want to wrap my arms around him and never let go, to kiss him like the first time we kissed, to never be away from him again. But instead, I just stand there, hoping for a miracle.

"Why?" That word again. It frustrates me more than anything. I don't know why! I thought I'd run away from all this, but the second I came out, all my high school problems came flooding back. The voices that I thought I'd silenced with reason were keeping me awake, gnawing at me... just like before.

"I-"

He cuts me off. For once, I'm grateful. "James, you disowned me, let me walk away!" He's standing up and shouting now, tears coursing freely down his cheeks. "It's been twenty-five years! I've finally found a balance in life. Why did you come back now!?"

He realizes the magnitude of his emotional outburst and sits back down.

"My son came out to me." I fight back the lump in my throat long enough to speak. "He did something I didn't have the guts to do all those years ago. He made me realize just how stupid I've been. Seeing him and his boyfriend happy together... Warren, it made me see just how wrong I was." Those last few words cause me to break down completely. "I don't want it to end like this, Warren." I stifle a sob; a fresh veil of tears obscures his lovely form.

He stares at me some more, sighs, puts his papers into a worn messenger bag and walks in my direction. His beautiful blue eyes meet mine, and I recognize the expression. It's the same expression he held when he walked out of my life all those years ago. I want to tell him this, to beg him for another chance. A small sob escapes my half-open muzzle, but the words never come.

We stand just a foot away from one another for several heartbeats before he speaks again. "Well, I do."

Those three words knock the breath from my body. It takes all my concentration to keep myself together.

Before I can muster up a reply, he's gone.