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“This is where we take a stand… welcome to Falsetto Land.”
Mendel didn’t know what to say. He was, for once in his life, utterly lost for words.
In his profession, he dealt with loss every day. He sat beside hospital beds. He held hands. He delivered condolences. But never had it struck so close to home. Never had loss split his own family apart.
First, they lost Whizzer.
And with him, Jason’s smile began to fade. Trina’s quick wit dulled. Marvin’s soul fractured.
And eventually… they lost Marvin too.
Whether it was the AIDS or a broken heart was anyone’s guess by the end.
Mendel supposed it didn’t matter. What mattered was that Jason’s father was gone.
And now, somehow, Mendel was the closest thing he had left to one.
How could he possibly fill those shoes?
He couldn’t.
It wasn’t his job. It wasn’t right.
No one could replace Marvin.
He sat in the waiting room that day.
He held Marvin’s hand, and Marvin apologized.
Not for what he had done — but for what was going to happen. As if any of it were his fault.
It struck something deep in Mendel. This wasn’t something Mendel could fix. This wasn’t something anyone could fix.
He knew Trina had faith. She had optimism. But he also knew it was a mask she had perfected long before they met — the one that said everything was fine, that she was fine, even when she was unraveling inside.
He had sat beside her and watched her first love die.
Marvin died without the love he had spent his whole life searching for. But he died believing he would find Whizzer again.
Mendel didn’t believe in an afterlife.
But in that moment, he hoped he was wrong.
He hoped Marvin and Whizzer were together.
Happy.
Jason wasn’t.
He barely left his room now. When Mendel called his name, there was no answer. Mendel didn’t push. He would leave a plate outside the door, knock once, and walk away.
An hour later, he would pass by again.
And he was only slightly relieved when the plate was empty.
And what about Charlotte? Cordelia…
They had it worse than he did. They had lost their friends. Charlotte had been the doctor — she had understood the inevitable end. And she couldn't stop it.
He didn’t know much about their lives now. They had moved away. They couldn’t stand the memories.
The only time Jason left his room was on weekends, when he visited them. Because despite their need for distance, for closure, they would never leave him behind.
As far as Mendel knew — from Trina’s quiet updates — they had a dog now. And two cats.
A tabby called Marvin.
A tortoiseshell called Whizzer.
And as for Mendel… well, he stood at their graves.
He came every week.
They were side by side. Marvin and Whizzer.
Mendel always stayed for two hours — the same time, every visit. From 5:30 until 7:30.
The time of Marvin’s old psychiatrist appointments.
He felt closer to him then. As if there were a reason to be there at those hours. Any other time, he felt like an intruder. An outsider.
Sometimes he brought flowers. Sometimes he practiced chess. Sometimes he read a book.
But he always stayed.
Come rain or shine.
Until one afternoon, he sat down — chess board tucked in his backpack — and realized he wasn’t alone.
Jason.
“Oh… hey, kiddo.”
He hadn’t spoken to Jason in three days. They didn’t speak often anymore.
Jason glanced at him briefly, then dropped his gaze to his muddy shoes.
Mendel patted the blanket beside him. “Join me?”
Jason hesitated.
Then nodded stiffly and sat down, facing Whizzer’s grave.
He didn’t speak.
Mendel didn’t expect him to.
“Your dads have been teaching me chess,” Mendel said lightly, though his hands trembled slightly as he pulled the board from his bag. He let out a soft chuckle. “But I bet they’d prefer I learn from the real expert in the family.”
He looked at Jason.
And Jason was looking at Whizzer — at the carving of a white chess piece etched into the stone.
To Mendel’s surprise, there was a small, shaky smile on his lips.
“Whizzer was good… after he got back with Dad.” The words were barely more than a whisper in the strong wind, but Mendel heard everyone with painful clarity.
Jason was opening up.
Mendel needed to be here for him.
“Yeah?”
Jason nodded, swallowing hard before finally glancing at Mendel. “I still had to let him win, though.”
Mendel let out a soft, unsteady chuckle. Tears burned at the corners of his eyes, but he blinked them back. He refused to let them fall in front of Jason.
The kid was carrying enough already.
They sat in silence for a while.
Then Jason reached out and quietly began setting up the chess pieces.
He placed the white pieces on Mendel and Marvin’s side.
The black on his own — and Whizzer’s.
“I… would like to go to something,” he said softly.
Mendel looked up, moving a pawn forward for the first turn. “Yeah? Whatever it is, I’m sure it’s fine.”
Jason hadn’t gone to any events in two years — not since Marvin died. This was big.
“It’s the Pride parade,” he said, eyes fixed on the board. “They’re commemorating AIDS victims.”
Then he looked up.
And for the first time, Mendel truly saw it — how much Jason had changed. He wasn’t the uncertain thirteen-year-old who had lost his father anymore.
He was fifteen now.
He knew things no fifteen-year-old should know.
He had lost people far too soon.
He looked more like Marvin than ever.
Mendel swallowed.
“Of course, Jason,” he said gently. “It would be my pleasure to take you.”
Jason nodded, moving a piece across the board.
“Dad would have liked that… Whizzer would’ve dragged him along.” He let out a shaky chuckle, wiping at his tears and his runny nose with the back of his hand. “Dad would’ve rolled his eyes and relented — worn full Pride colours for him. They would’ve smiled and laughed and—”
His voice broke.
Mendel couldn’t bear the sight of it.
He quietly slid the chess board aside and shuffled closer, offering a tissue without a word.
Jason wiped his face — and then, unexpectedly, he leaned forward, wrapping his arms around Mendel and burying his face in his shoulder.
“I— I just want him to be proud,” he sobbed into the fabric of Mendel’s shirt.
Mendel held him tightly. Firm. Steady.
“He is,” he murmured into Jason’s hair. “They both are.”
He pulled back and smiled. “You could bring that girl you like — Heather? — and we can bring your mom, Charlotte, and Cordelia… we’ll all show our support.”
Jason nodded. “We could bring back some memorabilia for their room… and for here?”
A small smile cracked across his face. “Yeah… y’know, Whizzer would get a kick out of those Pride condoms with the rainbow on them.”
Mendel barked out a laugh. “Yeah! Oh my god. And Marvin would definitely collect all the pins… he was such a sucker for a freebie.”
They settled back, small smiles tugging at their faces. Mendel wiped the last of Jason’s tears with his thumb and murmured, “Right… Now let’s finish the game before it hits 7:30.”
He moved a piece quietly. Jason followed, shifting his own.
“I’d like to eat… with you and Mom,” he said softly.
Mendel smiled. “Great… we’ll set your plate next to Whizzer’s.”
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