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It was sunny today. Holly had always loved sunny weather, but her father always complained about it nowadays. Holland March had become a lot more sensitive to temperature as he’d gotten older. It was always too cold or too hot, but he refused to ever stop wearing the most likely over warming blue leather jacket that had once belonged to his partner.
His partner. Not his husband. Something both Healy and March had always hated- not being able to be open about their relationship all the way back in the 70s when they got together. They’d had a little ceremony with Holly when she was 17, where they’d gotten each other rings, and had a nice family dinner together and had a lovely night with their more official partnership. But there was something so bitter about them not being able to be openly in love. Some close friends knew, neither were in contact with their families. Holly loved her dads very much, and still did.
“Dad, are you sure you don’t need the wheelchair?”
“I’m 72, Holl, not desolate just yet.”
Holland let out an unfortunate groan as he stepped out of the car, his knees creaking and his glasses nearly slipping off his face. He was not the strapping young PI he once had been, getting his arm broken and scouring LA for a missing girl who was actually trying to… take down the government? He doesn’t fucking remember, it was over 30 years ago. Holly’s husband, Steve, helped their three and a half year old out of the car as the other two kids sped out, running into the graveyard. Holly had three kids; a twelve year old girl, Emma, a nine year old boy, Jack, and a three year old with a vengeance for the world and a fire in her eyes Holland had only ever seen in his own daughter- Cassie.
Holland loved all of his grandchildren dearly. It had taken a while for him or Healy to approve of Holly’s at-the-time boyfriend, but he was very kind and treated their daughter well.
“Grandpa!”
Jack yelled, he and Emma giggling at one of the gravestones in the row they’d run down. Holland caught up to them just as Jack exclaimed.
“Look! It says dick!”
“Language!”
Steve called, and Holly rolled her eyes as she saw her father chuckling along with the children’s immaturity.
They all helped get some things out of the car- a couple of blankets, a basket of picnic snacks, the lot. They walked for about ten minutes into the graveyard, Cassie nattering the whole time about trains or unicorns or something, Holland wasn’t really listening. As far as graveyards went, this one was a very nice one. Very spacious, giving every family all the space they’d need with their loved ones. It was very empty, thankfully, and they were able to make it to the two gravestones without running into anyone. Steve took charge of handling the kids and getting them to help set up so Holly and Holland could have a minute. Laid in front of them were two people they loved very dearly.
Emma Elizabeth-Rose March
1947-1976
Terrible gardener, loving mother, wife and daughter
Jackson Carter Healy
1926-2009
Heartbreaker and arm-breaker, best PI in the state, loving husband and father
Once the blankets had been set down, Holly and Holland sat in front of the gravestones. Steve told the kids there was some more stuff they needed to get from the car, and Holly waited until her kids were out of earshot to let a choked sob come out.
“Hi Mom,”
She said, before sniffling and turning her eyes to the newer gravestone.
“Hi Dad.”
Holland put an arm around his little girl’s shoulders, kissing the top of her head.
“I wonder what they’re saying about me,”
He said, causing a giggle to come from Holly as tears fell from his own eyes.
“Seriously. Both of them- nothing but complain about- me n’ my habits. Now they’re roommates, I bet you they spend all of their time bitching about me.”
“You are really annoying,”
Holly said, grinning as she wiped her eyes fruitlessly- more tears replaced the dry ones shortly after. Holland let out a dry chuckle.
“Still married twice. How does that speak for how annoying I am, hm?”
Holly laughed again, as Holland took off his glasses to wipe his face.
“This is all your fault, asshole.”
He patted Jack’s stone affectionately, sniffling as he did so.
“I hadn’t cried in a graveyard in years until you decided this was the place you wanted to move.”
He swallowed. Holly watched her father, and he smiled.
“You do always know how to pick the good neighborhoods, at least.”
There was a gentle summer breeze that went past- a nearby willow tree rustled, some leaves drifting gently by. One hit Holland directly in the face, causing him to splutter and Holly to laugh.
“I think that was him saying ‘fuck you too, honey.’”
Holland chuckled at his daughter’s words. The sounds of people approaching forced them both to regain their composure as Steve returned, kids carrying some more stuff in tow. They got settled, food and drinks were distributed, and they got to talking. Holland leaned up against Healy’s stone while he ate a peanut butter sandwich, and Holly sat next to her mother’s while she fed Cassie some pineapple slices.
“Grandpa?”
Emma piped up, causing Holland to look at her and nod.
“Why does Gramps’ gravestone say arm breaker?”
Holland choked on his sandwich, and Holly laughed. Steve seemed interested- he’d never been told the story either.
“Well,”
Holland had said after a minute of giggles,
“When, uh. When me and your Gramps met-”
“Gramps beat up Grandpa, that’s how they met.”
Steve choked on his drink to suppress a surprised laugh, and giggles came from all of the kids, too. Holland held his arms out incredulously.
“That is a massive oversimplification! I mean- okay–”
“Are you gonna tell the real story or one that makes you sound cool?”
“Sound cool? Frick you, sound cool. I am cool.”
Giggles came from his grandkids again, and he shot them a look. A joking one. Ever since Holly had had kids, both Healy and March had made it their mission to… speak a bit better. They didn’t want these kids swearing like Holly used to when she was their age.
Holland sighed, putting his sandwich down and looking at the stone.
“Well. in 1978, I got hired to look for- some girl, I can’t remember her name.”
“Amelia,"
Holly piped up, and Holland nodded.
“Amelia. Well, your Gramps shows up at our house and the first thing he does is socks me in the face.”
“Really?!”
Jack said, looking awed. Steve looked a bit more concerned than anything else, but Holland was telling the story with such an air of fondness that he couldn’t help but smile.
“Yeah. He throws me across the floor, and says ‘Mr. March, we’re gonna play a game. It’s called shut up unless you’re me.’”
This gains a laugh from them all. That had just been something so undoubtedly Jack that not for a second did anyone think Holland was lying.
“He boots me in the stomach, and I can just about get a word out before I stand and try to get my gun out of the cookie jar- he socks me again, and pins me to the floor.”
Holland chuckled.
“He told me he was here with a message. The message to stop looking for that girl. Then the assho- I mean, not very nice guy grabs my arm, tells me the way he's about to break my arm, and then does it.”
“What kind of break was it?”
“Spira.. Uh.. oh! Spiral fracture of the left radius, I… think.”
Holland shot a look at the gravestone, one filled with a lot of love. He then turned his eyes back to his grandkids.
“Never do that to anyone. Your Gramps was a special case.”
“Why?”
Jack piped up, almost sounding disappointed at the decidedly moral rule of don’t break people’s bones.
“Because it’s no longer the 70’s. And your Gramps did more for me and your Mom then I would’ve ever been able to pay him back for.”
Holland had been a mess when Healy and he had gotten together. The man grounded him. He helped him get a down payment on a proper house, he helped March quit smoking, and drinking… for the most part. But March for sure hadn’t had a drop since his passing.
“How’s the protest going?”
Steve asked Holly, who was on her phone. The day was June 26, 2015, and several of her friends were currently outside one of the courthouses that was discussing the gay marriage law.
“What’s so important about it again?”
Emma asked, a strawberry in her hand. Holland and Holly looked at each other, and Holland smiled before looking back to his granddaughter.
“Well,”
He said, sitting up just a bit.
“This stone may say husband, but me and your Gramps were never really able to get married. People didn't like it.”
“Why?”
“Because they all had sticks up their asses instead of-”
“Okay, Dad! Jeez.”
Holland held his hand up in apology, the nine year old giving him a confused look but Emma was clearly trying to hide a giggle. Holland sighed.
“When me and your Gramps got together, it wasn’t considered… normal. We were told to go to hell, amongst a lot of other things. We couldn’t hold hands in public. Your mom couldn't also call him Dad unless we were at home. We would’ve been out of a job if people knew,”
He looked to the gravestone again, smiling sadly.
“It was always something we hoped we could do when we were old. And while that ship’s sailed, it would be nice to know that there’s not gonna be another couple who can’t express their love for each other whenever and wherever they want.”
There was a silence that went across the group for a moment. Holly had teared up, Steve even looked a bit misty. Then Jack piped up with-
“So people don’t like love? That’s fucking stupid!”
Holland started laughing- very hard. Cassie was giggling, and Steve was trying to toe the line between ‘you’re nine!’ and ‘you got the right idea, kid.’ Holly beamed at her family, before her phone buzzed.
“Oh- Anna’s calling me. Hold on.”
She passed Cassie to Steve, who sat her down and passed her a bowl of raspberries.
The conversation continued on, until Holly returned, her face red and splotchy with tears. Holland immediately felt his heart fall out of his ass until he realised she was smiling.
“They won,”
She said, quietly. No one quite knew how to react for a minute.
“It’s- Dad, they won. It’s legal.”
Jack let out a triumphant yell, and Emma looked overjoyed. Holland shakily got to his feet, and he didn't even realise he’d been crying until he heard his own broken sob, hugging his daughter tightly. Emma and Jack hugged them both, Cassie hugging at her mother’s legs while Steve hugged over them all. It was perfect. Holland broke away, stumbling to his knees again as he leant down to kiss Healy’s stone.
“Hear that, sweetheart?”
He held it in his hands before pressing his forehead against it, feeling his daughter’s hand on his back.
“We're never gonna have to hide again.”
He embraced his daughter once again, and a very emotional afternoon followed. They sat around, telling fond stories of both Emma and some of Healy’s and his adventures (PG versions, they did NOT need to know about the ‘86 stripper incident) and at around five pm, Cassie started to yawn, and they took that as a sign to start to get packed up.
“Give me a minute, will you Holls?”
Holland said, as she picked up the last blanket. She smiled and nodded, going over to kiss her dad on the cheek and kiss both her parent’s stones, before following after her family.
Holland sat down on the grass, the breeze blowing softly past as he looked at the stones. He needed to speak to Healy. He’d spent years mourning and loving Emma, and still loved her just as much, but… he’d said everything he’d needed to to her for now.
“I can’t believe it,”
He said, softly.
“All this time, I thought… maybe. Maybe we would finally be able to. And I know that you hate those big parties, but we’d have one, Jack. We’d have the biggest party because we deserve it.”
He was crying again. Happy or sad, he didn’t know- but he continued through them.
“Huge carrot walnut cake even though your cholesterol was off the charts, it was always your favourite. Hundreds of balloons every colour of the fuckin’ rainbow to show all those assholes who told us we couldn’t do it that we did in fact, do it, and amazingly.”
Holland chuckled.
“Because… maybe we weren’t married, but you were- the best damn thing that me or Holly couldv’e asked for.”
He shook his head.
“I didn’t deserve you. You loved me so well, and I deserved jack shit none of it. I was a terrible person, a worse father. And you did everything for us,”
He stroked the top of the gravestone, before kissing it gently.
“You are my husband, you’re Holly’s dad, and you’re Gramps to three kids who absolutely adored you or who I know would.”
He pulled his necklace out from under his shirt, a silver chain with two rings on it- a silver and a golden one.
“I, Holland March- take you, Jackson Carter Healy, as my lawfully wedded husband, in sickness and in health– and death ain’t gonna do shit. Hear me? I’m not partin’ from nothin’.”
He let out a shaky sigh.
“I love you, Jack. Thank you for everything.”