"Historians can't agree on much about Jesus, but they agree on two things: that he was born in Bethlehem, and died on the cross," I told her, reciting from an old lecture, or book. I'd always been good at studying, I just never wanted to put the work in.
                          
"Fascinating!" Hedley laughed.
                          
"Isn't it? Perhaps I misjudged you, young man. Then again, who am I to cast stones? Soon my name will be written on one, in the graveyard behind my own church. Years of being a pastor, and this is where I end up. God, what a load of shit."
                          
Hedley sat up on the bed and made room for me to sit beside him, so I did. He whispered in my ear, "She's a bit loopy, from  the meds I think."
                          
"It's all fine and dandy to talk about Jesus, I've been doing it for forty fucking years," she sighed. "But Jesus never had a double mastectomy, endless rounds of useless chemo, and cancer spreading through his entire body faster than HIV at a sausage party. So you'll forgive my attitude, I'm dying, after all. And when I do die it won't be for anybody's sins but my own. So many sinners these days, I'll be glad to be rid of them, once I enter the Kingdom of Heaven."
                          
"Mum, don't be so cold and detached," Hedley said. "And you wonder why I don't introduce you to my friends."
                          
"Cold and detached? The faster I meet my maker, the happier I'll be. If God's plan is to take me right now, you can bet your bottom dollar I'd be happy to go. You know when it's your time, son. And my time's up."
                          
I wanted to stand up and move slowly nearer to the door, but I stopped myself.  I felt, in a way, like I was intruding on his final moments with her, but if he wanted me there, I knew I couldn't leave. I'd treated Hedley too terribly to abandon him now, not when I could help him. 
                          
I felt the urge to hold his hand and comfort him, but I didn't. I didn't know what he was thinking, it had always been hard to read his face, to uncover any of his tells. I hardly knew him at all, and yet he'd given me his body more times than I could count.
                          
"So Mum," he started. "I've, uhm, got something sorta big to tell you." 
                          
Here we go, I thought. 
                          
"What?" she asked flatly, looking slightly concerned. "Wait, you aren't..." She paused, holding her hands to her mouth. "You can't be!"
                          
"What? What can't I be?"
                          
"I know what you're going to say, and I don't want to hear it. I won't have it, son, and I won't accept it."
                          
"Are you serious?" he asked. "You already know?"
                          
"Of course I know, it's written all over you. Just like your father!" she accused.
                          
"What? Dad was gay?"
                          
"Gay?" she mouthed. "Who ever said anything about gay?"
                          
"I thought that was what we were talking about," Hedley said. "I'm gay."
                          
"You're gay?" she repeated.
                          
"Wait, what did you think I was going to say?"
                          
"I thought you'd abandoned the faith, that you'd been poached by papish bastards, rotten Catholic cunts! Just like my utter oaf of a husband. Thank the Lord I'll be rid of him soon. I'll be rid of you all soon, so I suppose it doesn't really matter if you're Catholic, or gay, or a non-binary transsexual unicorn from outer space. But if you wish to enter Heaven alongside me, you better stay with the faith."