Pursued By Desire: A Cowhand's Fight For Love

"What do you mean you're going to America? What about your studies?"

"Father, I have my own life to live. I'm not just a child anymore."

"You're still a child. You will always be my child. And I told you this before, there's no future for you in England. The factories are closing and all the young people are leaving for America. This is the only way you can make something of yourself."

"I don't want to go to America if it means you won't be able to see me! What about Mother?"

"We'll see each other when we can. It's what we have to do now." His father's face was drawn and pale, but his eyes were steady and calm. "I know you don't understand now, but this is the best thing we could do for our family. I've thought this through, son." He paused, sighing deeply and pinching the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger. "Besides, I've decided to move there too. It's time for us to start over."

Raphael felt a surge of excitement at his father's words, but it was quickly overpowered by guilt and fear. "Can't we just stay here? We can pick up where we left off before… before everything changed."

His father had been laid off from the factory six months ago after an accident that nearly took one of his hands clean off. With no more work in England, he had been forced to sell their house, leaving them with nothing but an old box-spring mattress on the floor of the flat he rented from the pub downstairs. It was small and cramped, but they were together at least, which was more than most families could say these days. Raphael didn't want anything to change that again - ever.

His father shook his head slowly but decisively. "No, Raphael," he said firmly. "This is how it has to be." They went on like this for another hour or two until finally his father got up from the table and said: "You should get some sleep now." Raphael knew that meant their conversation was over - at least until morning anyway - so he obediently headed back upstairs while his father stayed downstairs to clean up their supper dishes by himself as usual.

The next day was Sunday so they didn't have classes at the university in town; instead they spent the afternoon walking around town hand-in-hand like they used to when he was little until his father started coughing so badly that he had to take him home early because he looked so pale and weak that Raphael was afraid he might pass out right there in the middle of the street if they didn't get him home fast enough. When they reached the flat, his father leaned against the wall across from their front door gasping for breath as if someone had just held a gun to his head and demanded he cough up every last bit of air in his lungs in order to keep from getting shot right then and there. Raphael rushed forward with a worried look on his face but his father waved him away reassuringly saying: "Please son, I'm fine," which wasn't what he wanted to hear anyway since it was obvious that something wasn't fine at all about him or about their situation or about any of this at all so far because it wasn't supposed to be happening like this at all.

He lay on their mattress alone late into the night tossing and turning in bed unable to stop thinking about how good it would feel just once if he could curl up next to someone with warm skin instead of cold metal springs who could hold him tight instead of propping him up on soft pillows instead of hard concrete walls who could whisper sweet things in his ear instead of rattle off pointless facts in between bouts of hacking coughs that sounded like death rattles instead of gentle lullabies that filled him with reassurance instead fear who made him feel like a child again instead that made him feel like a man who needed someone else for support instead that made him feel strong enough for both of them because it would never be like this again not ever again no matter how much she loved him or how much she begged or pleaded or cried or tried her best because even if Thomas Edison invented an electric lightbulb someday soon there would be no more candles or matches because there would be nothing left worth burning down anyway anyways so why waste time trying when there really isn't anything left worth fighting for after all?