Funeral with a View Read online

  Silence with a smattering of static set in.

  “Bill? You still there?”

  “Yeah, I’m here. Look, Rick. About what happened …”

  “Forget it. Water under the bridge. It’s small potatoes in the grand scheme of things. We got out of it all right.”

  “So, we’re cool?”

  “Yeah, man. We’re cool. Anyway, I’m wiped, Bill. I just wanted to let you know what’s up. Her procedure’s on Friday.”

  “What procedure?”

  I explained what I knew about the upcoming D&C.

  “Wow,” he said. “That sounds brutal.”

  “I know. So, I’ll keep you posted once she’s out of surgery, okay?”

  “Thanks. I’d appreciate that. Let me know if you two need anything. Anything at all. Tell Cat I’m thinking about her. And Rick, I’m sorry. I screwed the pooch and I apologize. I mean it.”

  “We both did, Bill. Not the first time, sure won’t be the last.”

  Ain’t that the truth.

  ~~~

  I picked up Cat and Jude at six in the morning that Friday. It promised to be a very long day.

  Catherine shifted in the passenger seat, wringing her fingers together as she stared out the window. “Ugh, I’m so damned hungry.”

  “We know, sis,” Jude said from the back seat. “But you heard the doctor. No eating after six the night before, and no water. Kinda like a gremlin.”

  I was glad to have Jude’s company. Leave it to her to inject some black humor into a morose situation. It helped cut some of the tension we all felt.

  Cat’s lips curled at the corners. “I know. I just can’t wait for this day to be over.”

  I couldn’t have agreed more.

  I spent the hours in the waiting room worried to the point of nausea. Jude and I didn’t say much while Catherine underwent the procedure. There was nothing to say. While the news droned on a television suspended in the corner of the room and people came and went, I played with Cat’s C & R bracelet. It comforted me to hold on to something of hers, a solid, real symbol of our relationship. As long as I held it, I felt connect to her.

  Cat made it through the procedure with flying colors. She was tired, sore, and a little out of it, but she didn’t complain once, either in the recovery room after she’d woken up, or on the ride home.

  Old Zucker Brothers movies were a steady companion that weekend. They helped keep the sense of loss at bay. It was a stopgap solution, we both knew it, but the sheer lunacy of Airplane!, Top Secret, and The Naked Gun proved the cathartic distraction Cat’s mind so desperately needed.

  The Maddoxes stopped by Saturday afternoon.

  “We come bearing gifts.” Mary Jo’s voice was cheery, if forced, and she toted a bag filled with a dozen containers of Chinese takeout. Those containers meant more sit-ups for me, but screw it. All hail comfort food.

  Mary Jo set the bag on the kitchen table and made a beeline for her daughter. They spoke in hushed tones.

  “Hey Rick.” The Colonel gave me a hearty handshake. “Thank you for being by Cat’s side during all this. It means a lot to my wife and me.” Not one for sentiment, his words were clipped but sincere.

  “I wouldn’t consider being anywhere else right now. You’re stuck with me. For better or worse.”

  His moustache angled in a smile. “I could think of worse things.”

  “Boys,” Mary Jo called from the kitchen. “Come and get it before Catherine and her sister eat it all. Honestly, girls. Do you two have hollow legs?”

  Jude forked Lo Mein onto a paper plate. “What can I say? Between my students and Rob, I’m a very active girl. I need the calories to maintain my dynamic lifestyle. Hey, that’s my egg roll, Cat.”

  “Is not.”

  “Is too!”

  Mary Jo rolled her eyes. “There’s plenty for both of you.”

  “Rick,” The Colonel sighed. “Have I mentioned to never, ever have daughters?”

  “I do remember having that conversation. Quick, let’s get something before they scarf it all.”

  The kitchen table played host to a flurry of plastic forks, elbows, and yelling.

  I couldn’t help but smile.

  Everything was going to be A-okay.

  CHAPTER 23

  Labor Day: the symbolic end of summer. A day of picnics and gathered friends. That one last opportunity to enjoy the warmth of the summer sun before fall intrudes with its promises of winter.

  Cat and I had gotten our fair share of picnic invites. It was appreciated, but not for us. The miscarriage a not-so-distant memory, something more intimate and relaxing was in order. We decided to celebrate the last dregs of summer by ourselves.

  Mercer County Park was one of our favorite haunts, with its three hundred plus acre lake, marina, tennis courts, bike trails, and recreation areas.

  We walked hand in hand toward the lake where it was cooler. August disappeared with the flip of a calendar page, but summer held on fast. The sun burned through a smattering of wispy clouds.

  Catherine set a blanket on a patch of grass; a slight incline not far from the tranquil water of the lake’s edge.

  “This was a great idea, Ricky.” Catherine lay down on the blanket, ankles crossed and fingers laced beneath her head. With her eyes closed against the sunlight, for the first time in a long time, her expression was peaceful. “It’s nice to decompress after being cooped up. Just the two of us, stretching our legs. Mmmmm.”

  My fingers made my way to my mouth. Rather than gnash them, I sat Indian-style next to her. “Isn’t the lease up on your apartment soon?”

  “Mmm hmmm.”

  “Well, I had a thought. It’s cool either way. I mean, I’ll understand if you don’t want to but ...” I don’t know why I had such a hard time spitting it out. I studied a patch of grass that wasn’t all that interesting, desperate to play it cool. “Do you think there’s a chance you’d like to move in with me?”

  A bird chirped, kids yelled in excitement, a small paddleboat drifted lazily by. Catherine had gone very still. Between the closed eyes and the steady rise and fall of her chest, she looked like she’d fallen asleep.

  “You know, if it’s too soon after everything I’d understand if you—”

  Out of nowhere, an errant football whizzed through the air and crash landed between us with a thump. A young, freckle-faced kid of about ten-years-old ran up to us, panting and covered in sweat.

  “Sorry, mister! I told my little brother not to throw it so hard.”

  I flipped the football to him. “That’s okay, buddy. No harm, no foul.”

  “Thanks!” He heaved it to his brother, a red head who couldn’t have been more than seven. With a fluid motion, he caught it, smiled, and screamed his thanks before running back to his group of friends.

  When I turned around, Catherine eyed me with intensity. She propped herself up on an elbow, and the strap of her black tank top fell to the side, exposing her shoulder. The C & R charms clinked together as she spun them.

  “Are you serious, Ricky?”

  My mouth went dry. I couldn’t read her expression. The corner of her mouth twitched, and her eyes darted around furtively. Was she thinking it over? Trying to formulate a polite way to tell me to piss off?

  “Like I was trying to say before we almost got beaned by that football, if you think it’s too soon after everything that’s happened, or too soon in general, I’ll understand. No pressure, honest.” I swallowed. “We can pretend this never happened.”

  “Yes,” she whispered.

  “Say again?”

  Her eyes glistened in the strong sun. “I said yes.”

  “Really?”

  “Really.”

  “Really really?” What the hell? Couldn’t hurt to be sure.

  Catherine threw her head back and laughed. “Really really.”

  She came to me on all fours. With a hand on my face, she kissed me, and I almost asked her to pinch me. I swore I’d been dreaming. Rather than t
hat, I returned the favor. Not to toot my own horn, but it was a pretty romantic moment, if I do say so myself. In fact, it was damn near epic until a familiar wayward football came ripping through the air again and connected solidly with my ass.

  “Son of a bitch,” I mumbled. “Someone’s got a rocket for an arm.” I rubbed my ass and spun around. The ginger-haired little brother waved his hands. “Hey, Johnny Unitas, watch where you’re throwing this thing!”

  “Who’s Johnny Unitas?”

  “Ugh. Kids.” I winked at a laughing Catherine. “Go deep!” I heaved the ball their way. Mini Johnny U caught it, yelled something incomprehensible, and the brothers took off.

  “Nice spiral, roomie,” Catherine said. She took my hand and pulled me down next to her.

  “Thanks. Roomie. I like the sound of that.”

  That was a great day.

  Really really.

  CHAPTER 24

  Everything was exciting and new back then. Each step, big or small, was fresh, and with them came the excitement of the unknown, the joy of discovery. It was an adventure; a brave new world. It’s important to cherish those moments, to hold on to them for all you’re worth. Once they’re gone there is no getting them back. Life runs away from us. When we’re young, we think we’re immortal. Steps, no matter how mundane or spectacular, are easily lost in the shuffle. Don’t let them be. You may not live to regret letting them pass you by, but you will regret it.

  The remembrance board is not the recipient of much attention currently.

  With nobody there to suffer the chilly effects that my proximity seems to have on the living, I swoop in for a closer look and focus on the time in my life when everything was new and thrilling.

  Here’s one of me, Cat, and Bill, taken not long after she moved in with me. We’re all beaming smiles, pearly white teeth, and happiness with our arms slung over each other’s shoulders. This is only one of many shots that were taken in that tiny two-bedroom. I find myself missing that place now. It was home to some of my fondest memories, back when things were simple: the day she moved in with me, our first Christmas as ‘roomies’, Catherine striking a pose, MBA held high while I give her a sloppy kiss on the cheek, camera angle comically askew. Did I live in each of these moments as much as I could have? As much as I should have? Or was I too busy looking into the future, thinking there would be time to make more and better memories?

  I honestly can’t say.

  We would go on to make other memories and have other moments after that apartment became nothing more than a vacated space awaiting its next occupants, but there is no denying that that was a period in which the good highly outnumbered the bad.

  The funeral director—tall, gaunt, pale, and the embodiment of all established stereotypes—catches my attention as he approaches Catherine. He whispers to her. She nods, and once he takes his leave, looks at the remembrance board. Her fingers caress the silver of her bracelet.

  Is she thinking the same things I am now? I can’t read her mind. I can’t even ask her, but what I’m thinking is this: when we lived in that apartment, it seemed as if nothing bad could touch us.

  CHAPTER 25

  “Christ, how did you fit so much shit into that tiny apartment?” Bill held a stack of totes piled three high in his beefy arms, biceps bulging from the effort. They were filled with some of Catherine’s clothes and towered over his head. Good thing I had an extra bedroom; they represented a fraction of her wardrobe. “Where do you want these, Rick?”

  “Bend over and I’ll show you.”

  “Just set them down in the hallway by the bedrooms, wuss,” Cat said as she emptied a cardboard box.

  “Next time call some movers. This is slave labor.”

  “Hey, you said if there was anything we needed,” I grunted, struggling to carry her old TV to the bedroom. The thing weighed a ton. “Your help moving this crap is what we needed. It’s not that much. Quit your bellyaching.”

  “I did say that, didn’t I? I must be missing the part of the brain that goes between idea and speak.”

  Things were getting back to normal. October was on its way and Cat’s lease would expire soon. We utilized the final weekend in September to make the transition. Bill was happy to hear the news. He was even happier to ask why a hot girl like Cat would want to share the same living quarters with a ‘Unibrowed Elephant Man’ like me. Hardy har har.

  I set the TV down in the master bedroom. Sweat poured from my head and had turned my shirt three shades darker. “Let’s take a break. Drinky drink, anyone? How about you, Bill?”

  “I’ll take one. Nothing fruity. And nothing with tiny umbrellas, thank you very much. I’ll never be able to look at a cocktail the same way ever again.”

  “Kiss my ass, Bill,” Catherine called from the bathroom.

  “Isn’t that what got us into trouble last time?”

  We congregated on my porch, each of us holding a Molson, letting the early fall air cool our sweaty skin.

  Bill took a swig. “So. You two living together. Will wonders never cease?”

  Catherine pinched his cheek. “Aww. Jealous, big guy? Afraid I’m stealing your bestest buddy away from you?”

  “Yeah, right. You’re welcome to him. Not sure I’m the ‘playing house’ type. I’m currently weighing the pros and cons of confirmed bachelorhood.”

  “Why, Bill,” Catherine placed a hand on her chest, “are you trying to tell us Misty isn’t The One?”

  “Her name’s not Misty.”

  “Muffy was it?” I offered.

  “No, Tiara I think,” Catherine countered.

  “Tiffany! That’s it!”

  “Nope.” Cat snapped her fingers. “Moronica. Definitely Moronica.”

  We broke up laughing, much to Bill’s chagrin.

  “You guys suck, you know that?” He flung a bottle cap at us. It missed by a quarter mile. “Her name is Mandy if you must know. Assholes.”

  “What the Christ is all that noise over there?” The voice in the distance was old, grizzled, and none-too-pleased.

  “Oh shit,” I mumbled. “It’s Mr. Jameson.”

  “I heard that. You should respect your elders, kid.” Mr. Jameson shuffled his way around the patio partition and joined us. He scratched at his junk through the worn fabric of his plaid boxers, cloudy eyes glaring.

  “Hey, Mr. Jameson. Sorry about the noise. Moving day. You remember Bill and Cat? She’s moving in with me. Bill, thankfully, is not.”

  “I remember them just fine. Just cause I’m old, that don’t make me deaf and forgetful.” The stooped-over bag of bones worked toothless gums in his slack mouth. “Seen them here plenty of times, and I’ll never forget all the noise on the Fourth of Joo-lie. That wall of testosteroni pulled a hole-shot outta here and that pretty one over there was screaming like a banshee.”

  We clammed up. Our beers and our bodies continued to sweat.

  He cleared his phlegmatic throat and pointed an arthritic finger at our bottles. “So, you kids got another one of them there beers?”

  “Um, sure,” I said. “You want one?”

  This is a first.

  “I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t want one. I don’t normally abide by them foreign beers—always been a Bud man, you see—but can’t beat the price.”

  I nodded, went inside, and grabbed Mr. Jameson a beer. The geezer drained half the thing in a single slug.

  “So. You two living in sin, eh?”

  “More or less,” Catherine said.

  He took another swig and clinked his bottle with Catherine’s. “Welcome to the neighborhood, young lady. Keep the noise down and we’ll get along just fine.” Mr. Jameson smiled. Actually smiled. I didn’t think he had the muscles to make that possible.

  “Loud and clear, Mr. Jameson. Hey, do you think you can do us a favor?

  “For a pretty little thing like you? Name it.”

  “Would you take a picture of the three of us?” She ran into the apartment and came back with a digital
camera. Mr. Jameson regarded it like an alien artifact. “Just point and click. Easy as free beer.”

  “Alright then. Move in together. Closer. Closer. There. Say cheese.”

  We did, and were rewarded with a blinding camera flash.

  Catherine looked at the LCD display and smiled. “Perfect.”

  “I done good?”

  “You done very good, Mr. Jameson. Thank you. Ready to get back to unloading everything, Ricky?”

  I held up my half-full bottle. “Be in as soon as I’m done.”

  “Okay, baby. Come on, Bill. Back to work.”

  Bill frowned. “Aww, Ma. Do I hafta?”

  She grabbed him by his thick arm and dragged him into the house. “No more lip, you big baby.”

  Mr. Jameson and I leaned on the railing and stared out into the common area.

  “You got a nice family there, Rick.”

  I regarded my old neighbor, my beer bottle halfway to my mouth. “Family?”

  He turned and pointed at the sliding glass door. Inside, Bill and Cat emptied boxes, laughing, smiling, making jokes.

  “Yeah, family. Can’t ya understand me without my dentures in?” He smiled a toothless grin.

  I chuckled. “You know we’re not related, right?”

  Tired eyes rolled theatrically. “Family ain’t just about blood, kid. Take you and Hercules,” he said, motioning to Bill with his beer. “No way you two are related, what with his frame and your lanky build—”

  “Um, thanks.”

  “—but I’ve seen you two together plenty. More like brothers n’ best buddies. The fightin’, laughin’, ball bustin’. Shit, I’d bet good money that you’d do anything for them two in there.” Mr. Jameson worked his gums, a shadow falling over his face. “Bet you’d lay down your life for either of them or forgive ‘em for anything this side of murder. Heh. ”

  It was something I never considered and it made me pause. I watched the pair, unaware they were being observed.

  “Bill and I go back a long way,” I said. “And as far as Cat … well, I—”