Funeral with a View (10 page)

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.

“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—”

“You loooooove her.”

I shook my head, a grin
on my lips. “Is it that obvious?”

“Go on. Say it, kid. Embarrassed?”

“Yeah, I love her.”

“Heh. Not so hard,
right?” I shook my head. “Good.” He turned around, rested his elbows on the
railing, staring into the distance at the bloated sun making its final decent
over the trees. “Blood don’t always mean everything, Rick. The ones you’d do
anything for, not because ya feel obligated, but because you wanna? That’s what
makes ‘em family.” With a toss of the head, he drained the last of his drink. “Looks
to me like you got a good thing goin’. Don’t make a balls up of it.”

My opinion of the old
coot changed for the better that day. Who could have known that breaking his
awnry demeanor was only an issue of free beer?

~~~

By the time we’d finished
unpacking the cars and getting everything into the apartment, night had fallen.
The air was crisp and colorful leaves rustled against the sidewalk, courtesy of
the cool autumn breeze. Bill took off, most likely to spend the rest of the
night with Miss Right Now Mandy. Cat and I started an over/under pool on how
long it would last. Mean? Yes. Fun? You betcha.

“Ricky, you have so much
spyware on this computer it’s amazing the thing even starts up.” Cat was
clacking away at my PC while I tucked some of her things into the kitchen
drawers.

“Why do you think I asked
you to move in, dear? You can make my meals
and
attend to all of my
computer-related needs.” Living with an IT professional had its advantages.

“I’d always thought you
just wanted me for my body.”

“Fringe benefit.”

“Anyway, I’ve cleaned
this sucker up and I’m updating your antivirus. You won’t have to worry about a
bug creeping in and screwing up any of your work files when you’re sneaking
porn.”

“Never touch the stuff.”

“Lies.”

“I get lonely when you’re
not around.”

Silence.

“Thank you, Catherine.
You’re the best, dear.”

“I know.”

“I promise to only watch
porn with you, honeymuffinbooboo.”

“That’s better.”

Cat resumed her clacking.
I took advantage of the distraction and skulked into the master bedroom. I had a
little something special secreted away in the closet, something for our very
first night living together under the same roof.

“Hey, Cat? Can you come
to the bedroom for a second? I have a housewarming present for you.”

“Whatcha got? Oh.
Wow
.”

I leaned against the
wall, holding a frilly silk negligee; red with black trim, cut high around the
outer thighs, low in the bust. Slinky. Sexy. Expensive.

“Ricky, that’s gorgeous.”
She rubbed the supple fabric reverently between finger and thumb. “Where’d you
get it?”

“Being the lead ad
designer for a high end adult lingerie boutique has its perks.” I smiled. “Helena’s
Heaven, um,
lent
me some samples so I could get a feel for their
products. I figured it would look much better on you than me. Consider yourself
a beta tester.” I passed it to her, and it spilled over her hands like a red
waterfall. “I thought we could take care of two things at once.” She met my
eyes. “You know, put it through its paces for the customer—cause I’m all about
customer satisfaction—annnnd,” I placed my hands on her hips and kissed her
neck, “maybe christen some of the rooms of
our
place. I tried to think
of a better plan for our first night as roomies, and I think this one’s the
best, wouldn’t you agree?”

“I agree wholeheartedly,”
she purred.

“Oops. One other thing.”
I ran back to the closet and collected something else from my hidey hole.

Cat laughed, and her eyes
glinted with playfulness. “Crotchless panties?”

“Hands off. These are for
me.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes. No. Maybe?”

“All this time and I had
no idea you were so kinky. Either way, we’ll just have to give these a thorough
test, now won’t we?” She nibbled my ear. “Wouldn’t want to give your client
anything less than our full effort.”

I watched her strip and don
the lingerie. It fit like a glove.

Cat took me by the hand
and led me to the bed where we tested the shit out of that lingerie. It met
with our immediate approval … all three times. And not once did Mr. Jameson
bang on the wall.

Win win.

Holy shit. I can’t
believe it. He’s actually here. Mr. Jameson totters in, making his way down the
aisle with deliberate care. His tattered, gray suit hangs off his frail
skeleton, and a gnarled hand clutches a cane. Several white strands atop a
liver spotted head are all that remains of his hair.

I’m so touched words fail
me. Catherine and I lived in that apartment only a few years, but for that
short period my gruff neighbor had become a fixture in our lives, especially in
the warmer months when he knew he’d find us kicking back on the porch with a
few drinks.

Catherine sees him. She
stands up slowly, obviously as surprised as I am.

“Mr. Jameson,” she
whispers, wrapping him in a hug. “Thank you so much for coming. Ricky would
have loved knowing you came.”

He clears his throat,
uncomfortable with the display of emotion, but makes no move to separate
himself. “It’s nothin’, young lady. I saw the obit in the paper. Had to come
pay my respects. You two were always nice and respectful to this old bird and I
never forgot it. When you get to be my age, friends don’t linger very long.”

Mr. Jameson gives his
condolences to my mother—they’ve met on several occasions—and says hello to Jude.
“Mind if I take a look?” he says, pointing with his free hand.

“The remembrance
montage?” Catherine says. “No, of course not.” Taking him by the elbow, the two
slowly walk over to the display. “You’re in a few of these.”

Mr. Jameson puts on a
pair of thick glasses straight out of a Civil War museum. “I’ll be. I remember
some of these. That one there was when you first moved into his place. Didn’t I
take that one? And that one, all of us that first Christmas? Can’t believe you
got me to wear that silly Santa hat.”

Mr. Jameson had almost
smiled in that picture. Almost.

“Where is that big
walking wall anyway? Bill, was it?”

“He’s on his way.” She’s
lying, I can tell. Cat doesn’t know where he is any more than I do.

“Thanks for the trip down
Memory Lane. Now I need to go sit, find a place to rest this old rump. I ain’t
as sturdy as I used to be.”

Catherine smiles patiently
and helps him to a seat, then rejoins her sister up front.

“I’m going to go see if
Rob needs some relief,” Jude says. “The kids have to be running him ragged by
now. And my butt’s getting numb.”

She walks out the back
and after several minutes Rob enters, seeming none the worse for wear from
having dealt with three rambunctious kids most of the morning. Not that he
would complain. That was never Rob’s way.

I notice the door is
still open. Sun trickles in, as does a group of dry leaves caught in an invisible
whirlwind. There’s the sound of laughter, light and childish. I glide over in
hopes of seeing Celeste, but the door closes in front of me and I’m cut off
from the outside world once again.

Rob sits down next to my
wife and straightens out his perfectly tailored three-piece Italian suit. My
brother-in-law was always a believer in presenting the picture of success, once
telling me, “You don’t become the head of your own sporting goods chain dressed
like a mechanic. No offense to mechanics.”

Rob has been gifted with
the secret knowledge of youth. He’s about eight years older than Jude but looks
no older than I do …
did
. Not one speck of gray has infiltrated his
thick head of curly black hair.

He adjusts his
wire-rimmed glasses. Despite all his success, he’s never found a pair that fits
him correctly. “How are you holding up, Cat?”

“Mr. Jameson just showed
up. He was our neighbor when we lived in Ricky’s old apartment.” She shakes her
head. “Things were so simple back then, Rob. No drama. No … problems.”

So she
has
been
thinking the same things as me. I do know my wife well. Suddenly, I don’t feel
so alone in this.

Rob smiles. “The good old
days.”

“Yes. Before everything
went off the rails,” Cat whispers.

“You can’t think like
that. That’s not what Rick would have wanted. What couple doesn’t have their
issues? You have to try to focus on the good times, Cat.”

“And Celeste.”

He nods. “You two raised
a wonderful girl. No matter what happened, the end result is the same: she
loved Rick and he loved her.”

Catherine nods somberly.
“How’s she doing out there?”

“Still playing with her
cousins. She keeps asking about Rick. And about Uncle Bill.” Celeste had
started calling Bill ‘Uncle’ as soon as she could form the word.

Catherine fingers her C&R
charm bracelet. “Uncle Bill.”

“Still a no show?”

“Still a no show.”