Bitter Farewell (5 page)

(5)

“We can’t stay long,” Johnnie said bumping into Danny’s arm. “We have to go to the funeral home and make sure all the arrangements are set for tomorrow.”

Danny nodded. He stopped walking and looked at the old house. The porch looked neglected, the chairs on the porch were ripped and rusted, the glass table between them covered in a thick layer of film from years of rain, pollen, and even the crescent shaped imprints of maple seeds falling and sticking for years.

The grass was in need of a cut and as far as Danny was concerned, maybe the house should just be burned to the ground. Each step towards the house hurt his heart more than the last. Strange feelings bubbled in his stomach.

“Gosh, I remember this place,” Rick said.

“You were here, what, twice?” Johnnie asked.

“Yeah. I stole a bottle out of the cabinet and your old man caught me. Grabbed my wrist and I thought he was going to break it like a pencil.”

“Doesn’t shock me,” Danny said.

“Shocked me,” Rick said. “I told him I was a drummer and that didn’t go over well either.”

Johnnie jogged up the porch steps and stuck a key into the door. He turned it and the door opened.

Just like that.

Danny froze and let the rest of the band go into the house. He just stood and stared at it. The old siding in desperate need of a wash. The same windows. The same black roof. The same everything. Not that the house would ever change, but it was still interesting to see.

To the left of the house stood a one car garage and behind that a shed. When Danny saw the garage he smiled. He hoped his father was the pack rat he figured the man to be. That meant there would be something interesting in the garage, something Danny could have a little fun with.

Maybe later
, he told himself.

“Danny! Let’s go.”

Johnnie stood in the doorway and knocked.

Danny rushed up the steps and went into his childhood home.

Crossing the threshold should have had more meaning to Danny, but when he did, he felt numb. Everything was quite literally the same. The same television on the same stand. The same fireplace with the same pictures on the mantle. Pictures of Danny and Johnnie when they were small. The same green couch and green chair.

“I’m surprised it doesn’t smell bad,” Rick said.

“He drank a lot but he didn’t like living in a dirty house,” Johnnie said.

Danny noted how Johnnie’s voice sounded so robotic. Danny went into the kitchen and touched the cabinets, one by one, for whatever reason. In the sink was a glass. A single glass. Danny looked into it and saw a small ring at the bottom. An orange ring.

Did his father drink orange juice as his last drink?

“Where did... it happen?” Davey asked as he pulled out a chair and sat down at the kitchen table.

“He was cutting the grass out back. He had a heart attack and he dropped dead,” Danny explained.

“Damn,” Davey whispered.

“There wasn’t anything they could have done,” Johnnie said, carrying a bag into the kitchen. He tossed it to the table and opened it. “His body was shot.”

“His drinking buddy, Peter, found him,” Danny said. “They were supposed to go out... but they obviously didn’t...”

“Look, here’s what we have to get done,” Johnnie said.

He took out a folder and a notebook.

Danny looked at the papers for a second. Information about the casket, the costs of the funeral, the cemetery, the burial plot. It was stuff Danny had no interest in.

“I figure we’ll sell the house,” Johnnie said. “If you’re okay with that?”

“I’ll go find the other guys,” Davey said and stood up. “Give you two a few minutes.”

It was just Johnnie and Danny in the kitchen.

Danny nodded. “Yeah. Whatever works.”

“Good. The faster the better. Let the banks keep what they need for taxes and any debts the old man has. I’m sure they’ll pop up soon enough. I don’t feel like rummaging through his shit.”

Danny watched at how fast Johnnie worked. No care. No emotion.

“Johnnie, does it bother you?”

“Does what? This?”

Danny nodded.

Johnnie half smiled. “He’s a shell to me, Danny. I’m just going with the motions thanks to my last name.”

“Okay. Whatever you want to do, I’m okay with. I have no ties...”

Danny couldn’t finish his sentence without lying to his older brother. There were ties, there would always be ties. He looked over his shoulder at the back door to the house. It was right off the kitchen. The top of the door always stuck and if you pulled it hard enough it would make a racket. The blinds would bounce against the door. Not a good way to sneak a girl into the house... until you put your foot at the bottom of the door...

Danny walked to the door and unlocked it. He turned his foot and held it to the door. He pulled and watched the top slowly move. The door opened without making a sound.

“Just like that,” Danny whispered.

He smiled but it only lasted a second. Somewhere in his mind and heart he expected to see
her
standing at the screen door. Like she had done so many times in the middle of the night. How they’d go to the basement and hang out. They’d talk. They’d kiss.

“Danny, why don’t I go to the funeral home?” Johnnie asked. “You don’t have to come with me if you don’t want.”

Danny said, “Okay, fine. I’m going to go check the garage.”

“Danny...”

“Johnnie, don’t. If it’s there, I’m doing it.”

“Whatever works, brother,” Johnnie said.

The rest of the band appeared in the doorway to the kitchen.

“I’m heading out,” Johnnie said. “Danny is going to try to kill himself. You three just give me an hour or two and then we’ll figure something out.”

“I’m not going to kill myself,” Danny said.

“What are you planning?” Chris asked.

“Come with me then,” Danny said.

They walked out the backdoor and the first thing Danny saw was the lawnmower, still standing halfway down the yard. He froze and stared at it, feeling a mix of anger and hurt. It was an interesting feeling, like seeing the ghost of his father standing with a bottle of whiskey in one hand and making a fist with the other.

“I’m sorry, Danny,” Chris said, putting an arm around him. “So sorry man.”

“Thanks,” Danny said. “I don’t know how Johnnie does it. He’s so clear headed, you know?”

“Your brother is a freak of nature,” Chris said.

Danny led the way to the garage and found it unlocked. He opened the door and saw the mess of tools and junk that had been there for years. It stunk of motor oil, gasoline, and dirt. The way a garage should have maybe smelled, but it was a shock to Danny’s memory.

He looked to the back corner and saw a wheel.

He smiled.

“It’s still here,” he whispered. “Shit...”

He rushed through the garage, stepping and jumping over whatever he had to get to it. When he touched the seat of the dirt bike, he felt his body shiver. How many miles did he put on this thing? Through the back woods and down the back roads.

“Come help me quick,” he called out.

Chris and Davey were there a minute later and the three of them wrestled the dirt bike free. They carried it over the piles of junk on the floor until Danny was able to roll it out of the garage.

“A bike?” Rick asked, looking up from his phone.

“What the hell are you doing on a phone?” Chris asked.

“Just talking to a friend,” Rick said.

“A friend?”

“Rick has a texting friend,” Davey laughed.

“More like a sexting friend,” Chris added and shook his head. “Are you kidding me, man? You’re a rockstar. You’re going to pick up a girl through texting?”

“You have to see this girl to understand,” Rick said. “Leave it at that.”

“I wonder if this will start,” Danny said, ignoring the conversation going on around him. “It’s been years and years.”

“The fuel is probably no good,” Chris said. “But try it.”

Danny tried to start the dirt bike, listening to the motor desperately trying to growl. The motor wouldn’t turn over and Danny climbed from it.

“I’m riding this today, right now.”

“Take it easy,” Davey said. “We just got here. Needs some fresh gas or something... maybe a spark plug...” Everyone looked at Davey. “What?”

“What the hell do you know about motors?” Chris asked. “You probably don’t even know how to use an electric drill.”

Everyone laughed at Davey. He shook his head and put his hands up. “Fine. I’m just trying to help.”

“Maybe he’s right,” Danny said. “Here, let me check the garage for gas. If Dad was using the lawnmower...”

Danny swallowed as he looked at the yard, seeing the lawnmower again. It was like another slap to the head to remind Danny he was there to bury his father.

In the garage there was a red container of gas. Danny lifted it and felt weight.

Perfect.

Just what he needed.

Hopefully.

He poured gas into the dirt bike, his hands shaking with excitement. There was a sense of freedom that came with the bike. His Uncle Tom had given it to him when he was sixteen and his parents hated it. Which made it all that much cooler. During those days or nights when
Big John
was out of control, Danny would jump on the bike and be gone. It was that easy. There wasn’t even a need for roads. He could go anywhere and do anything.

“Okay, let’s try again,” Danny said.

He put the gas can down and climbed the bike. He winced as he tried to start it. It did the same thing as before, over and over. Danny refused to give up though. He hit it again and again, waiting for the bike to come to life. Sweat collected on his forehead as the need to win this battle overtook everything. And maybe it had nothing to do with the bike. Maybe he was trying to find a way to cope with his father’s death.

“He looks like Peter sweating,” Rick called out and laughed.

Chris laughed too, but Davey walked to Danny and grabbed his arm. “Take a break, man.”

“No,” Danny shouted. “No fucking way. I’m starting this damn thing...”

Danny gritted his teeth and stepped again, letting out a warrior’s cry. The bike turned over, a few puffs of black smoke shot out of the tailpipe and just like that, the dirt bike had come to life. Danny cried out and smiled. He played with the throttle, making the bike scream over and over. His father hated that sound.

“I’ve got to go,” Danny said. He turned the bike off and stepped from it. “I need to find my old helmet and I’m going for a ride, okay?”

“You’re going to piss your brother off,” Davey said.

“That’s okay. He’ll get over it. I have to do this for myself...”

“We’ll go inside and jam,” Davey said. He looked back at Rick and Chris. “Right guys?”

“Not a problem,” Rick said.

Chris nodded.

Danny smiled, appreciating that his other brothers understood how he felt. It had been a long time since he had ridden, but he was sure his memory would remember all the twists, turns, and paths that the back woods of Bakersville had to offer.

His helmet hung from the same peg in the garage. He wiped it off and shook it, making sure there weren’t any spiders or bugs living inside it. He put it on, the helmet covering everything but his eyes.

“I’ll be back in a few minutes,” he said as he climbed on the bike again.

“Seriously,” Davey said, “don’t do anything stupid.”

“I won’t. I just want to have that feeling again...”

Danny stepped down and the bike started on the first try.

And with that, Danny took off. He turned and hit the throttle, kicking rocks all around.
His father hated that too
...
He went straight down the middle of the back yard, leaving a long trail of tire marks. In a few seconds, the yard was behind him and he was cruising in the woods.

Danny couldn’t go as fast as he wanted to. It took all of a minute into the ride to realize that the years had indeed changed the landscape. Some trees were bigger. Some trees were in places Danny didn’t remember. Old paths had grown in and new paths had been made. Not to mention the fact that Danny hadn’t been on a dirt bike in more than ten years. His turns were wicked, the back wheel kicking, the bike tipping to its side. More than once, Danny had to put his foot down to save himself. He ever had to stop once to check the tire after it had slammed into a tree.

It was fine.

Danny used to call the bike
The
Destroyer
because the bike destroyed everything in its path. It had seen trees, mud, jumps, and even some water one time. And through it all, it kept going. Even now, after all these years, all it needed was a little gas to get going again.