A sword fight would ensue among the boys and our flowers would fall from our ears to the ground. Mom just stood there and ignored us for a moment or two, letting us be kids. Her eyes were focused on the graves and I knew now she was remembering the way things used to be. The beauty of those old flowers had weathered over time, but they still had possibilities thanks to a child’s imagination.
I was always enamored by a small marker, almost the size of a brick, which sat on the edge of the neighboring family’s lot. Mom said it was just a marker to divide up where the lots were, but I traced the word BABY across it with my finger. The word had been written across the stone when it was being cast from a mold. Someone probably used a nail while the cement was still wet. The letters were deep and perfect.
Dead grass had filled in the crevices from where a mower and come right up to the edge of it. I knew it was not a marker, but a grave, an infant at this party without a face or a name. I walked over a bit and found the stone still there today. The Y was covered by tall grass the careless mower had missed. I knelt and pulled the grass away.
Justin’s grave was several lots away. It was quicker to get back in my car and drive over to it. In death, if I chose to be buried by my family, I’d still have to be apart from him. For now, the idea of being cremated and having my ashes scattered next to him sounded like a good idea. If I died tomorrow, or even next week or next month, that’s what I would have done.
I knew if I lived to be eighty by then there might have been other friends met and memories created which might determine a different place to go in the afterlife. Justin would have wanted me to meet someone else and be happy, but for now, my heart still belonged to him. I wanted to be near him if I did go.
The shiny black marble was like an oyster’s glistening pearl. I could see it right away as I steadied the car down the narrow path to where Justin was buried. It was beautiful. Gravestones are such beautiful monuments, celebrations of those we loved. It’s sad to think they never get to see it, but faith tells me they do see it. My heart told me now that Justin indeed liked his headstone.
JUSTIN “JB” BLACK
APRIL 20, 1976
JUNE 12, 2010
He hated his middle name, Oliver. He thought it was odd because his initials spelled JOB. I left it off for him and put JB instead. I’m glad I had come so early; I had yet to see another car in the cemetery. Sometimes when we know we are alone, we are more likely to say the true things we need to say. I ignored the bitter wind and its attempt to chase me away. Instead, I sat down on the ground next to Justin. The rectangular patch of grass had grown back quickly over where he was laid, but it too was brown and gray from where an earlier frost had already fallen.
For a moment, I cleared my head of the loneliness and pictured Justin sitting on the ground across from me. The grass was green again and it was April. Both of us woke up and decided to call in sick to work. We had a late morning in bed before having our coffee. That afternoon we’d gone to the park for a picnic and to enjoy the first days of spring. It was Justin’s birthday, and he wanted to go to the zoo afterwards. It was a simple day and we always made an effort to share many like them. I’m glad my head was filled with those days, and they weren’t hard to grasp onto when I needed a memory of him.
The words I spoke in my head to him were not new ones. Like the flower lady said, Justin knew I loved him. We told each other everyday. The ten years we’d spent together seemed like a lifetime when we were living them. Now that he was gone, it seemed like it only lasted as long as the blink of an eye. I almost forgot about the roses I’d bought. Going back to the car to get them, I spotted a car over the hill entering the cemetery. It looked like Ellen’s.
I watched her drive by Dad’s grave and slow down, but she didn’t stop. Maybe it wasn’t her. The car turned toward the right and started in my direction but passed by me. It was Ellen behind the wheel. She never turned and looked in my direction. Her mind was somewhere else. She parked just down the hill and got out to approach another grave I was not familiar with. From where I stood I could look down the hill and see her. She wiped her eyes and I wondered who she was crying for. She stood several feet from the marker as if unsure about getting any closer.
I guess I had stood there looking at her for too long, because eventually the feeling that someone was watching overcame her. She glanced over her shoulder, the wind whipping her hair in her face, and looked right at me. She turned away for a second unaware of anyone standing there besides a stranger, then she turned back again for a longer look assuming her mind was playing a trick on her. It wasn’t. I slowly raised a hand and waved, not moving my fingers, just a palm in the air like I knew the answer to our questions.
Although we were brother and sister, neither of us had words for each other that day. At any other place, any other time, we would have run to each other and embraced and at least said hello. Today, both of us just got back into our cars and drove away. Neither of us waited for the other to leave so we could drive by the grave and see who the other had been looking at. She took the nearest cross road which led to a side entrance where a grounds keeper had just opened the gate. I laid the roses down in front of Justin’s stone and said my good-bye for the day. Back in the car, at the end of my path I turned to the left and went back the way I came.
At the entrance, I glanced back across the road to the old flower shop. The sign for the roses was gone, along with the neon sign in the window. The window had been broken out. There was no sign on the door, no bell on the knob. The yard still looked overgrown and the decaying plants still lingered in pots on the porch, but the house looked empty. And maybe it probably was, or maybe I was just seeing things, imagining it all. I look back and think about that day now and can’t remember.
It had already been a day that needed no explanation.
Martin
The kids were anxious to go to Grandma’s to see their cousins, aunts, and uncles. Daniel was seven, the oldest of the four grandchildren. His sister, Nicole, was six. They both went to the grade school where I taught before. I loved my kids, but I think they enjoyed school more knowing their dad wasn’t a teacher there. They had both always been very independent, and I don’t know how they might react by the time they reached high school. There was another biology teacher besides myself, so neither of the kids would have to be in my class, unlike the way it would have been if I’d kept teaching junior high.
Like most kids their age, they had already picked jobs for when they grew up. I knew their answers well because every grownup in town asked them when stopping us to talk at the grocery store or at the end of church. Daniel wanted to be a professional baseball player or a veterinarian. Nicole wanted to be a teacher like Daddy or some type of detective, maybe even a ballerina. I had those dreams too when I was their age. I wanted to be an acrobat or a teacher like Dad. The latter choice won since it was the easiest, and my parents paid for college tuition.
Marline was a bank teller at Citizens National, one of only four banks in this town. Her father was bank president, and his father before that. Thanks to some wise investing of our savings, and a cash gift from Grandpa, Daniel and Nicole could afford to go to college to be whatever they wanted. I prayed for the baseball player and the ballerina, any large dream that could shake the clutches this small town can have on people.
I was just a Biology teacher, but that didn’t exempt me from the social status among students and teachers which determined how “cool” you were. Students all had their favorite classes and favorite teachers. The cool kids didn’t like science of any kind, only the nerds. So, those students and the teachers who taught those classes were immediately at the bottom of the totem pole. Next came the jocks. These were the stupid ones who gave witty answers to questions in class to get a laugh, if they came to class at all. Behind closed doors, we were urged to pad their grades so they could play, if they were any good and the team couldn’t win without them.
Next came the smart kids who were po
pular only because they were also cheerleaders or played on a team. They were the student council, the yearbook and newspaper editors, and the academic top ten. These kids had rich parents who bought them cars for their sixteenth birthday. Danyele Child fell into this category, so I had no idea what she saw in me. I’m sure her seduction was only a plan to insure a good grade, and I fell victim to it, putting my career and family in jeopardy.
The guilt had been unbearable at first. I stayed awake at night contemplating on going to the police. I wanted to come clean with Marline, but I knew the outcome would ruin our marriage. Danyele’s disappearance was absurd, and it was even more absurd to blame myself for it. This all just had to be bad timing, or was it? I had to stop thinking and obsessing over it. There was nothing I could do to change the past. It was a secret I’d hopefully take to my grave.
I just knew there would be a knock at the door one day or a photograph mailed to Marline at the bank. But the incriminating mail never came, and the police never showed up to ask questions. I eventually convinced myself to stop holding my breath. My wounded conscience would never be healed, but over time the weight of it had been lifted. We never forget the sins we commit against ourselves, the mistakes we make in life. We ask God to forgive us; maybe our loved ones forgive us over time if they even know what we’ve done. Being able to forgive yourself is what takes the longest, if it ever happens at all.
We raise our kids and teach them to hopefully not make the same mistakes we made in life, but there will always be a lesson we forget to teach them. In life, our loved ones are always the ones that hurt us the most. And yet, sometimes we don’t even know it. Silence may keep them from the harm, but it doesn’t keep us from hurting ourselves.
“Dad, can we walk to Grandma’s?” Daniel asked.
Marline and I had just started letting the kids walk to Grandma’s on their own. There was no fence separating us from what was left of the orchard between our yard and hers, so it was easy to make sure they stayed away from the road.
“I guess so. Are you ready to go now?”
“Yes,” he elongated, afraid I would say he couldn’t go yet.
“Go ask your sister if she wants to go too.”
“Okay.”
Daniel trotted off to the den where Nicole was helping her mother finish up some gift wrapping. I followed. Nicole leapt to her feet from her place on the floor and ran to put on her shoes. Marline and I had intended on sending the kids shortly anyway so that we could play Santa Claus. We’d put out the kids’ gifts while they were gone, so when we returned home tonight it would look as though Santa had come while we were just down the road.
“Kids, do you think Santa might come while we are gone?” I asked.
Their eyes lit up.
“Do you want to put out some milk and cookies just in case?” Marline asked.
“Yes!” they cried with joy.
In the kitchen, I helped Daniel pour the milk while Marline helped Nicole pick out some homemade cookies to leave on a saucer for Santa. We lifted each of them up so they could sit the milk and cookies on top of the mantel along with a Christmas card they both had signed in crayon print.
“Can I trust each of you to take a gift to Grandma’s and not drop it on the way?” Marline asked.
“Yes ma’am,” they said in unison, pulling on their coats.
I knelt to help Daniel with the buttons while Marline dug under the tree for what gifts to send with them. Marline knew that no matter whose gifts she sent with the kids, they would walk in the door and immediately run to that person and give them the gift right away instead of putting it under the tree like they were instructed to do. She gave them Clare and Sebastian’s gifts from the kids, knowing they would not read the tag, but told them they were for Grandma.
Marline escorted them outside while I called Mom to tell her the kids were on their way. Mom would watch for them out her kitchen window even though it was just a few yards for them to walk. I told Mom they were bringing a few gifts with them. She said she would make sure they got under the tree.
“Are you guys coming down soon? Everyone else is here,” Mom said.
“We are going to play Santa first, and then we’ll be down,” I said.
Hanging up the phone, I went outside and slipped an arm around Marline’s waist. Daniel and Nicole were half way across the yard. We waved to Mom who had stepped out her backdoor to welcome the kids. They ran to her and presented her with the two gifts. She hugged them for the gifts and then opened the door for them. She waved back to us as she followed them inside.
Back inside, we both went upstairs to our bedroom where the kids’ gifts were tucked secretly in the back of our walk-in closet. Marline had already wrapped most of the ones she bought back in November. Daniel’s gifts were all wrapped in Santa Claus paper with a green background. Nicole’s gifts were wrapped in hot pink ballerina paper. I helped Marline carry them downstairs and we sat them all on the sofa for now. We’d have to clear out all of the gifts to take to Mom’s to make room under the tree first.
By now, we could load up the couple of dishes Marline had prepared to take and join the others at Mom’s house for the holiday, but a quiet house with no kids is not something grown ups take for granted. Marline winked at me with a shy laugh once we finished with Santa’s gifts. Walking over to me, she slipped one hand around my waist and began unbuttoning my shirt with the other. I leaned down to kiss her on the neck. Rather than waste time going upstairs to the bedroom, we fell into each other on the sofa.
Our lovemaking was usually quick and quiet, for fear of waking the children. It was always in our bedroom in the middle of the night, and happened only if one of us had awoken from sleep and was possibly in the mood to wake the other. Chances like these where we were all alone were fully taken advantage of. It was like old times. We were loud and reckless. We laughed, and best of all, we took our time.
* * * *
An hour later, we were showering together, another romantic act which didn’t take place often. The touch of Marline’s body against mine was much more satisfying than Danyele’s had been. I loved Marline. We dressed and put on our coats although the drive over to Mom’s house took less than a minute.
Mom greeted us at the front door, having probably spied out the window at our car pulling out of our drive. Sebastian was waiting in the drive for us. Mom had more than likely asked him to go out and help us with the gifts and food we had to brought. He waved to us as we pulled in.
“Merry Christmas,” Mom said on the front porch, hugging both of our necks as if she had not seen either of us in months.
I followed Sebastian to the tree with the gifts, while Marline and Mom disappeared in the kitchen with the food. I heard Ellen greeting Marline from the kitchen. Travis and Clare stood up from their seat on the couch to greet me, each hugging my neck. Clare was holding Jake. I shook his little hand and said hello, giving his jaws a tickle to make him grin. Robbie and Rachel each clung to a leg, giving me a squeeze. They had been playing on the floor with Daniel and Nicole surrounded with an array of action figures and dolls.
Out of all of my siblings, I felt the closest to Ellen and Sebastian. Ellen was closer to my age and had a family much like mine. We’d gone to the same college and both had professional jobs right here in our hometown. Sebastian and I were completely different, but I liked being the older brother he could look up to. He related to me much more than he did to Travis, and he knew h
e could come to me if he needed to. Since he had stayed here in town, I saw much more of him than I did Travis.
Although Clare lived here in Ruby Dregs too, the wall between us was one she had built between herself and every member of the family. She was the youngest, the rebel, the outsider, and I think she preferred being that way. Marline enjoyed helping her in ways that Clare might not want to seek out help from Mom, so Clare confided in Marline a lot and I liked that. A good role model was important for someone who was a young mother. The kids liked Clare too, and enjoyed playing with little Jake, so we liked having her as a babysitter sometimes.
Travis was more of an outsider than Clare. I imagined being gay had a lot to do with that. He moved away right out of high school, so he missed out on a lot of the daily activities that the rest of the family had lived through since we all lived here so close to one another. I didn’t understand him, but mainly because I didn’t know any other people like him. Gay people, that is. There were kids at school who got picked on and called “faggot,” but they were feminine. Travis was never like them at all. I never once thought he was gay until he told all of us shortly after graduating from high school.
My relationship with Travis felt like that of a distant cousin you only see or speak to at holidays. Sure, I saw him several times a year when he came to visit. He always stopped by to say hello to the kids. He never missed a birthday. He had helped out with moving Sebastian into his new apartment, but he still felt like that far-away relative that never called or wrote. I loved him like a brother, but there was that detachment between us. The miles and the years between us didn’t help either.
Once I had pried the twins from my legs and they went back to playing with their cousins, I walked into the kitchen to say hello to Ellen. She stood up from her barstool to hug me and kiss my cheek.
“How are things?” I asked her with the sincerity in my eyes that said she better not give me a canned answer.