Chapter: 4

“Woah, Jim – pull over!”

I was unclipping the seatbelt before he had even shifted the Taurus into park, opening the passenger door before he could turn off the engine.

It was youthful enthusiasm that rendered me so giddy – a blast from the past, as it were.

The evening was warm, lit by the orange and pink sunset. Summer was great in New York – not too hot, not too humid. The streets of Delmar were relatively empty during the dinner hours, and the air was full of a gentle breeze. The relative silence was a welcome change after the bustle of the day.

The Corvette sitting on the curb was rusted and dying due to lack of care. Despite the weathering, however, I could immediately tell by the body shape and cracked leather top alone that this was exactly the same model car which Mr. Julo had driven years and years ago.

Same color, same accessories.

“See?” I exclaimed as Jimmy came to stand beside me. “I told you.”

With his eyes, he traced the sleek body of the low–rider, from the flared wheel ruts to the pop–up headlights. His hands were on his hips, like they always were when he was thinking.

“You were right,” he told me, nodding slowly. A smile played with his lips, touching the corners of his grey eyes as well. “This is practically identical.”

I left his side, walking around the back to examine the ancient spoiler and the dirty chrome fender, upon which we had sat in Julo’s drive, trying to impress the neighborhood girls. “I wouldn’t be surprised if this was the car, although I’m pretty certain Mr. Julo would never have sold it without signed documentation that the new owner would keep life–long maintenance and buff it every day.”

Jim and I had done it for him once or twice, although never without supervision: Mr. Julo had been paranoid that we would scratch the hood.

“Good times,” Jim said, smiling absently as he peered into the dirty driver’s window at the faded interior. “He never did let us drive it, did he?”

I straightened, frowning as I tried to remember. “Didn’t he move away before we got our licenses?”

Jimmy was still smiling as he looked at me over the dirty convertible top. “I meant in the field.”

His grin was contagious. I shared in it as the memories came back. “Julo was pretty nice for being such an asshole about his stuff, but I don’t think even he would have driven it back in the field. It would get too dirty.”

Jim laughed at the mocking inflection I threw into my voice. It felt good to make him laugh; I’d always been able to do it.

He raked fingers back through his hair. It was thinning, going prematurely gray, which was odd because his father had been a bushy brunette to his dying day. “As it was, Gary nearly totaled his parents’ T-Bird back there, didn’t he?”

I folded my hands behind my head, laughing at the sky. “Gary Sadie. Yeah, yeah – I remember. He drove it into a tree, didn’t he?”

“The thicket,” Jim corrected, tucking his hands into his armpits. “Right before the gorge.”

“Did he go off the edge?” I asked, laughing only because I knew Gary had been okay after the accident.

Jim shook his head, twisting his lips. “I don’t think so – just nearly. He dinged the car up pretty badly though. And hit his head on the steering wheel, ’cause he wasn’t wearing the safety belt.”

“And that was when the Sadies decided to go to the Mayor and get him to rope off the field.” The incident was clear in my mind: Mr. and Mrs. Sadie had gotten nowhere on their crusade, and there was almost a renewal of underage driving activity in the dirty expanse of empty field behind Harrison’s dairy.

As far as I knew, fourteen and fifteen year old kids were still kicking around in old Ford pickups back there to this day.

“Probably woulda been better for the community if they’d gotten their way,” I said slowly. As an adolescent, I’d been livid that Sadie’s parents had been trying to close off our driving grounds, but age and experience had mellowed my thinking and taught me to see things from a more rational mindset.

“Yeah – there were more serious injuries later on, if I recall properly.” Jim sighed, then indicated the Taurus, like he was my goddamn chauffeur or something. “Shall we? Sue’s probably got dinner ready by now.”

All except for the stuffing: the Stoffer’s box mix was in an Acme bag beneath my seat.

I laughed as we headed back to the little four–door. “Does she ever wonder why it takes us hours just to run downtown on errands?”

“I’m sure she does,” Jim replied as we climbed back into the car. “But she never asks. You’re going to eat with us right?”

I held up my hands like scales, weighing one against the other. “Cold soup and the Knicks, or turkey and my best friends…” I frowned and shook my head. “You know, I’m really undecided – pros and cons, man, pros and cons –”

“Shut up,” Jim laughed as we pulled away from the curb.

When I refused, he turned up the radio to drown me out, and then we were both singing along with Mellencamp – like we were fucking teenagers again.

Old habits and lifestyles die hard, I guess.

“I miss him so much,” Jessifer sobbed, with her face buried in Derek’s shoulder. “I can’t… He’s really gone. I can’t believe he’s really gone – after all this time he’s been here for us… I, I, I thought he’d be here forever.”

Words really couldn’t accurately describe her grief, but Derek understood, and he held her tightly, letting her cry into the shoulder of his flannel shirt. From where I stood, I could see that he was crying too, but without noise and dramatics. There was a wistful, sad sort of smile on his face, and I could see Jimmy in his eyes.

Susan was holding my hand, tightly, but both our hands were cold, neither offering any comforting warmth to the other. Our fingers were interlocked, woven that way by the stray threads of grief.

I couldn’t have let go if I wanted to.

We were in the sitting room, the room that had seen so many summer parties, so many weekend ball games, so many fights. Good things and bad, memories and dreams.

Our lives had been good – normal.

Jessifer sniffled as she drew away from Derek, trying to smile at him, but failing abysmally. She looked so tragically beautiful just then, a flower crushed before full bloom. She was wearing a gray turtleneck sweater, her long blonde hair straight and glowing, mascara smudged like soot around her broken eyes.

Looking down at the ground, she let her hands rest on Derek’s chest momentarily, and then stepped back, falling away from him almost abruptly.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured, as though an apology was necessary. “I’m… God, I’m glad you’re back, Derek.”

My son stuffed his hands awkwardly into his jeans pockets, ignoring the lone tear that clung to his cheek. “Me too… I, I miss him too.”

Jessie swiped at her face with her sweater sleeves, which were too long, smearing the tears from her porcelain cheeks. “I know – you loved him too, I know.”

Susan’s hand suddenly tightened around mine, and I returned the squeeze, gazing absently out the bay window to the brooding sky above.

The day had dawned just as morbid as the previous, although in the wake of yesterday’s tragedy, it felt all the more hollow and dull. It was the type of overstressed day where nothing is accomplished, where depression stagnates and loss festers, and yet you feel nothing.

Melancholy, perhaps, but not true sadness.

I thought that there should have been a renewed vigor in my gut, considering the visitation I’d undergone barely hours ago, and yet I found that any type of hope or faith I might have felt during Jimmy’s brief stay was already gone. It seemed that every last drop of emotion in my body had been sucked out while I’d been sleeping – or trying to.

It wasn’t their fault, but Susan and Jessie had driven it from me. Like salt to the wound, their tangible grief was a slap of painful reality.

Who was I kidding? Who was Jimmy kidding?

Both of us, apparently – himself and me. He’d always been one to laugh at his own jokes.

I unstuck my lips, diverting my thoughts. “Can I get you anything, Sue?” I asked, brushing her temple with a gentle kiss. “Coffee, tea, water?”

Susan blew out a weak sigh and slumped against me. She was still clinging to my hand with one of her own; the other was grasping my bicep almost painfully. I was almost holding her up.

“Coffee would be great,” she said finally, lidding her weary grey eyes. She was exhausted, which was probably why she repeated her statement. “Coffee would be great.”

Studying her glassy eyes, I thought: So would alcohol.

But Jessie was a year away from the drinking age, and Susan would refuse anyway. I had never even seen her drink wine – not for dinner, not for social occasions. Out of respect for her tastes and the fact that I didn’t like to drink alone, I decided not to bother offering.

I entered the kitchen as Derek and Jessie sank onto the couch together, leaving Susan to sway in limbo momentarily, and then drop into the chair her husband had briefly occupied not so long ago. The irony should have struck me as chilling perhaps, yet I felt nothing aside from mild intrigue – if it could be called such.

Sighing heavily, I opened the cereal cabinet and took out a can of Folgers.

So today is the first day of the rest of our lives, I thought at the tin, playing my tongue over my teeth as I worked off the plastic lid with my fingertips. One step at a time.

And what would the steps of today entail?

My mental chore chart was scattered and far from set in stone, but there were some general things I wanted to accomplish.

I was going to call Tanya. I was going to start working on a photo–montage to organize my memories of my best friend. I was going to take a long shower to refresh myself and sort my thoughts.

Although I knew I’d have to bite the bullet eventually, I didn’t want to ask Sue how I could help with the funeral preparations. I felt like I owed it to Jim to see to it that his last wishes were carried out. Fortunately, I knew it would be another day or so before Sue even started thinking about those things, and that was perfectly fine with me.

Helping to bury my friend would be like burying my own history – the good and memorable parts of it. There were certainly some things about the past that I’d like to bury, but none of those things had anything to do with Jimmy.

I realized with a jolt that I’d stood at the counter and watched the entire pot percolate. What had it been – nine, ten minutes?

Spent just staring at the coffee dribble into the pot.

There was too much on my mind – too much for me to bear. As I poured the coffee into four identical mugs, I decided that I needed more sleep. Maybe I’d take a nap sometime that afternoon.

I dug a dusty serving tray out of the cupboard beneath the sink and used it to transport the mugs out into the sitting room.

“How is school, Derek?” Sue was asking as I reentered the room. It was the beginning of a new topic of conversation.

I momentarily wondered whether they had been sitting in silence during those ten minutes I’d been absent, or if they’d been discussing Jimmy.

“It’s going well, thank you,” my son replied, flashing his teeth at Sue. The grin was plastic and ornamental: his thoughts were not on UMaine at the moment. “I’m keeping up a 3.8, so that’s enough to keep Dad and Mom happy – which means I can stay happy.”

“Are you still in the Bio–med program?” Jessie asked, brushing a lone tear from the corner of her eye. She was obviously grateful for a change in topic.

Derek nodded as he accepted the mug I handed him. Blowing at the surface of the black liquid, he said, “The engineering division – yeah. It’s pretty tough, but I’m managing. If I hadn’t aced chemistry in high school, there would be no way I’d make it.”

“Helps being smart too,” I commented, winking at him. I’d never told him directly just how proud he made me: this was probably the closest I’d come.

Derek’s smile was real as he paused to appreciate the compliment. I wondered if he thought it out of place, considering the circumstances that had brought us back together, but it felt good as a father to bring that kind of light into his eyes.

“Thanks, Dad,” he said after a moment.

“He takes after his father,” Jessie said, smiling at me. It was a brave stab at the mock–flirting she and I had shared for years. It was a weird little joke we’d cultivated together – driving Jimmy crazy by insisting that we were making plans to run off together one day.

Jessie really was a sweetheart, and I could tell that she was trying so hard to be strong – for Sue’s sake, if not her own. Jimmy’s wife had always suffered from a weak heart, although she’d had no episodes as of late.

“I don’t know about that,” I returned mildly. “Tanya’s the smart one. Her and Jim both.”

“Yeah,” Sue agreed flatly. She was staring off into space. “Jim was smart. Too smart.”

Tears leaked from Jessie’s eyes, but she kept smiling. She cradled her coffee mug in two hands, fingers interlocked around and inside the handle, like she was clutching whatever bit of reality she could hold on to.

A miserable sort of silence ensued, but it was bittersweet because we were all thinking about good times past. In a way, it was a very selfish sadness – the realization that our lives would be dramatically different without Jim.

Eventually good times would return to us, but they would never be the same again.

Sue looked up at me abruptly. “I need to go over his will,” she told me. “Would you… would you do it with me, Jack? I’m certain he left you some of his things –”

“Of course, Sue,” I replied, taking a sip from my mug. Personally, I didn’t want any of Jim’s things – they would forever be his, no matter whose closet they resided in. “We’ll do it tomorrow, okay?”

She let her eyes slide closed and nodded slowly, repressing the grief that was surely rising up inside her heart.