47. Departures & Arrivals
Bert hustled his family across the parking lot toward their battered old SUV. He’d parked it in the nether regions so as to avoid rubbing elbows with the upscale mourners’ vehicles.
“Why do we have to leave so soon?” Teddy protested.
“Yeah,” Judy said, “I didn’t even get a good look at the body.”
“Just shut up, everyone!” Bert snarled.
He shoved the kids into the back and bounced himself into the driver’s seat.
Sally entered the front passenger side.
“Thanks for opening the door for me, Bert,” she said.
Bert shot her a venomous glance but said nothing. He noted with dismay that he and Sally were so wide that they completely filled the front of the vehicle. He twisted the ignition key almost hard enough to snap it, wrenched into gear, and roared across the lot toward the exit drive.
“Slow down!” Sally cried.
Bert withdrew his foot slightly from the gas pedal. Sally turned back toward the kids.
“Get your seat belts on,” she said.
“Why? You’re not wearing any,” Teddy said.
Bert stopped abruptly, pitching everyone forward in their seats. He looked back angrily at the kids.
“Do what your mother says!”
The kids sullenly obeyed, buckling the seatbelts and muttering about the injustice under their breath.
Bert started driving again, more slowly now. He passed an elderly couple moving with great effort toward the funeral home door. The man was using a walker, while the woman patiently assisted him.
“There’s not much reason for those two to go back home, is there?” Bert said. “They should just find some coffins and lay down.”
The kids laughed maliciously.
“Yeah, they’d better pay for ’em fast, too!” Judy cried.
“Before they kick off!” Ted added.
Sally gave the kids a sharp look, then turned back to her husband.
“What’s gotten into you, Bert?” she said.
“Why, nothing at all, Sally,” Bert said. “What could possibly be wrong on such a wonderful day?”
He was at the exit now, commencing a right turn.
“We’re hungry!” Ted cried.
“Yeah, we want burgers,” Judy said.
“Okay, fine!” Bert said.
He abruptly switched to a left turn.
“Look out!” Sally shouted.
A car swerved, horn blasting, narrowly missing them. Someone yelled obscenities out the passenger window.
“Same to you, mister!” Bert yelled back.
“Wheee!” Judy cried.
“Way to go, Dad!” Ted added enthusiastically.
Bert drove off toward the fast food joint.
$$$
The Musketelles finally arrived, having first made a stop at the wrong funeral home, a subsidiary of the main, ski lodge one – a sort of ‘bargain basement’ alternative for the less affluent on their way to eternity. Sharese, as the designated driver / navigator, accepted the blame. She tried to cover her mistake with an awkward joke:
“Guess I was dead wrong about that, huh?”
Candy and Nichole were not amused.
Their entrance was like a burst of sunshine entering a tomb, literally. Heads turned toward the three attractive women standing at the door, including those of the three crones seated near the front. Laila waited eagerly for her friends to approach, but they just hovered near the back of the room.
What’s the matter? she wondered.
Then she caught sight of Henry and Patricia farther down the row from her. Both seemed highly agitated. For some reason, they didn’t want to be around the Musketelles. Well, that was fine.
Laila spoke softly into Debbie’s ear: “Come meet my friends.”
They stood up and walked toward the door. Laila dearly wanted to keep moving, just grab onto the Musketelles and get out of this death house. Instead, she greeted and embraced her friends, introduced them to Debbie. They seemed reticent around Debbie for some reason, covering their unease with solemn reserve.
They all sat down in the back row vacated by the Nagys and commiserated as only the best of old friends could. Sharese, Nichole, and Candy made pilgrimages to the casket, and each one returned with tears in her eyes.
“You’ve meant so much to me over the years,” Laila said when they were all together again.
Her friends dabbed at their eyes with hankies and nodded.
“You too, Laila,” they said.
“My whole life would have been different without you,” Laila said. “None of this would have happened.”
“Oh, Laila,” Sharese said. “I was always so envious of you ... I feel ashamed.”
“Quit talking nonsense,” Laila said. “You’ve been a wonderful friend. You were there for me when I was down and out, and you’re still here for me now.”
Sharese responded with a melancholy little smile.
“I want us to keep being friends,” Nichole said.
“Me, too,” Candy added.
“Of course,” Laila said.
She basked in the warm glow emanating from her friends. Everyone was all silent now, each entertaining her private thoughts.
Laila looked out over the room, at the backs of heads – many of them balding or gray haired. She could sense the ill-temper of their owners, their calculating self interest in ‘paying their respects’ today. The business sharks and their drowsy wives; the Armstrong clique; the three peculiar old ladies huddled off by themselves.
She doubted that anyone here, except for John Hogan, had been a real friend to her late husband.
How sad it was. After a lifetime of struggle and success, all Frank had to send him off was this pack of hyenas. His brothers had not bothered to come, despite specific notification, and he had no other family except for his children and grandsons.
How did Henry and Patricia really feel about their father?
Laila didn’t care how they felt! She was finished with the Armstrong clan. Debbie was the only member she wished to maintain contact with, and she didn’t seem like an Armstrong at all.
Besides, Laila suspected that Debbie was planning an exit from that crew. Good! She would be there to help Debbie with the transition – financially, emotionally, whatever it took. Debbie was a true friend, and Laila was finally in a position to benefit her friends.
She suddenly realized that, except for Henry’s brats, she was the youngest person in the room. What was she doing in this death chamber among all the grief, real and feigned? She couldn’t bear it another instant.
“I need to get away,” she said. “This is too much for me.”
“Let’s all go,” Sharese said.
The five women stood and walked toward the door. Before going out, Laila paused for a last backward look at Frank – as he had gazed at her from the door of Musketeers restaurant so many years ago.
Farewell, my love.
She felt the abrupt snap of a cord which had connected her to all the previous years of her marriage to that strange and compelling man.
They exited together, Lonnie following behind. John Hogan looked back from his chair curiously, as did the three members of the Eldorado Explorers Club.
“She’s acting very brave,” Ilsa said approvingly.
“I wonder if we’ll ever see her again?” Margaret said.
“I’d suspect there’s a strong possibility of that,” Pauline said.
$$$
Out in the parking lot, Laila, Debbie, and Lonnie watched the Musketelles drive away in Sharese’s car. Laila drew in a deep breath and let it out. Already she was feeling more vigorous, now that she was out of the suffocating funeral home miasma.
“They certainly are a nice group of friends,” Debbie said.
“Yes they are,” Laila agreed. “I hope to be seeing a lot more of them, now that I’m alone.”
She paused to consider the importance of that last word. It s
ounded so final, so ... exciting.
In Sharese’s car, the Musketelles breathed a collective sigh of relief.
“Thank God, that’s over!” Nichole said.
“Amen to that,” Sharese said.
She adjusted her position behind the wheel, shrugging off the tensions of the day.
“You know, I’m feeling a lot better about Laila now,” she said. “I think she’s going to pull through this okay.”
“So do I,” Candy agreed. “But I thought I was going to drop dead myself when I found out who Debbie was.”
“Imagine, she’s Henry’s wife!” Nichole said. “How did he ever land somebody like her?”
“It was an awkward situation,” Sharese said. “But I think we’re finished with Henry, don’t you?”
“Amen to that!” Nichole and Candy said.
“Ah, to be young is to be stupid,” Sharese said wistfully.
They remained silent for a while, mourning the end of their relationship with Henry. It didn’t take long.
“So, what did you think of the bodyguard, Lonnie?” Sharese asked.
“What a hunk!” Candy said.
“There might be some possibilities with him,” Sharese said, “if you girls are interested, that is.”
“Tell us more!” Nichole cried.
They arrived at Laila’s car parked under the shade on the edge of the asphalt lot.
“Thank you very much, Lonnie,” said Laila. “I’d prefer to take it from here by myself.”
“Ma’am?” Lonnie said.
“Take a break,” Laila said, “go back inside.”
“Mr. Hogan wouldn’t like that,” Lonnie said.
“Mr. Hogan isn’t paying your salary, I am,” Laila said. “And I don’t need your services right at the moment.”
Lonnie looked down at her, eyes wide. He seemed almost comically astonished, and Laila felt tempted to rescind her order. No. From this day forward, she would be the only one calling the shots in her life. No man would ever overrule her wishes again.
“I didn’t mean to sound abrupt.” She placed a hand on Lonnie’s iron forearm. “But I’ll be fine. Go on inside and take a break; I’m certain Mr. Hogan will drop you back at my house later.”
She almost added Frank’s pet phrase, “put it on my bill,” but she held it back.
“Well ... all right, Mrs. Armstrong,” Lonnie said.
“Thank you,” Laila said. “I’ll see you later, then.”
Lonnie walked reluctantly away, glancing at her a couple of times as if he expected to be called back. He reentered the ski lodge.
“Does this apply to me, too?” Debbie asked.
Laila smiled and nodded.
“Please don’t worry about me,” she said.
Laila was surprised at how feeble her own voice sounded. She was feeling rather crotchety, to tell the truth, like those three creepy women back in the funeral parlor.
“Are you sure?” Debbie said.
“Quite sure,” Laila said. “I just need some alone time – you know how I am, Debbie.”
“Well ...” Debbie said.
Laila patted Debbie’s arm.
“It’s so nice to have a concerned ‘daughter-in-law’ like you,” she said.
Debbie smiled. She was almost a year older than her ‘mother-in-law.’
“All right.” She embraced Laila. “Drive careful. Can I look in on you later?”
“Yes, please do,” Laila said. “Maybe I’ll get you to drink a glass of wine this time.”
“I just might take you up on that.”
Debbie walked off toward the funeral home. Near the door, she took a last glance back. Laila was a small figure standing beside her car – she looked vulnerable and yet strong at the same time. Debbie waved, and Laila waved back.
“Well ... she got out of this damn family,” Debbie muttered. “Good for her!”