* * *
Julia rummaged through Thomas’s room, not knowing exactly what she was looking for until she found a black leather-bound journal. She sat on Thomas’s bed and began to read. Thomas had dated the first entry August 30th of last year.
I always wanted to do great things, big things. But great and big things aren’t the kind of things you can find. They have to find you. I spent a lot of time sitting around waiting for greatness to knock at the door, but who can say what greatness is? The more this ideal greatness avoids me, the more comfortable I found myself in small things: a quiet life, a normal life, and normal dreams. A girl who loves me, who I love (if love exists), a day at the ballpark with the breeze in my face, and sunflower seeds in my cheek. Somewhere, to somebody, these are big dreams. Maybe there is nothing more than to enjoy life and die.
I tried to live this simple life but when the simple dreams were not busy avoiding me I was busy avoiding them. Afraid that I would get what I’ve always longed for and be dissatisfied because deep down I knew that even these simple dreams were pointless. So I lived in limbo—trapped between longing for the grandiose and the simple, both beyond my reach, longing for something and not knowing what it was. Some days the emptiness hurt so good, like a deep back massage. Sometimes I found that I couldn’t sleep—didn’t want to sleep—because I would rather be awake and lonely. Now that all I want is sleep I can’t find it because of the dreams, horrible dreams that are more real than the farce of a life I lead.
I helped a girl on the side of the road once. She didn’t know how to change a flat tire and neither did I, so I drove her to the print shop so she could pick up some project that she had to turn in. She was so grateful, but it was entirely selfish because I only did it to feel good about myself. It worked for a little while. It was the only time the hurting was really treated—everything else only tranquilized it. I wished that she would ask for my help again, but I’ve never seen her since. I’m sure that she wouldn’t want to be a nuisance, but I want her to call me out of the blue and ask me to do something for her.
“Is this how it all started for him?” Julia wondered. She flipped through the pages and saw that Thomas had left almost all of them blank. The journal contained only three entries. Julia turned the page and began to read on, but remembered her own journal that she had begun writing in almost a year ago. She put Thomas’s thoughts aside, and went to her room where she dug through the catchall drawer of her desk until she found the neglected booklet. She opened to the next blank page and sat with a pen in her hand, not knowing where to begin.
* * *
“I wish I could go back and change a lot of stuff that I did,” Hannah murmured into the phone.
“But you can’t,” came the reply.
“No,” Hannah said.
“Regret’s a horrible thing if it doesn’t change the way you’re living at this exact moment. We can only affect the present and that’s the hardest time to live in. Nobody thinks clearly about the present, because emotions and passions are always getting in the way. The past is always changing in our memory, and the future is full of ambiguity, but the present, that’s definite and inescapable.”
“On days like this I’d rather be living in the distant future.”
“That would be nice.”
“I’m always thinking about what I’m going to do in the future, but when it becomes the present I can’t ever do what I wanted to do. I always do something else at the last minute,” Hannah admitted.
“Don’t we all,” came the reply.
“Thanks for listening to me,” said Hannah.
“You’re welcome.”
Hannah hung up the phone. She knew that the phone number she had dialed and the voice that had answered both belonged to Abigail, but she couldn’t escape feeling that she had spoken into the wind. She would have sat alone in self-pity had there not been preparations to make. She found some solace in those preparations, and even more comfort in the fact that she knew Peter wasn’t in any state to help, and that the burden fell entirely on her shoulders. But that wasn’t enough to fully comfort her as she skimmed through the directory or picked up the phone to call the funeral parlor.
The man who answered the phone seemed to mistake her distraught tone for grief over the loss of her son, and Hannah tried to convince herself that the sobs she held back could not have had any other origin.
Chapter 10
Hannah woke up that morning and spent most of it pacing. If her office had been open on Sundays, she would have gone. She felt her chest where the lumps had been. She relived the fear that she’d experienced when she felt certain that those lumps would be the death of her. She’d wanted so badly for Peter to show up and comfort her.
“I would have opened the door to him if he’d come,” she reasoned. She tried not to think about whether or not she would have opened the door to him if he’d shown up yesterday to comfort her. She especially tried not to think about whether he would have come if she hadn’t done everything in her power to push him away. Instead, she reminded herself that he’d stopped loving her first.
“The walls I build,” Hannah thought, and laughed out loud. She shook her head, knowing that everything that she made herself say or think was a lie. “But what difference could one more lie make?” she reasoned, and then reminded herself that she couldn’t be fully responsible for all of those actions. So many of her choices had been made when she thought that she might be dying. “It’s funny the things we do while we’re dying.” She didn’t find anything funny about what she’d done to Peter or Lewis, or anyone else for that matter, but she laughed out loud again. “One day they’ll all come down again, all the walls I’ve rebuilt” she told herself, “but not today. And when they do I’ll rebuild them, a little taller, and a little wider.” She laughed at herself one last time, not realizing that Lewis had risen from bed earlier than normal.
“What are you laughing at?” Lewis asked as he crept into the room. Hannah could feel the accusation in his voice.
“I’m laughing at all of us,” she began to explain. “We’re all so, but you’re so young and innocent. You shouldn’t have to hear about these things.”
Lewis fidgeted at her words more than he would have if his mother had discovered the half empty freezer bag that Tina had given him. Hannah didn’t notice.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I know this doesn’t seem like a time for laughing, but sometimes it’s the only way we can get through. Do you understand?”
Lewis nodded his head in affirmation.
“I’m sorry for everything you’ve had to go through,” Hannah added. “These are always hard years for a child, but you’ve been through more than most.”
Lewis nodded his head again.
“I know we haven’t been all that close,” she continued. “But if you want to talk about anything I’ll be here for you. Okay?”
Lewis nodded his head one last time before escaping back into his bedroom.
“It’s horrible, the things we do while we’re dying,” Hannah thought as she watched her son slip out of sight.
* * *
Julia arrived in the city a full two hours before she had planned on meeting her family at the funeral parlor. She’d left early to get away from the emptiness of that house, not anticipating that the funeral parlor would feel just as empty. She sat outside in her car for almost thirty minutes before deciding to leave for Grace Assisted Living center. When she arrived at her grandfather’s room she opened the door gently and let herself in.
“Our lives are like water,” Abraham announced as she stepped into the room.
“Grandpa?” Julia asked.
“Poured out on the ground,” he continued, looking directly at her. “Which cannot be gathered up again.”
“I came to tell you something,” Julia said softly.
Abraham lay in silence.
“Thomas is dead,” Julia whispered.
“Our lives are like water,” Abraham began.
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“Could you speak to me plainly, one last time?” Julia begged. “I know you understand what I’m telling you, if only you could speak to me plainly.”
Abraham didn’t reply.
“I came to tell you that Thomas is dead,” Julia repeated.
“Susan told me,” Abraham said.
“About Thomas?” Julia said, trying to conceal her surprise at the fact that he’d answered.
“She came in while I was readin’ an’ she didin’t see no harm in it as I was always talkin’ out a’ my head.”
“I see,” Julia said, refraining from asking what he’d been reading.
“When she left I flipped all the way ta the front an’ I started all over again in the beginnin’ an’ I read fer a while an’ I was ‘bout ta put it back down ‘cause nothing jumped out ta grab me, but then I got ta the part ‘bout all the punishments an’ I must a’ felt what all those other men had been feelin’ all ‘long when I read those words an’ I saw the answer clear as day.”
“What did you find?” Julia still didn’t understand exactly what Abraham had told her, but she found an unbearable excitement welling up inside her. She tried to tell herself that the excitement in her voice came solely from the fact that her grandfather had found what he’d been searching for, but she hung on his words as if everything she’d experienced had only brought her to the threshold, and his words were the only thing that could help her across it.
“There is a way that seems right to a man, but in the end it leads to death,” Abraham answered.
“Don’t do this; just tell me plainly what you mean.”
“I’ll tell you plainly, but only you. You see, we’ve all been doin’ the same thing ever since that day. We’ve all been tryin’ ta get ‘round the curses.”
“What curses?” Julia asked finally.
“You know the pain an’ the work an’ mostly the dyin’. We make machines ta do the work, an’ pills ta take the pain, but it’s the dyin’ that we’re really runnin’ from.”
“Not Thomas,” Julia said.
“‘Specially him,” Abraham said as forcefully as he could. “That boy was always lookin’ ta live forever.”
“I don’t think Susan told you everything,” Julia interrupted. “Thomas killed himself.”
“I told you that I already heard all ‘bout that. Some folks try ta stay in shape an’ live a safe life, an’ others try ta make a name that’ll live on after ‘em—that’s the immortality Thomas was lookin’ fer. An some a’ us get hooked up ta machines ‘cause nobody can believe that a sane man wouldn’t want ta spend his last breaths tryin’ ta live forever.
“Your brother only done what he done ‘cause he finally found out that a man can only run so far. Most men don’t find out somethin’ like that ‘till they’re too old ta care. He was one a’ ‘em who’s too smart fer his own good. He found out that his whole life was just him runnin’ from that curse an’ when he knew that it was goin’ ta catch him sooner or later he just gave up all together. When a man finally sees that he can’t go on livin’ forever he knows that livin’ fer the sake a’ livin’ ain’t enough no more. He’s gotta have himself a reason ta go on with life once he knows that one day it’ll all be over. ‘For dust you are and to dust you will return.’ Thomas found that out, an’ he knew that no matter what he did or what kind a’ name he made fer himself none a’ it would matter.”
“He believed in God in the end,” Julia said.
“I imagine he did. A man can’t hardly look at somethin’ so big an’ not see how small he’s been all ‘long. Feelin’ so small, now that’ll make a man know he can’t live forever.”
“Then it was my fault,” Julia said. She hadn’t been able to follow all of the threads in her grandfather’s fragmented logic, but she felt certain of this one fact. “I made him see how small we all are.” She waited for Abraham to disagree with her, to tell her that she’d done nothing wrong, but he didn’t.
“It’s a hard thing fer a man ta believe in God if he aint ready fer it.” Abraham said finally.”
“And why do we go on living?” Julia said softly.
“Maybe it’s ‘cause we know we only get one chance at life. You an’ me, we’ve all got work ta do.”
“And what do I have to do?” Julia asked.
Abraham didn’t answer.
“Can you just tell me what I need to do?” Julia said into his ear.
“Our lives are like water,” Abraham said, and looked back at the ceiling. “Which cannot be gathered up again.”
“Thank you,” Julia said as she leaned in to kiss the old man on his forehead. She hurried to the door, stole one last look at Abraham as he lay on his deathbed, and rushed to the funeral home.
* * *
When Julia got to the funeral home, the rest of her family had already gathered inside. Peter, Hannah, and Lewis sat in a small office, and Thomas lay silently in an adjacent room. An attendant escorted Julia to the office where she sat in a chair next to her mother.
“We were just starting to make arrangements,” Hannah said as Julia sat down. Julia could tell that her mother wanted to break down in tears, but she kept the façade of composure intact.
“When do you want to have the funeral?” the director asked.
“I think in our case today would be best,” Hannah said.
“Aren’t we going to wait a day or two?” Julia asked.
“In our case there’s really no reason to wait for the funeral,” Hannah said. “We’re all here already. The reason people wait is so that family can be notified, take off work, or travel, and so that arrangements can be made for the ceremony.”
“So why not wait for all of those reasons?” Julia asked.
“Who do we have to notify? Who do we have to wait on? We’re all here making the arrangements now.”
“May I call Sara?” Julia asked. “I’d like her to be here with me.”
Hannah didn’t object, and as Julia pulled out her cell phone and excused herself, everyone else looked back to the funeral director expectantly, waiting for him to tell them what their next step should be. He seemed to understand his role perfectly.
“If you’re all in agreement, then the biggest decision left at this point is going to be whether or not to cremate the body,” he said professionally.
“I think we should have him cremated,” Hannah suggested without a moment’s hesitation.
“I don’t want my son reduced to ashes,” Peter objected.
“He’s dead,” Hannah shouted. “And having him cremated will save space in the cemetery. Why would you want to buy a fancy coffin so we can preserve a dead body in the ground?
“A father needs to have something to hold onto,” Peter answered.
“Then you can pay for the coffin and the plot, because my son is dead and preserving a corpse isn’t going to change that.”
“Julia?” Peter called to his daughter who had stepped into the hallway. “Tell her that we need to bury him.”
Julia finished whatever it was she’d been saying, hung up the phone and reentered the room.
“Tell her that we need to bury him, to preserve the body,” Peter insisted again.
“I don’t know that I can,” Julia answered.
“Why not?” Peter asked. He fidgeted with his hands and his leg trembled.
“From dust you were made and to dust you will return. It’s part of our curse.” Abraham’s words slipped off Julia’s tongue. “Maybe mom’s right to have him cremated,” she said, looking at Peter apologetically.
Hannah sat up straight, glowering over her defeated ex-husband.
“But she’s right in all the wrong ways,” Julia added. “Grandpa’s right. We’re all trying to avoid the curse, but it’s going to find us eventually.”
“But he’s my son,” Peter muttered. Then, looking at Lewis asked, “Will you be a good son to me? I haven’t been a good father, but I will be.”
“He’s not your son,” Hannah interjected
.
“I don’t know what you’ve heard, but you are my son.” Peter knelt down to look Lewis in the eye, ignoring Hannah. Lewis squirmed and finally turned his eyes from Peter to his mother. The confused look sent Hannah into a fit.
“How could you say that? You saw the results from the blood test like everyone else. You’re just trying to confuse my son.”
“He’s my son too.”
“Why would you even make such an unfounded statement?” Hannah objected.
“There’s more to being a father than DNA. I don’t care if the judge can’t see past that. He’s still my son, no matter what your test results say.”
“You tried all that sentiment and none of it held up in court. Nobody cares about your years of playing with him when he was a baby or watching football on the weekends. None of that means anything in a court of law.”
Peter looked to Lewis who shuffled behind his mother’s back. He remembered Lewis’s testimony about how he’d hidden in the attic to avoid his father. He could see the same conflicted look in Lewis’s eyes that he’d seen in the courtroom.
“Stay away from everything they tell you to stay away from,” Peter said to Lewis, who still looked at him with frozen features.
“It’s none of your business, what I do,” Lewis snapped. He’d rehearsed the line so many times that it came out involuntarily. “It’s my body.”
“What are you talking about?” Hannah asked, looking from Peter to Lewis.
“Believe me, I know where you’ve been,” Peter said to the boy. “I know what you’ve done, what you’re doing. I don’t know all the details, but I can see what it’s doing to you. I can see everything clearly, because I am your father. She doesn’t know, because all she has is her DNA, and that doesn’t make her your mother, but I’m your father, and I can see everything. I want to be there for you.”
“You can’t even be there for yourself,” Hannah retorted.
Peter didn’t acknowledge his ex-wife. “Look at me,” he pleaded. “It’s a bad thing, whatever it is you’re doing. I know that maybe it’s too late for me, but not you. You don’t have to be like me. I know you’re my son because you’re following in your father’s footsteps, but I’ve done it all wrong.”
“Ignore your,” Hannah began. “Just ignore him. He’s rambling.”