Belated Eulogy

“So, It all started one day when my father took me into the bank, to make a withdrawal. He typed in his pin, covering my eyes with his hand so that I wouldn’t see the password. It was obviously a joke, but at the time I thought he was dead serious. To this day I make sure to cover my eyes any time somebody is typing in a password. The atm was just outside the bank, but I went in to use the washroom. That’s when I saw it;  a bowl of candy, just begging to be plundered. One per customer. I stuffed two into my pocket. The security guard saw me, I’m sure he did. A bead of sweat trickled down my forehead. I walked out of the bank slowly, keeping my head on the white marble floor. Filled with guilt and shame, I’d forgotten all about using the washroom. The bank stretched on for a long time, and with each step, I was sure the security guard would pounce. He was a big man in a dark uniform, and he probably helped himself to that candy every day. Of course, he only took one, adults followed the rules, or at least, that’s what I thought back then.”

“Don’t be a wiseguy, just tell the story.”

“Right, sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you. Anyway, I made my way out of the bank with two candies and a full bladder. Oh, I had also grabbed a pen at some point, and some sort of business card. I think the card was for a financial consultant, and I figured my parents could really use one. I remember opening the pen inside my pocket, gripping it like a sword, in case the security guard tried stopping me. Actually, I still have the pen somewhere here, just let me go find it.”

“Nice try, you’re staying right here.”

“Nothing gets past you, huh? For all you know, I could have climbed out a window and escaped. Hell, this whole thing is pretty risky on your end. Anyway, I’m actually quite honored to have a fan as crazy as you. So where was I? Oh, yes. We put the bank behind us, and my dad told me to wait in the car while he went inside the supermarket to buy flowers. I was hesitant to be left alone, but I figured that the security guard would have a harder time getting to me in a locked car than out in the open. I was a bank robber now, a fugitive. I glanced around the windows, alert. Suddenly all the doors unlocked at once, and I dove under the dashboard. A big, rough hand opened the door. I recognized it immediately. Just my dad, the carpenter with the big worn hands. He opened the door and showed me a bouquet of blue and purple and yellow flowers, and I told him they were nice. He nodded and said ‘that’s what she deserves.’”

“Who’s he talking about?”

“My mother, in fact, that was our next stop. Hey, do you mind if we sit on the couch, you know as a writer I really do prefer to sit?”

“Stand.”

“Fair enough. So we drove out of the supermarket to visit my mother in the hospital. My dad drove so slowly it took us twice as long as it should have to get there. The sky was grey, and snow whipped against the hood of our car. It’s a miracle my old man didn’t get a ticket for driving so slowly. We arrived at her little room, set up the bouquet on a nightstand next to her bed. She smiled and thanked us for visiting, then I got to hop on the bed with her and watch TV. My dad set up a chair next to us, struggling to fit his huge frame into it. I gave my mother one of the candies from the bank.”

“What was the hospital like?” 

“Oh, I hardly remember.”

“Try.”

“I guess it was like the sky; grey, cold, perfect in a sort of sad, melancholy, boring way. How’s that for a description?”

“Shows why you deserve a fan as dedicated as me.”

“What a strangely narcissistic compliment. Anyway, after the visit my dad and I went out to the garden in front of the hospital and played for a long time. The game we played was everyone-tag, which is exactly like tag only both people are it. We played for so long I almost forgot why we had gone to the hospital in the first place. My dad was like that, he preferred to stay quiet, keep things in, have some fun. The pen is not mightier than the sword, he preferred to act than to talk it out. He had lured me out of the bushes into an open, paved area. I squared off against this behemoth of a man, but it was no use. He got me, pushing just a bit too hard. I was fine, just a bloody knee, but my old man was horrified. His father used to push him around like that, so it must have triggered something in him. He picked me up, and we went back to the car and drove away.”

“A bear with the heart of a lamb.” 

“Right, that’s quite poetic Mr. Robber. So, we drove home and he put me to bed without dinner. I didn’t want to bother him, so I just kept quiet and tried to get him out of my room as fast as possible, so that he wouldn’t hear the grumbling of my stomach. He looked exhausted, weak, and I hated seeing him like that. He left dejected, probably thought I was still upset with him for hurting me. My old man has always been quite neurotic, never takes the time to talk to people, see how they really feel. Anyway, I guess that’s the end of the story.”

“No! Goddammit I want a real ending. Your books always have such amazing conclusions. Sorry for yelling at you, um, you know I really admire you. The story just can’t end there, what happened to your mother?” 

“I’d rather not talk about that, can I tell you a different story?”

“When you got writer’s block during the writing of your third novel, did you give up?”

“I feel like you already know the answer to your question.”

“Just keep going, please, I want to hear what happened to your mother.” 

“Fine. During the next couple of weeks, we went to visit her three more times. We never did play everyone-tag though. When those two weeks were up, my dad got a call. He picked up the phone and sat on a chair in the kitchen. My dad didn’t say anything, just listened. That was quite normal for him, so I wasn’t really worried. I looked at him with a stupid, childish grin. He looked right through me. His whole body shook as if the phone was sending electric shocks into his brain, and for a moment I was worried I’d have to dive forward and catch him. I was relieved when he hung up. Eventually, the shaking stopped, and he lifted himself from the small chair. He made dinner, watched cartoons with me, then tucked me into bed. Not a single teardrop from either of us. We never got to visit my mother again.”

“When did you find out that she...that your mother...when did you find out about her?”

“That she died? It took a while, one day it just snapped together in my mind, but by then it was too late to even be sad. We never talked about her death, even at the damn funeral. We didn’t give a eulogy or anything, couldn’t even put together a couple of fucking words for her. Do you know what we did after the funeral? We went to a park and played catch, played catch above the same Earth my mother was buried in.”

“You could say your father was just trying to protect you.” 

“He had no right, she deserved more.”

“She would have wanted you to move on.”

“I would have! Words are just hot air, all my dad had to say was; ‘she’s dead.’ That’s it. Jeez, is this a home invasion or a therapy session?”

“Please, Mr. Author, just tell the story. I know it’s not easy for you, but I want to hear the ending. You really do have a gift with words, you know that? It’s funny, you’re like the opposite of your dad in that sense.”

“Get out of my house! I’ve had enough of you.”

“The pen may be mightier than the sword, but a gun trumps both, finish telling your story or I’ll put a bullet in your head.” 

“I haven’t spoken to my father in twenty years. That’s all there is to it.”

“No, it can’t end like that! That’s rushed, it’s not satisfying, it’s downright depressing. You can do better, I’m sure of it.”

“Life is the worst novel you’ll ever read, Mr. Robber.”

“Where does he live?” 

“I’m sorry?”

“Your father, where does he live? Don’t make me remind you I’m the one with the gun.”

“Small town, out of state, why?”

“We’re going there, now. You’re going to reconcile with your father, finally shed those tears you two should have shed when your mother died. It’ll be the best ending ever.”

“Are you insane?”

“Please, it just can’t end like this.”

“Fine, you’re the one with the gun.”

“Great. My car is in the parking lot, we’re going to go down the stairs together, and if you try anything funny I’ll shoot you on the spot, understood?”

“Yes.”

“It’s the grey Toyota, you drive, I’ll hold the gun. Try anything funny and I’ll…

“Shoot you on the spot, I know.”

“How much further until we get there?”

“Just past this interstate.”

“You know, I was a bit hesitant to see you, cause they say you should never meet your heroes. I’ve been reading your work since middle school, and it’s gotten me through quite a bit. My big brother, he used to pour liquid soap into my eyes, just so that I couldn’t read for a little while.”

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.”

“I don’t know why I said that, I guess you opened up to me so I should do the same for you. My dad had left us, and my mother was busy, you know. My big brother was just a hooligan, even now, I tried to reconnect with him and he’s still a crook. Your dad isn’t a crook, I can tell from your story, he understood how delicate people are.”

“He lied to me.”

“Everyone in this world deserves someone willing to lie to them. It’s a nasty place filled with crooks, and you need somebody out there who can protect you. Actually, I probably owe you a big thank you in that regard.”

“What do you mean?”

“I started reading your books when I was a kid. No matter how nasty my big brother and his friends were being, you were there for me with your incredible words. I don’t care if it was all made up, your lies shielded me from all the nastiness around me. You know what my favorite part of all your books was?”

“What?”

“The endings. You tied everything together and gave meaning to your character’s adventures. I loved the idea that life wasn’t all for nothing, that there was an ultimate destination, a goal that needed to be fulfilled.”

“I always wrote the endings first.”

“I know, if only we could do that in real life, huh?”

“Yeah.”

“How much further from your dad’s house?”

“We’re here.”

“What are we doing here? Isn’t this a graveyard?”

“I’m old, sir, so was my dad. I guess this is as close as we’re going to get to a visit.”

“No! It can’t end like this!”

“Hey, put the gun down, come on, this was a beautiful night. Look, I’m crying for him. I’m shedding those fucking tears, put the gun down! Please don’t leave my body here.”

“Wait, put the gun down, don’t shoot yourself!…”