Second Row

Second Row

“Just down there.”

“Thank You.”

I try and get out here at least once a year just to see how things are going. I used to come more often, but Morris has not aged historically well. I should explain. He died nine years ago today, October 31st. 

At first, I found his reluctance to accept the fact that he was dead, as his way of apologizing, for leaving me. I attempted to relieve his anxiety by explaining I was doing just fine, and he needn’t worry. I thought he accepted my explanation, but I’ve come to find out over the past few years that he isn’t concerned at all about my welfare, but only his own.

I hadn’t known him to be arrogant, egotistical, or submissive of other’s feelings, while he was alive. Something I fear has happened to him over the past several years. He seems transfixed by his predicament. I attempted last time I visited to reassure him that he should stop attempting to analyze his situation, and just accept it. I asked what alternative he believed he might have. He told me he’d like to begin by being moved. I asked if meant, exhumed. He said, that would be a good start.  He has a unique sense of humor.  Then he added that he’d spent some time looking into the real estate in the area and that Walnut Hills is the place to be. 

I attempted to explain to him that I had considered interning him there, initially, before all the arrangements had been finalized, but with the aid of my neighbor Burt, we decided it was too expensive, and would jeopardize my means and standard of living. Burt could see no reason why I should abandon the, “coffers of life,” just so Morris can feel better about the clientele and his surroundings. I had to agree when he put it that way.

Last year, after I explained how well I was doing; he fell into a deep slump. He pretended I wasn’t there. He ignored me for the better part of my visit, and then he must have decided he wasn’t going to get what he wanted by remaining aloof, so he quit moping and attempted using his charm. I’m used to it, so it doesn’t have the alure it has on most people; I just pretend it does, makes things easier that way. 

“Oh, here you are. Knock, Knock, anyone home?”

Usually he’s sitting on the neighbors ostentatious monument or lying down under the chestnut tree on the hill. He says the monument makes him feel like, “life was worth living.” We could only get him a flat stone because they changed the rules. Said they needed to be able to do maintenance on the grounds, and the old monuments had to be trimmed around by hand. Labor intensive they said, drove the cost of plots up. Burt said too, that he’d checked on the price of the more modern headstones, the ones that looked like the Washington’s Monument, but he said even those were outrageously expensive, and “Isn’t austerity really worth the price,” he said. I wasn’t quite sure what Burt meant, but I trust he does, he’s good with numbers. 

Morris goes over to Vernon’s monument because it is not only elaborate, but Vernon is one of those guys that listens. He’s a listener. No matter what you say, he just listens. Never heard him say one word. It fits Morris fine, cause he’s a talker.

I asked the attendant, Jim, the guy who reminds me where Morris is, when I come, because I tend to forget. I ask about the neighbors, how they are doing, to kind of break the ice. He just laughs. Everything in this new section looks the same, easy to get lost. It’s simpler to ask the attendant. One time I spent a couple of hours wandering around looking for Morris. That’s how I come to know some of his neighbors. 

“You came!” I heard his voice, but couldn’t tell where he was. I look around and there he is over at Ralph’s. Ralph is nothing like Vernon. Ralph doesn’t shut up. Morris told me, it was because Ralph had a wife who wouldn’t let him get a word in edge wise, and so now all he does is try and make up for lost words, or time, I forget. I don’t know, it sounds like something husbands are supposed to say about their wives, but who really knows what goes on between people. You think you know someone, and then you don’t.

“Why of course I made it. It’s your Anniversary. It was nine years since your heart quit. Doesn’t seem that long. Does it seem that long to you?”

He just looks at me like he’s thinking about an answer, or a joke to take the edge off, or maybe he’s just being his sullen old self. He used to be so lively. Lately he’s not lively at all. He is more like the guy who got the life sentence and spends all his time now, figuring out how to escape. I try and cheer him up, but I’m no good at it, never have been. I used to laugh, mainly so he wouldn’t think there was something wrong with me. No sense of humor. But then I don’t find everything funny, like some people do.

You know, a lot of men don’t like women who are humorous. I think it challenges their ideals of what a woman is supposed to be, reserved.  Burt doesn’t expect me to laugh, cry, do or be, anything really. Burt lets me be, who I want to be. I can’t tell you what a relief it is, to not have to think about being yourself.

“You look into me getting moved, yet?”

I knew it was coming. I could tell by the way he was lookin through me.

“We’ve been over this. I told you, Burt looked into it too, and it’s way to expensive. He said even if he chipped in, which he said might be encroaching on our past history, you, him, and me, so he prefers to stay out of it. He’s got to watch out for himself too, you know. Once he moved in, he started to pay half the bills, and he also cooks, so that is a big help.”

“He cooks? For you?”

“Yeh, he isn’t a very good cook, but he tries, and trying as you used to say is, half the battle.”

“I used to say a lot of things. I was talking about work, making money, making a living, taking care of the family, not cooking. Do you remember when we said our vows and we agreed to remain together, till death do us part? I’ve been thinking a lot about that lately, staying together. What does that mean to you?”

“What? I can’t hear. That mowing machine is coming this way. I’ve got to move. Wait here, I’ll be back after he’s gone, and I can hear myself think.”

Thank God, that mower came when it did. I knew he’d bring the move up again, but the stuff about, till death do us part? I can’t begin to imagine what that is all about. 

When I think back on our life together, and what it’s like now, I wonder how I made it. I never realized how possessive he was, until he wasn’t. Burt, I know cares, counsels me, but he makes me feel like I can make my own decisions. Well, most of them. Some things I do believe, as Burt says, you should leave to the professionals. His having worked in accounting has been a God send when it came to investing the money I got, when Morris left. Burt said he invested it for us, so we won’t have to worry about our future. He is so considerate compared to Morris; it gives me the shivers at times to think of the difference.

“I’m here again. I see the mower man has finished up. Your yard looks good. I would bring flowers to brighten up the place a bit, but they only put out those metal pots on Holidays, and then you have to take the flowers out within a day or two, or they charge you extra. Burt said you got to keep an eye out, so they don’t rob you blind.

I see Glady’s Mills over there, you remember her, the old librarian. She’s got flowers, but they are plastic. If you are going artificial, you’d think you’d at least go paper or fabric, so much more real looking. Don’t you think?”

“I don’t think about flowers much. Up at the Hills, they got these wreaths they put out. Real pretty, and they have flag days too. It’s the prettiest place I’ve ever seen on the Fourth of July. You’ll have to come sometime. Must be really a nice place to spend eternity. Know what I mean?”

I knew what he means, and where this is going. One thing I learned about Morris over the years, especially as he got older, his attention span got lots shorter. If I change the subject it seems to throw him off a bit, and he loses his line of thought. It’s helped me out of several places that needed explaining, that I wasn’t able to explain. Burt says that a lot of his friends are the same way.

“I should get going. It’s getting dark, and you know I don’t like driving after dark, more dangerous, car lights bother me so much. I’m glad you are looking so well. I’ll try and come more often; I promise.

Can’t be next week though, cause Burt and I are off to Hawaii. He thought it would do us both good to get out before the cold comes, “Get recharged,” he said. But next month.  You doing anything on Christmas?”

“Couldn’t you spend the night. You know I get lonely up here. I don’t have much in common with most of these people. You could talk to Jim, the attendant. I know he lets people bring their cars up here sometimes. We could stay in the car and listen to the radio, like we used to.”

“I kind of promised Burt I’d be back by six. He’s making Chinese tonight. I’ve got to stop on the way home and get some of those noodle things that look like little sticks.

You should make some friends. How about Felicia Gomez, over there, by where the monuments end. I talked with her last time I was here. She’s from Nicaragua. Did you know that? She came here with her mother, who she said got deported, so she was raised by her Aunt.

She was telling me how they don’t celebrate Halloween, like we do. They have something called, Day of the Dead, or Souls Day, something like that. About building little shrines to remember those who have come and gone. Not as ghoulish as what we do. She said she talks to her Aunt, like we talk, when I come. Nicer, don’t you think.”

I wasn’t about to spend the night up here, and in the car at that. What is he thinking. We aren’t eighteen any more. And the radio? They don’t have anything worth listening too at this time of day. I only listen to the morning talk shows. I find out what is going on in the world that way.

“Try and cheer up. Just think, next year will be ten years. Can you imagine that. A decade you’ve been gone. Given any thought to the next decade. You should make plans. Burt says planning in life is everything, or you end up with nothing. Do you see what he means? Now go over and talk to Felicia. She will be having guests tonight. Go over, you need to get out more. Don’t you think? Make friends. 

Well, I’ve got to go before the store closes. Not much of a Chinese supper without those noodles. Next time I come I’ll bring you something nice from Hawaii. Now go over and spend the night at Felicia’s. She’s such a nice person for having had such a hard life. Make friends, it will do you good.

Last time I was here, she told me to encourage you to come visit her. She’s shy, or she’d ask herself, I’m sure. I think she likes you. You should go, spend the night at the party. Cheer yourself up. Don’t forget to say Hi for me.

The mower guy is coming back. Better go, can’t keep Burt waiting. Enjoy the party!”

I can tell you one thing, I ain’t comin back here in December. You have any idea what it’s like here in the winter?