The Purpose of Patios

Frank and Burt had lived in the outskirts of town, nestled among the trees and streams, since they were kids. They had inherited their homes right next door to one another from their fathers and on down the line.

Eventually, they figured, that if they were going to live next to one another for an eternity, they might as well build an adjoining porch. This would prevent them from walking across the shallow ditch, a scar on the land, to get to each other’s houses. The porch was simple. A set of a few stairs descended to the ground level, then a flat planked surface spanned the distance between. A guard rail was erected. Then they placed their favorite chairs there in the space between. Frank had an old fold-up rocking chair and Burt put down his wooden Adirondack.

“Beautiful morning.” Frank grumbled as Burt sat in his rocking camp chair. He tipped his bucket hat to his friend. The sun peeked through the spaces in the clouds, lighting up the land.

“Yep.” Burt groaned as he sat. “These knees are gonna pop outta place one o’ these days for sure.”

“Yep.” Frank grabbed his cane and tapped it on the wooden patio. “That’s why I brought Mary wi’ me.”

Burt looked at his friends from beneath his matching bucket hat, pulling his glasses to the tip of his nose so he could see up close. “When’d you get that?”

“I picked ‘er up over at a the corner pharmacy when I got my pills.”

“That new thing they built?”

“Naw. ‘Course not. I got it over at Mike’s.”

“That his grandkid workin’ there?”

Frank thought before responding, trying to recall the young man. “I’m thinkin’ so. Can’t be sure. Mike was the private type.”

“Where’s he at now?”

“Mike?”

“No, ye’ ol’ codger. The Easter bunny.” Burt slapped his friend on the shoulder. “‘Course I mean Mike.”

“Yikes. Easy, bud. You’re gonna pop my shoulder outta place! Last I heard,” he pondered again, “he was goin’ to the beach.”

Burt scoffed. “Sounds hot.”

Frank nodded, “Yep. My grands are always goin’ on ‘bout the beach. They ask if I’d go with ‘em, but I tells ‘em that I’m so old and wrinkled that the sun’d just bake me the rest o’ the way.”

The pair laughed synchronously as a shiny car pulled up across the road where some land had lied vacant after its books had been closed.

Burt commented first. “What kind o’ life runin’ commie you think is gonna put somethin’ on that land o’er there?”

Frank coughed. “Well, I’m willing to be that they gonna build one of those McMansions.”

Burt looked at Frank over his glasses again, “A what now?”

Frank looked suspiciously at his neighbor, “You ain’t never heard o’ them?”

“Them what?”

“McMansions.”

“Like the burger joint with the shakes?”

“I dunno.”

“Well what is it?”

“Just something the kids say.”

“Your kids?”

Frank scratched his head through his old bucket hat. “Yeah. My grands. They watch these design shows on the Netflix. And they go on ‘bout them big houses,” Frank spread his arms out wide to illustrate just how big they were, “and they call ‘em McMansions. Like they ain’t appreciatin’ what they got.”

“But why?”

“Why they call ‘em that?”

Burt nodded, “Yea.”

“I dunno. Just somethin’ they say.”

Burt was silent for a moment and leaned back in his chair. “Kids say strange stuff nowadays.”

The pair was silent for a few more moments when a man got out of the back of the shiny car. He was on the phone, and he was quite animated with his hands as he walked around to the other side of the car, looking over the expanse of land.

“What do you figure that youngin’ is so mad about over there?” Frank asked.

“Pro’ly tryin’ to get someone to pay his bills for ‘im.”

“Bills?”

“Yea. You know those youngin’. They always wantin’ someone to do e’rything for ‘em.”

“Yep. That’s right. But…” he watched the man, noted his black suit in the afternoon sun. The black car. The man’s watch glimmered. Probably an expensive watch. “Bet’cha he’s a lawyer.”

“A lawyer?”

“Yep.”

“Hm.” Burt rubbed his chin for a moment. “You think he tryin’ to unload that land over there?”

Just as Frank was about to respond, the man turned and saw them. He placed his hand over his eyes to block the sun. Then he waved. Not to be rude, the old men waved back. Frank saw the man say something into the phone then put the phone away. He walked toward the friends.

“Pardon me, gentlemen.” He said with a slight bow.

“I don’ suppose I been called that for some years.” Burt posed.

“Yep.” Frank nodded his agreement. “Burt ain’t ne’er been gentle in his life.”

Burt nodded, smiling. “Tha’s right. I was a boxer in my day.”

The man in the black suit showed his surprise. “A boxer, you say?”

“Tha’s what I said.” Burt retorted.

“Not a good one, though, mind ya’.” Frank added with a chuckle.

“Boy, I’ll clock you now.” Burt yelled.

Frank laughed harder, “Ain’t gon’ hurt none. Put them soft hands down.” He laughed so hard that he started a coughing fit. Burt shifted gears and began to pat and rub his friends back.

Burt looked at the man. “All them years of smoke.”

“Oh,” the man said, “when did you quit?”

Frank finally regained himself and waved Burt off. “Oh. I guess I retired long ways ago. Some thirty some odd years?”

“Um… retired?”

“Yep.” Burt leaned forward, “He was a local fire chief.”

“OH!” The man laughed at himself, “I thought you mean that he quit smoking…”

“What?” Frank queried, “No, that’s a disgusting habit. You shouldn’t smoke. Terrible. My mamma died from the emphysema. Took every last breath she had them cigarettes did. Plenty o’ horrible things happen due to smokin’.”

Burt nodded somberly, then turned his attention to the man in the suit, “Wha’chu wantin’, young man?”

The man straightened and cleared his throat. “Oh. Right. Well, you see I’m a lawyer—”

“Told ya so!” Frank screamed and slapped his hand across his knees. “I told you he was a lawyer!”

Burt waved him off, “Yeah, yeah. We get it. You watin’ somethin’ wi’ that land o’er there?”

“Well,” the young man straightened his back, “I have and interested party who wants to develop this land, but—”

“Who?” Frank asked, unabashed.

“Sorry, I can’t say.”

“Can’t or won’t?” Burt posed.

The man cleared his throat. “Uh, both.”

The two friends looked at one another, then scoffed synchronously.

“Anyway,” the man in the suit continued, “could you tell me the story of that land?”

“The story…” Frank’s voice went somewhere far away in that moment, picturing the history of that parcel and the story that it told. He could see the events happening right before his eyes. He remembered that was the job that almost made his rethink his career…

“No.” Burt said, breaking the silence. “Why you need to know?”

“Well…” The suited man rubbed the back of his head, thinking, “I can’t really say…”

“Never trust a man who can’t say nothing,” Frank proffered, regaining his connection to reality. “In fact, you ain’t even given your name yet. If you can trust a man who can’t say nothing and won’t offer their name, then I’ll eat my hat!”

“And I’ll hold you to it, Frank.” Burt laughed. “Bet on it.”

“Alright then!”

The two men shook hands.

The suited man, stood with agape eyes at the odd interaction between the two men. “I do apologize, gentlemen…”

“I already told you. We— ‘specially Burt here— ain’t gentle. He gots them baby hands!” Frank interjected.

Burt brandished his fist, “Easy there, tiger!”

The man chuckled, embarrassed. “Of course. Can I start over?”

The two men grunted and nodded simultaneously, as if they had practiced the motion for years.

“Well, my name is Erick Vaughn, and I am a lawyer. I represent a client at my firm who is interested in developing this land.” He pointed over his shoulder at the large plot of acreage behind him. “However, my client wants to be sure this is the correct plot of land before the contracts are drawn and finalized. As such, I was sent me to—”

“Run the errands?”

“—uh, I suppose so, yes. As a junior partner, I was delegated to perform this task.”

“Uh-huh.” The two men intoned. then Burt added, “Delegated? You mean you got the short end of the stick, right?”

Erick blushed a bit. “It’s just part of the job. It’s something that needs to be checked.”

“Can’t you just use the Google?” Frank interrupted.

Erick looked at the old man, “We have. We’ve used Google maps to check and we think it is correct, but our client insists that… what were their words… ‘There ain’t no technology that can—”

“—replace the human heart!” the friends finished at the same time.

Burt asked, “Who’d you say your client was again?”

Erick shook his head, “I didn’t.”

“Hm.” Frank squinted as he rocked in his chair, “Seems to me that your client, whoever he is, may know more than he be lettin’ on.”

“Perhaps.”

“Perhaps.” Burt mocked.

“So, if you two wouldn’t mind telling me the story of this land, my client has grown quite impatient with my firm, in no fewer words, ‘for trusting a computer to do the work of a man’.”

“Sounds like a wise fella, if you ask me.” Burt committed astutely.

Frank agreed silently with a nod. “Well, if you must know. We can fill in some of the details, can’t we, Burt?”

Burt pondered this for a moment, “I s’pose so.”

Each man took a breath and Erick leaned against the railing of their adjoined patio, a literal link between the two men’s lives.

“Well,” Frank began and each man shared a distant look as if they were watching a scene on film, a film that replayed in their minds on repeat across the street, “must have been forty some odd years ago…”

“…there used to be a farm o’er there on that plot where a family had grown for generations. As many ‘round here have—”

“Oh, a farm. That’s perfect—”

“Who’s tellin’ the story here!” Burt pounded his hand on his Adirondack chair in frustration.

“My apologies.”

“Where was I…” Burt rubbed his forehead, lifting his bucket hat.

Frank said, “Generations.”

“Right,” Burt replaced his hat. “See people ‘round here tend to stick around. But eventually, people die…”

“So when a new family moved in,” Frank continued, “lots of people were surprised. Bein’ so far away from the city and all.”

“But it ain’t stopped no one. But once they’re here, they tend to stay. But this family came in, there was a man and his wife…”

“… an’ they had three kid, if I remember right.”

Burt nodded.

“Theresa, who was the youngest; Bartholomew, the middle…”

“… and Bertrum, the eldest…”

“Yep.” Frank agreed. “The husband was a farmer. Family had owned farms in other areas, but wanted something for himself and his family…”

“… See, he got tired of working for the government, so he sold his land and bought the plot over yonder.”

“Problem was that the barn that had been there was right old. Older ‘an Frank here.”

“Easy, bud.”

“I ain’t mean nothin’.” Burt apologized. “Anyway, after a spell, the man there worked for a time fixin’ up the ol’ place, makin’ sure it was livable. Big project if you ask me.”

“Too big.” Frank asserted. “But he was sure of it. Problem was the he ain’t know exactly how old that ol’ barn and house was. And… well, it was one o’ the worst calls I ever got…”

“Frank gets a bit wound up with old fire stories, you see.”

Erick perked up. “A fire, you say?”

Frank nodded, “One day the kids was playing in the barn together while mom and pop were in the house, gettin’ the food ready. And… well, the kids was messing around in the hay loft. But ol’ Bertrum liked to sneak the smokes.”

“The other littles was down below, rasslin’ around, you see. And Bert musta fell asleep. Cigarette lit the hay loft up in blazes.”

“Dry summer.” Frank mumbled.

“Yeah. Was a dry one.” Burt added solemnly. “Well, that fire went up fast, but Bartholomew fancied himself a hero, reading the Superman comics and all. Went up into that loft. Little Theresa screaming loudly…”

“Oh my…” Erick was emotionally unprepared for a tale such as this, so he steeled himself a bit.

Frank noticed, “It’s OK, sonny. People ‘round here don’t talk ‘bout it much on account of the sadness and all.”

“Kinda hard though, when you stare across at it all day long.” Burt whispered.

Frank took a breath and continued. “By the time we got there on the scene of the fire, the barn was darn near burnt up. Mom was outside wailin’. Dad had gone in for the kids…” But Frank’s voice was strained and he trailed off.

Erick pressed, “And?”

“Well, sonny,” Burt said, “I guess you oughta be able to fill in the blanks, right?”

He nodded. “I’m sorry to have to force you to retell that experience.”

“Well, one last bit,” Frank held up his finger, wiping his face clear and clearing his throat, “the Mom, Urma was her name, was the lone survivor. She stayed in the house for a bit, with the old burned down barn in the back. But she didn’t last long. Eventually, the house went up too. then Urma vanished. No one knew where she was. I got that call too, you see. But when the fire was out and we looked ‘round, ol’ Urma wasn’t there. Which, after it all, was a relief. Even if we had no idea where she was. Folks like you came ‘round askin’ questions, but no one knew nothin’, and the land just lie there, fallow. No one wanted it, on account of them thinking ‘bout the horrible thing that happened there.”

And then the trio went silent. A breeze picked up, clearing the air.

Then Erick stood and buttoned his suit coat, sweat mottling his skin, “I thank you gentlemen. But I must be going.” His phone was buzzing in his pocket. He grabbed it out, looked at it, then turned to leave. “Thanks again. Maybe we’ll see each other ‘round.”

“I stand by what I said before,” Frank called out.

“And don’t worry ‘bout that, Mr. Erick.” Burt waved, “I plan on holdin’ him to it. That’s for sure.”

Weeks and months passed, and the seasons came around, leaves drying up and falling, the flowers peeking out from the ground and the color returned to the earth. And no matter the time of day or weather endured, Frank and Burt sat upon their adjoined patios, their lives forever connected, hovering over the dried up mark in the earth, talking about whatever came across their minds, enjoying each others company. Until finally, something in their world changed. It came in the shape of a shiny black car with a young man, whose suit coat was traded for a breathable oxford shirt without the tie.

“See you came dressed a bit more ready for us.” Burt hollered as Erick Vaughn exited the car.

He stepped up to the men and sat upon the railing as he did all those months before. “I did come better dressed than last time, though it’s not quite as hot as it once was.”

“Yep.” Frank agreed.

“Well, Erick opened his hands. The two men shook them. “I come bearing answers that you two were wanting awhile back.”

“Oh?” Burt said, intrigued.

“Yes.”

“Do tell.” Frank added, smacking his cane upon the wooden planks.

Erick smiled, and told his tale, “Well, my firm was sought out a while back and asked about a plot of land that our client was interested in purchasing and developing. But, she was adamant—”

“She?” The two men proposed.

“She was adamant that we verify the plot was correct and she would take nothing less than a man’s word. This was after, naturally, we had done all the online research to check on it. She would take nothing less. In fact, she said that there were two men who lived across the plot whom I should seek out to verify this.” And Erick held out his hands to the two men.

“Us.” Burt nodded.

“Yes. You two.” Erick affirmed. “In fact, she said that one of them was the fireman who tried to help her family overcome the tragedy.”

Tears flowed down Frank’s face like a river’s current, “I went o’er to that house for ol’ Urma for weeks. Brought her food. Cleaned up the house. All that. But she wasn’t ready for none of it.”

Burt was silent, letting his the current run.

“Burt here helped prepare some of those meals himself.”

“Yep.” Burt concurred. “My late wife, Betty, rest her soul, was a heck of a cook, she was.”

“Well,” Erick said, “Urma wants to dedicate this parcel to her family, and rebuild it with a small community center and playground that would be paid for through a trust that she set up after she received counseling for the tragedy.”

Burt suddenly got up and went into the house.

“I see.”

“Construction will start soon, but she wanted me to tell you both. In person, of course.”

“Sure thing,” Frank added, wiping his face with a handkerchief. “Never let a machine do a man’s job.”

Burt came out of the house with something in his hands and sat down.

“What you got there, Burt?” Frank asked.

Burt smiled and held out a plate with a fork, a knife, and a salt packet. “For your hat.”

“For some reason, I ain’t hungry no more…”

And the three of them laughed together.