Thompson and Thompson

“Have a good day, sir!” The guy at the cashier said as Charlie left the secondhand store with his newly bought second hand coat. Charlie wasn’t one to usually buy secondhand things but the coat was a singular exception. It bore too much of a resemblance to the coat he remembered his father wearing to work, as a kid for him to resist the urge to buy it. The fact that his father was now gone only further promoted him to purchase the coat. Along with the fact that most of his memories of his father often featured that coat of his. His father was one who was rather possessive and protective of his coat, never found too far from it. It was an odd thing, his behaviour when it came to his coat but we all have our antics. Charlie was on his way to his mother’s house for their weekly dinners when he espied the familiar looking coat through the window of the second hand store and instantly brought his car to an abrupt stop to buy the coat. It was an impulsive decision but one he didn’t regret doing. After buying the coat, he hopped back in the car, placed the bag with the coat inside a larger bag that was next to him in the passenger and drove off to his mother’s house, all while hoping with his entire beating heart that he would not receive a fine for parking on a double yellow line. Again. Though, honestly, majority of the fines he’d received in his entire life had something to do with his occasionally impulsive behaviour. Within a couple of minutes, he’d gotten to his mother’s house and taken the large bag with him. Inside the large bag was a couple of things his mother had asked him to get the last time he was at a furniture store. He rang the bell five times. A thing he did ever since he was a kid. The habit stuck around and while some found it annoying, his mother didn’t. Mainly because it allowed her to know who it was before even getting up. Not many people rang the doorbell five times. A couple of seconds passed after the fifth ring when the door finally flung open. “Oh, how nice it is to see you again! I’ve missed you oh so much, Charlie!” His mother greeted with a wide, welcoming smile and a hug. She released him from her grip and paused for a moment. “Of course, that’s assuming that it’s actually you and not just some random stranger wearing an awfully realistic mask of my son. If it is the latter, so far great job. Charlie always rings the bell five times and giving you some more tips on how to act like him, well, he always slows down when going upstairs to take a better look at the paintings hanging on the wall. After that, when he comes down, he always makes a comment of sorts on one of them. The one in the centre. That’s because it changes every couple of weeks. I paint when I have nothing to do with happens quite often and when I particularly like one, I’ll hang it up by the stairs so hence, the often changes.” She paused, acting like she was trying to think of some more things he always did that a random person might not know. “Ha ha. Very funny. It’s nice to see you too, mum.” He greeted her right back with an amused smile at his mother’s antics. She stepped aside, letting him step into the house. He then took the bag containing the now, his coat out of the larger bag and handed the larger bag to her. “The stuff you wanted from the furniture store. Pillow covers to replace the stained with sauce ones, they look exactly the same as the old ones, as you requested. A new table lamp for the one the Roomba accidentally crashed and hence, spoiled, in the guest room. And lastly, a couple of new floating shelves.” “Thank you. You can put that bag on the coffee table. I’ll be back in a moment.” With that, she left and went to put it in her room. Why? Charlie often found himself asking that question when it came to his mother. Though this time, it seemed more logical. Not logical. More logical. When it came to his mother, the word logical, by itself wasn’t one that came to mind. Chances were, it was placed there to remind her to replace the things and install the shelves. Otherwise, if not placed in a location to remind her to do so, well, everything to do with installing the shelves and replacing the objects would become a distant memory. He put the bag down and seated himself on the sofa, waiting for her to return. The two had a routine. Every week, they’d meet at her house for dinner. They’d exchange pleasantries before sitting down on the sofa. They’d sit on the sofa and watch a movie. Any movie, really. From sci-fi to horror. From stories about superheroes saving the world to stories about the bond between human and beast. After they finished watching, the pre ordered food would’ve arrived and they’d eat while watching something else. When nine finally came, they’d say their goodbyes and on his way home, he’d call her and they’d talk until he reached. That day was no different. At least that’s what they thought. Because fate had a different plan in mind. His mother returned with a bowl of popcorn and a wide smile. “There’s some more popcorn being prepared. The timer will ring when it’s done. In the meantime, we have this!” She raised the overfilled bowl like it was a key to the locked door and they’d been stuck in the room for way too long. Or like it was their saving grace. “Okay. You picked a movie?” He asked, tasting a kernel of popcorn cautiously. She prepared popcorn for their movie watching sessions all the time but it still didn’t stop him from being cautious with anything to do with his mother and food. His past experiences of inedible food and his mother kept him cautious of whatever it was that was supposed to be eaten and prepared by his mother. Popcorn, was the one exception. Mainly because there wasn’t much actual cooking involved but rather pressing buttons on the microwave. Though given the fact that his mother had once burned microwaveable food in the microwave, once again reminded Charlie as to why he was cautious. “Yup. Recently released.” She pressed a button on the remote control, causing the movie to start playing. A while after, the timer for the popcorn rang, the sound alerting both Charlie and his mother. She was about to get up to get the popcorn when he stood up first. “I’ll get it.” “Okay, I’ll pause the movie.” With that said, Charlie went to get the popcorn and she paused the movie. The popcorn was already in a bowl when heated up so all he needed to do was get the bowl out and take it back to the living room. Except for the fact that the bowl, upon first contact, burned him. Not a hospital type of burn but rather a withdraw hand immediately thanks to instinct type of burn. He quickly grabbed a hand towel and used it to hold the bowl and not feel the heat. He carefully and slowly made his way back to the living room, not wanting to accidentally spill any of the popcorn. When he got to the living room, he found his mother holding up the coat in front of her with a shocked look plastered on her face. Her shocked look replicating the one on his. Though his was the first one to go. “Mum, I,” “Charlie, how did you get your father’s coat?” She asked, slowly turning to face him. “Wait, that’s Dad’s coat? But I bought it at a second hand store,” he responded with a confused expression. His father loved his coat, said it brought him good luck. He would never have just given it up. Especially considering the fact that his father was the same person who never left home without his coat, sewed his phone number into it to make sure that if it ever got lost, it’d find it’s way to him and treated the coat like it was a national treasure. She sat down and put the coat right next to her. “It is. You see that pocket in there? He sewed it in himself to put his pen. I even remember coming home to find that he’d pricking himself when using the needle twice. And those numbers sewed in there. That was his phone number. He wanted to make sure that if it ever got lost, it’d find its way back to him. This, oh it most definitely is his.” She opened the coat up to reveal the hidden pocket she mentioned and the sewed numbers on the coat. “But he’d never just give it up. Dad loved this coat,” Charlie put down the bowl of popcorn on the coffee table and sat down. “I know. But that isn’t the strangest part. He was cremated in this coat.” He froze. It was impossible. If one was cremated in a piece of clothing, logic dictated that said piece of clothing was to become nothing but ashes afterwards. He moved towards the coat to inspect it more closely and that was when he realised that there was something in the sewed in pocket. Eyebrows furrowed, he put his hand inside the pocket and took the object out. He didn’t know what he was expecting but what he found, was far from anything he could’ve possibly imagined. It was a business card. It’d be less odd if the words were different. Thompson and Thompson, the large, silver words in cursive against a black background on the card read. The words’ font looking like something you’d expect to find on some fancy, expensive wedding invitation or another fancy, expensive and formal events’ invitation. That was okay by itself though it was the words underneath that brought back the shocked expression on Charlie’s face. In the exact same font and silver, it read, faking deaths since 1456. There was a set of numbers at the back and one was circled in red ink. In his father’s neat handwriting, was written, call soon and double underlined. It was unmistakable his father’s handwriting. There was no doubt. His father had one of those distinctive types of handwriting that couldn’t be forged easily. He handed it over to his mother, leaning back against the sofa and taking in deep breaths, an attempt to take everything in. Not that it was so easy. When he looked over at his mother’s expression, it was expressed the shock they both felt. “So, what does this mean?” He finally asked. His mother didn’t respond for a long time but when she finally did, it confirmed both their suspicions. “I think,” she paused, taking in a deep breath. As though saying the words that they both knew were most likely true out loud would seal it. “I think it means your father faked his death.” There was only one question left to answer. Why?