Bag of Bones

An oven door opens to reveal a prime rib having arrived at the apex of its perfection. The wafting aroma is unleashed on Oliver, along with a wave of heat. With his mittened hands, he pulls the rack and takes a step back to clear the doors. 

He admires the succulent cut of meat. He breathes it in, his mouth watering and his stomach growling. 

Oliver makes his way with the prime rib to the counter top for carving. Another cook passes close to him, putting his foot out just at the edge of the floor mat. Oliver fails to notice, he trips, spilling the meat on the floor. 

The other cook is a broad shouldered, middle aged ex-convict, who has given Oliver a hard time since his first day.

“What’s the matter, kid, never learned how to walk?”

Oliver looks back angrily with his jaw clenched, but says nothing. 

Having heard the sound, the chef appears. She assesses the scene, her mind calculating the costs as her temperature rises. She looks at Oliver, her rage focusing into an intense stare. 

“Are you okay?”

Still on the floor, his stomach knotting as the fear sinks in. “Yeah, Chef, I’m okay.”

Her teeth grind as she listens to Oliver’s answer. Once convinced he is unharmed, she commences her tirade.

“You have got to be the most useless set of hands I’ve ever hired. Take the meat out of the oven and put it on the counter. How is it that I can’t even trust you to get that done?”

Feeling that he should put up some kind of defense, Oliver tries to explain.

“Chef, I swear, it’s not my fault. He tripped me!”, accusing the other cook.

The chef asks him plainly, “Alex, did you have anything to do with this?”

He throws his hands up in declaration of his innocence and feigns shock. 

“I swear to God on my mother’s eyes, I got nothing to do with this.”

Satisfied, she turns her attention back to Oliver. 

“Look, I’ve had enough of your excuses. I’ve never seen anyone screw up in a kitchen more than you. I’ve had enough, you're done. Pack up your knives, get the rest of your things, and get out of my sight. You're fired.”

Oliver, defeated and struggling to keep his eyes from welling up, acquiesces. 

“Yes, Chef.”

With that, the chef walks away, as does Alex, while chuckling under his breath. Oliver meanwhile collects his things. 

***

Oliver, head held low, and his shoulders slumping, just barely notices the three day eviction notice on the door before sliding his key into the lock.

“Really?”

He walks into, what is still for now, his home, closing the door behind him. He drops his things by the door and collapses on his couch. Soon, a little cat jumps up next to him and butts his head against him and lies down. Oliver, now in tears, gently coils his arm around the little cat.

“I’m sorry, buddy. I don’t know what we’re going to do. I’m so sorry.”

Staring back at him, showing concern, the cat recognizes his sadness. Oliver closes his eyes and starts to drift to sleep. Only moments pass before there is a knock at the door. He sits up, the cat remaining where he lies. Still on the couch, he again hears the knocking at the door. 

“Fine, fine, I’m coming,” he mutters to himself. 

Looking through the peephole, Oliver sees a man he doesn’t recognize wearing a finely tailored suit and checking the time on a sleek Rolex watch. Confused but curious, he slowly opens up the door. 

“Can I help you?” he meekly asks the visitor. 

Head high and shoulders back, the man responds, “Ahh…Mr Sawyer, so glad that I’ve been able to reach you. My name is William Ellsworth, counsel for my employer, Thomas Addams. I’ve come to speak on his behalf. May I enter?”

Caught off guard, Oliver pauses a moment before responding, “Uhh..yeah, sure, come on in.”

Oliver opens the door to let Ellsworth through. Grabbing a chair he offers it to Ellsworth. “Sit, please.”

“Thank you,” responds Ellsworth before sitting on the simple wooden chair.

Ellsworth’s posture is perfect and his hands rest on his knees. “Mr. Sawyer, Mr. Addams has asked me to come here on his behalf to request your presence. There are matters he wishes to discuss with you.”

Oliver, failing to understand, looks at Ellsworth dumbfoundedly and asks, “Why?”

With a crease of a smile, Ellsworth responds, “Alas, Mr. Sawyer, I am not at liberty to divulge that information at this time. Mr. Addams has made it quite clear that he wishes to explain himself. I understand that you might find all this a little odd, and admittedly the circumstances are atypical, but I believe that once you speak to Mr. Addams you’ll find that it has been well worth your time.”

Oliver does the best he can to respond, “Uhhh…ummm…yeah, I mean of course I’ll meet with him. What do I have to do?” 

Reaching into his jacket pocket, Ellsworth pulls out a business card and hands it to Oliver.

“Call the number on this card when you are ready, and I will have a car sent to take you to Mr. Addams’ estate.” 

His instincts tell him that this is some kind of trick but he has little to lose. “So, I just call this number and you’ll send someone to get me?”

Ellsworth gives a nod before continuing, “Exactly right, sir, now if you don’t mind, I must be leaving. There are other matters which must be attended to. I do ask that you meet sooner rather than later, I’m afraid Mr. Addams is not a well man and his time is running short.” 

Ellsworth stands up and says, “Thank you for your time, Mr. Sawyer, I do hope to hear from you soon,” before leaving back through the door.

***

The next day, having slept on the matter, with the little cat curled in his lap, Oliver stares at Ellsworth’s card. After sifting through his trepidation and anxiety, he finally dials the number.

The phone rings three times before being answered by a female voice. 

“Good morning, you’ve reached the office of William Ellsworth, my name is Veronica, how might we help you?”

Oliver clears his throat before speaking, 

“Uhhh…hello, this is Oliver Sawyer. I was given this number regarding Mr. Addams.”

Veronica sounds more attentive at the mention of the name.

“Of course sir, we’ve been expecting your call. Would you like a car to be sent to your home address?”

Trying to keep his voice steady, “Yes, I would like to have a car sent.”

“Very well sir, you may expect a car to arrive within the hour. You’ll be taken to the Addams’ estate for a private audience. Mr. Addams will clarify the purpose of your meeting personally and answer any further questions you may have. Thank you for calling, Mr Sawyer.” That said, Veronica disconnects the call. 

Oliver sets Ellsworth’s card and his phone down on the coffee table. He pets the sleeping cat on his lap for a few minutes before picking him up and laying him back down on a couch cushion so he can stand up. The cat stretches before curling up and going back to sleep. 

Oliver looks through his closet for something appropriate to wear. He slides hangers back and forth finding mostly t-shirts before coming across a cheap long sleeve button up shirt. He puts on a pair of black denim jeans and three eyed Dr. Martens, looks at himself in the mirror and sighs. “What the hell could this guy want from me?” 

He feels his phone vibrate in his pocket, pulling it out to see a message. 

“Good day, Mr. Sawyer. Your car shall be arriving in ten minutes.”

“I’ll be back later, Bubs.” Oliver says to the cat, who is sound asleep, before he heads out the door to wait.

A limousine pulls up. Out of the car appears a chauffeur, dressed in all black, complete with cap. The chauffeur opens the door for Oliver, and says, “Good day, sir.”

Being more than he was expecting, Oliver is taken off guard. After a long pause, he finally responds, “Thank you,” before climbing inside. 

Once in, Oliver notes how spacious and elegant the cab of the car is. He thinks to himself, “What is this? What could this old man want from me? Does he have the wrong guy? Is this some kind of elaborate trick to harvest my organs? Why am I here?”

The chauffeur’s voice breaks Oliver’s train of thought as he informs him, “There’s a liqueur bar in the side compartment should you feel the need for refreshment, sir.” 

Thinking that it may calm his nerves, Oliver opens up the compartment to find an assortment of bottles. He pulls a bottle of sherry and pours himself a glass. He sniffs it before carefully sipping at it, and settling down in his seat for the drive. 

***

After about an hour, the limousine arrives at a beautifully adorned wrought iron gate which opens to let the car drive through. The grounds are alive with workers tending to the estate’s immaculately maintained gardens. 

The car pulls up to the front of the manor house and the chauffeur, again, opens the door for Oliver, who exits to find Ellsworth waiting for him. “Mr Sawyer, so glad that you chose to come sooner rather than later. I’m afraid that Mr. Addams’ health has been in decline for some time and has lately taken a turn for the worse. There is little time left for him to conduct his business with you. If you would care to follow me, I will take you to him. This way please.”

Ellsworth leads Oliver through the house, up the stairs, and to the entrance of the master bedroom.

Still not knowing what any of this is about, or what is expected of him, Oliver is obviously nervous. “What does somebody like Mr. Addams, who I’ve never met, want from me? Why am I here?”

Unsurprised by the question, Ellsworth replies, “My apologies, sir, I’m afraid that that is not for me to say. However, I will tell you that everything should be made clear shortly. Best of luck to you, Mr. Sawyer, Mr. Addams awaits.” Ellsworth waves his arm, signaling Oliver to enter. 

Oliver walks into the room. The furnishings are all of finely carved ebony… The armoire, the desk, the bed at the center of the room, all of it. The floor is dominated by a beautifully crafted Persian rug.

Now standing at the foot of the bed, Oliver looks at the old man, who appears nothing more than a bag of bones in silken pajamas. Not knowing what to say, Oliver stays silent until Mr. Addams speaks in an old and creaky voice. 

“Hello my boy, thank you for coming to see me. I only wished that I’d had the courage to reach out sooner.”

Oliver’s curiosity, eating away at him, is too much to bear. He asks, “I’m sorry, I don’t understand, who am I to you, Mr. Addams? Why is it so important that I be here?”

The old man chuckles sadly to himself before going on, “Of course, let me explain. I had a daughter once. She was my greatest joy in life. She was beautiful, as well as quite brilliant. I had such hopes for her. Then one day something unexpected happened. She was just sixteen.” Addams clears his voice then starts coughing up phlegm, which he spits into a handkerchief before continuing. 

“She met this boy, this poor raggedy urchin from god knows where, and my beautiful daughter was in love. More than that though, she’d become pregnant. I was furious at finding out the news. My brilliant daughter’s future, snatched away by some common street trash. 

I told her to end it with him, that I would take care of the situation and that all would be as it was, but she refused. I told her that if she was to make the choice of staying with him that she would have no help from me. I told her that she was no longer welcome under my roof, and with that, she left. We never spoke again.

Years passed before the day I received the news that there had been an accident. My daughter and her husband apparently had been struck by a semi truck while on the way to pick up their young son from his first day of preschool.”

Oliver goes white at the telling of the story, remembering the day he waited and waited and waited but no one came. His parents, killed on the way to pick him up.

“Are you trying to tell me that you're my grandfather?”

His answer, paused due to a bout of coughing, comes with a saddened tone.

“I fear for better or for worse, I am my boy, I am.”

Oliver finds himself awash with anger and pain, his insides churn and he fears he may vomit at any time. His eyes, welling with tears, he finally finds words. “Where were you? I had nothing. I had no one. They passed me around from one foster family to the next, no one ever wanted to keep me. Now you're telling me that the whole time I had family that could have helped, but just didn’t. You know what, I felt like nothing yesterday, but today I feel like even less.”

Addams’ voice is genuinely remorseful, “I’m so sorry. I’m sorry for what I did to your mother, and to you. I am a selfish and stubborn man. I felt wronged by your father for taking your mother away from me. I was so certain I was in the right, but the truth is he took nothing from me, I lost her all on my own. Before I pass, I want you to know that I have no greater regret.”

Oliver’s anger settles into an empty numbness. His response is cold with flecks of cruelty, “Is that why I’m here, to forgive you, so you can die with a clear conscience? I’m sorry, I can’t forgive you, there’s just too much, I just can’t.”

Oliver backs away and walks out of the room, finding Ellsworth waiting in the hall. His heart racing and his body tense, “I don’t want to be here any more, I’d like to go home now.”

Ellsworth responds, his tone compassionate, “Of course, Mr. Sawyer, the car is waiting for you in front.”

Oliver descends briskly down the stairs and through the front door, the chauffeur waiting patiently. “Shall I be taking you home, sir?”

To which Oliver simply responds, “Yes, please.”

The chauffeur opens the door for Oliver to enter, then gets into the driver’s seat. They head off.

***

The next day, Oliver quietly boxes away what few things he has, not knowing where he might take them. The cat watches him pack.

Again, he hears a knock. Opening the door, he sees Ellsworth standing on his front step holding some kind of album. 

“What does he want now?” Oliver asks, in a defeated tone. 

“I regret that Mr. Addams is no longer with us. Before his passing, he asked that I deliver this to you.”

Ellsworth hands the album to Oliver, who accepts and opens it to find it filled with pictures of his mother. On seeing the face he’d so long missed his legs give way and he collapses to the stoop. 

Ellsworth squats down so as to be level with Oliver and speaks, “There is more, Mr Sawyer. You were, at the time of his demise, his closest living relative, and as such, his heir. Now you should probably move. There’s someplace you have to be. 

“Where?”, asks Oliver.

No sooner said, there appears a moving crew behind Ellsworth, who continues, “Mr Addams thought that you may not find the manor to your satisfaction so he purchased a house where he thought you might be more comfortable. In short, Mr Sawyer, you're going home.”