False Farewell

False Farewell

Hayes, Virginia…wow, it’s been a while since I’d been home. Too damn long, if you ask me. What brought me back? A funeral. Well, a supposed funeral for my Uncle Nate.

Now, my uncle…he’s an oddball. Loveable, but an oddball. When he’s had enough of the world, he disappears for a few days. Just a few days, that’s all.

But this time, he’d been gone longer. Alisha, his girlfriend, became worried. She must have thought the worst had happened. I don’t know the full story, though.

So, I packed a weekend bag and headed up I-64 on a Friday afternoon. Bad idea, especially during the summer. Locals and tourists were flocking to Williamsburg for Busch Gardens or Colonial Williamsburg.

Traffic was moving at a snail's pace. There’s a section of the interstate that the state had been working on since I was born. That’s like over forty years.

The air conditioner in my old, beat-up Corolla was on the fritz. I drove with the windows down, but even that didn’t offer relief from the sweltering Virginia heat. The humid air clung to my skin like cheap glitter. I could feel sweat pooling underneath my breasts.

Before my trip, I’d looked up the drive time on Google Maps. It showed at least an hour. Yeah, it didn’t take into consideration that it was tourist season.

It was around two when I finally rolled across the Coleman Bridge. An hour drive? Bullshit! Damn traffic.

“Shit,” I muttered when I saw the toll booth. "At least there isn't a line."

I’d forgotten about the toll. As I waited, I dug through my purse for the money. When I pulled up, I was shocked that it was two dollars.

As I drove down Route 17, I was surprised by the changes. The photography studio was now a used sports shop. What the hell? Well, Gloucester County was growing. Nothing can stop progress, right?

When I stopped to turn onto Hickory Fork Road, I noticed a Wawa gas station where the tiny post office had been when I was a kid. Damn. More changes came as I turned. A church stood where a cornfield once was.

The only place that hadn’t changed was Granny’s house. A simple, white clapboard house with a wrap-around porch, rocking chairs, and white wicker patio furniture. As I pulled up, I saw a bunch of cars parked around the house.

Before getting out, I gathered my thoughts. I wasn’t ready to deal with this. Since it was a family affair, I knew my mother would be here. We’d had a falling out many years ago. It’d been around twenty years since we last talked.

I saw my granny and Uncle Wes step outside. From a distance, I could see the news of my uncle’s passing had aged her. My heart broke seeing her looking so lost.

My car door creaked as I got out. “There’s McKenzie,” I heard my uncle call out after he lit a cigarette.

As I walked up to the porch, I didn’t recognize many of the cars. My granny sat there, staring out at nothing. She didn’t even move when I walked up. Her dark eyes had a lifeless look. It was like losing my Uncle Nate took everything from her.

“Your Uncle Nate is gone, honey,” she said, her voice void of any life. “He’s gone.”

“Uncle West called me to let me know,” I said, leaning down to hug her. “Is there a casket or urn?”

My Uncle Wes caught my eye and motioned for me to follow him. Once we were out of earshot, he said, “You know your Uncle Nate disappears for a few days and then reappears, right?” I nodded, and he continued. “It’s been over a week. Maybe something happened that was too much for him.”

He didn’t have to say it. I was thinking the same thing. Maybe he went somewhere, away from the family and…I didn’t want to think that. But what if he did?

“Or, it could be Alisha hitting the panic button. He could have needed a few more days to himself,” I said as I lit a cigarette.

“That could be true,” my uncle looked around, and then lowered his voice. “But, what if he did, you know…”

The screen door squeaking open caught our attention. I was hoping it wasn’t my mother. Nope, it was Alisha. When she saw me, she came over to us.

“McKenzie, I’m glad you could make it,” her voice was soft and rough, as if she’d been crying.

“Is there an urn or casket?” I asked, trying not to be insensitive. Alisha looked away, wiping her eyes.

“He normally doesn’t stay gone this long,” she whispered. “It’s been a week.”

Now, I was curious why she hadn’t reported him missing. Normal people don’t just plan a funeral or memorial service for someone who is possibly missing.

That’s when my light bulb clicked on. “What exactly is going on here?” My uncle Wes looked at me. Alisha stammered, “I thought everyone gathered here could help out.”

“What do you mean?” my uncle asked, his voice edged with concern.

“Nate has been acting strange lately,” she cast her gaze over to where my granny was sitting and then lowered her voice. “He was saying things like would he be missed if something happened to him. Would he be remembered or forgotten.”

Still, something felt off. This weird vibe came over me as we walked inside. It intensified as I saw people I knew or didn’t know sitting there. They were sitting there, shooting the shit as if nothing was going on.

Alisha walked over to the false fireplace to get everyone’s attention. “Thank y’all for coming out. Nate would have been happy about who is here. I’m sure all of you have stories about Nate. Now is the time to share them.”

As a tall, burly man started to speak, a sudden scream interrupted him. The scream came from my mother. “Sorry,” she looked over at a room beside the living room. “For a moment, I thought I had seen Nate standing there.”

I tried not to roll my eyes. My Uncle Wes noticed and tried not to laugh. He excused himself to check out the room.

“Nancy, there ain’t no one there,” he called out.

“I swear that I saw Nate,” she insisted as my uncle came back into the living room.

Once everything calmed down, the stories started to flow. It was a macabre scene. Telling stories of someone who could just be missing. Everyone was acting like Uncle Nate had died. He could just be missing. Pink Floyd was playing in the background.

As the stories wound down, Alisha let out a sigh. That sounded weird to me. “Now, I have a surprise for y’all,” she announced as everyone looked at her.

That’s when my uncle Nate walked out of the room. The same room where my mother had said she’d seen him. He wore an ear-to-ear grin as he stepped beside Alisha.

Everyone was stunned. My granny was the first to speak. “Nathan Lee Murray, really? Why the hell did you do this to us? What is wrong with you?”

“I’m sorry, mama,” he apologized as he walked over to hug her. She pushed him away with a scowl. “I was wondering if anyone would show up if something happened to me. So, Alisha and I planned this.”

“Nate, that was fucked up,” my uncle Wes told him. “We all thought something had happened to you.”

My Uncle Nate glanced at me with a faint smile. “Not everyone thought that, Wes. McKenzie sort of knew something was up.”

“Well, yeah,” I looked at him. “There was no urn. No mention of a casket. I thought it was strange if you were just missing, why hadn’t anyone reported you missing. Why plan a funeral or memorial service?”

He laughed as he hugged me. “Well, my wishes are to be cremated, not buried. I wanted to see if I would have anyone showing up.”

Laughter replaced the sadness. Everyone was relieved. My granny was still upset, though.

There was a knock on the door. “Oh, that’s lunch,” Alisha said, laughing as she gathered her wallet.

“Uncle Nate,” I said, sitting down on the couch. “The next time you do this, plan it better.”

He sat down beside me and patted my hand. “There won’t be a next time. I know my friends and family would be here.”

The smell of fried chicken tickled my nose. I got up and helped Alisha set up the tables. Even though it was a messed up way to see who would be there when you pass, I guess his plan worked.