Fred's Jacket

Fred put the golden jacket in the walnut chest. It had a good run, accompanying him to countless parties, a wedding here and there and even some funerals. It has a particular smell, but not in an unpleasant way. It smells of perfume - his own and others - a little bit of smoke and a lot of a great time. It’s the last thing he puts away after tidying up his attic. Time for new things.

Ben is in the attic with his mother. They are finishing up sorting all the books, knick-knacks and clothes. There was a lot. Piles of memories he wasn’t a part of. His mother sometimes seemed to have memories picking up a painting or a pair of shoes, but never gave away more than a sigh or a chuckle. It’s her uncle, Fred, who lived all the memories attached to these items.

They went to his funeral earlier this week. The funeral home was packed with people, but they were the only family present. That didn’t really surprise Ben. He saw Fred a handful of times and didn’t know much about him. His family didn’t exactly ignore his great-uncle, but he could feel the tension in his room when he was mentioned.

For obvious reasons, Ben is embarrassed to admit he was actually looking forward to the funeral. Most disturbing was the fact that it was a welcome distraction from his daily life. He hasn’t gone out in ages and there haven’t been flings, let alone dates, to speak of in so long. He heard that Lily Allen song a couple of days ago where she sings “She’s got an alright job, but it’s not a career,” and he felt that in his stomach. It’s not that he hates his job, it’s just not what he imagined doing when he enrolled in university. Studying philosophy seemed like a surefire way to a life full of debauchery, deep conversations, sex and fun. How did he end up in HR?

They are down to the last corner. A beautiful walnut chest catches Ben’s eye. He opens it and on top lays a velvet jacket. The mustard color glows as gold, even in the weak light of the attic. The sleeves are lovingly folded to the back and the single button is closed. The shawl collar rolled elegantly over the chest. Ben takes it out the chest and holds it in front of him. There are some pressure marks in the velvet around the button and above the left pocket. Traces of repeated gestures.

His mother stands next to him. “Oh, Fred and that jacket,” she says, “He wore it all the time. That jacket has seen some stuff.” Ben follows her hands caressing the soft material with his eyes.

“What actually happened with uncle Fred?” he blurts out before he realizes it.

Christmas eve started alright. His parents seemed in a good mood and Fred was happy to see the whole family together. His niece Marianne put on some great records and they talked about new bands. Her face lit up when he told her he is friendly with some of the managers and that would take her see some of the bands soon.

The fourth drink his father had was to blame for the shift. He looked over the table and locked eyes with him. He knew what time it was. His father started asking him about his work and his social circle. Wasn’t he getting tired of his lifestyle?

Of course it ended in a fight. His father was yelling and pointing at him. His mother frowning at both of them, but mostly at him. His sister and her family couldn’t leave any quicker if they wanted to.

Back at home, Ben puts the golden jacket on one of the few wooden hangers he owns and hangs it on his desk chair. His mother raised her eyebrows when he asked if he could have it, but he knows her well enough to see that she was happy with it.

He lays on his bed and looks at the jacket. Something about it feels like an invitation. He remembers his mother eyes when she told him about Fred. How her eyes flickered through the room and her gestures seemed even less controlled than usual.

“They always considered him as too much, too grand. They all did, the whole family did,” his mother said in the attic. “My grandparents were proud of being humble. Of not pretending to be anything that we were not. Fred was not like that at all. He wanted to meet the eccentric and move in with them. He didn’t care about practicality and wished for the party never to end. He owned a camel caravan in Egypt at some point. You knew that? I think my aunt and uncle didn’t expect him to settle down with a wife, but they couldn’t stand the stories people told about Fred.”

And what did this life actually bring him? He is middle-aged, his day-job in the department store is the same everyday and his gallerist only represents him because they are friends for so long she wouldn’t dare to doubt his talent. With his taste for traveling, good food and better wine he barely is able to cover the basics every month.

But he has made some lovely mistakes. That summer in New York with Pierre? And he wouldn’t have known Eva if he was a responsible person. She would hate him.

Maybe he should consider what is offered. His parents can ensure a nice job and a nice house and nice family gatherings. The cost of it is being bored. All the time.

No. His clothes are too good to live that life.

His mother told him about that awkward last Christmas party. She knew something changed irreversibly. Her grandparents and her parents stiffened and never relaxed after that. She always had Fred as both a warning and promise for excitement in the back of her head. When making big decisions she felt Fred pulling her to something bigger and dangerous, but knew that would mean not being a part of a group and a place where she is comfortable.

Ben is getting ready for a party with friends from university. When he got out of the shower he automatically put on black trousers and a navy sweater. He checks the mirror for unnoticed nose hairs or food between his teeth.

Why is he even going? He hasn’t seen these people in ages and they surely haven’t changed since graduating. He is the only one with a steady job and a mortgage. He is too tired to pretend he has anything close to a fascinating life.

Out of the corner of his eyes he sees his phone lighting up. It’s a text from his mom.

“Wear the jacket. Make the mistakes.”