MECHANISM

By Dan Jacklin

What would you do if you lost someone you love? Would you lock yourself away from the world? Or would you climb into a van with five friends and go on tour with them? Follow Alan as he travels with his best friend, Rick - and Rick's band mates, as Alan struggles with grief, violent concert goers, drug addled promoters, and visits with o

• Language: English
• Publisher: Teeth Spitter Press
• Release date: May 12, 2024
• ISBN: 9798218355715

Book preview

To You, my wife.

Don’t go anywhere. We made promises.

’Til the stars go dark.

☬☬☬☬☬

We were together for about six years before my balls dropped enough for me to propose. Three years of marriage later we went on a vacation to Myrtle Beach, South Carolina, on our spring break from teaching. We were sitting in traffic at the intersection of Bypass 17, colloquially known as The Bypass; a six lane highway with a wide, grass, drainage median between the north and south bound lanes, and 10th Avenue. It was stop and go, but the light had just turned green. A few stragglers ran through their red light before it was clear for us to cut through the intersection.

Everything went black.

I awoke with your head on my shoulder. I brushed your dark hair back off of your face, but I couldn't wake You. The emergency crews were working on getting us out of the car. They threw a white sheet over us to protect us from broken glass and sparks. One of them climbed under with us and was asking me questions, What's your name?

Alan.

Alan, do you know where you are?

Myrtle Beach.

Do you know what day it is?

The day my wife died.

The rescue crew put a neck brace on me, pulled me out of my side of the car, strapped me to a board, threw me in an ambulance, and sped away to Grand Strand Regional Medical Center while You were still being cut out of the wreckage. My evening was spent getting stitches, x-rays, tiny flashlights shone in my eyes, and poked and prodded by latex hands. They found no signs of internal damage or serious physical trauma, and I was released with a handful of Ibuprofen.

Then they brought me down to the morgue to look at your body. Seeing You there, cold, pale, and purple like a winter evening in the middle of spring and all I could do was sigh as another blue pajama and white coat wearing face tried to explain what happened. Someone else brought an avalanche of paperwork for burial arrangements that only seemed to grow with each of my answers. Later that night, back in our hotel room, I was on the phone calling family and friends in the trial of patience that is recounting how someone you love is dead over and over and over…

Your parents wanted to have You shipped home, to them, which is what I had already arranged, but was fucking expensive, so they agreed to help with the cost. I couldn’t reach my parents at first. The coast to coast time difference back to Seattle made it a bit difficult to reach most of our friends. Even with cell phones everybody was out living their lives, but in time most of them got back to me.

Oh, sweetie! I’m so sorry. What happened?!

Well, Mom…

That’s terrible! What do you need from us?!

Honestly, Mom, I don’t know…

Your father is trying to see if we can come up for the funeral.

It’s going to be in Mass, Mom. Her parents want her home with them.

Oh! Hon! Honey, it’s going to be in Massachusetts! She was yelling at my Dad.

…

Your father is shaking his head. Oh, sweetie. I don’t know if we’re going to be able to make it, then!

It’s okay, Mom. I understand.

No it’s not!

Mom, the circumstances are pretty extenuating.

Okay, well, we’re going to keep trying, but if you need anything call us, alright.

Sure thing, Mom. Thank you. Love to Dad, okay. Bye.

Love you, sweetie. Bye.

Once I felt I had gotten a hold of enough family and our nearest and dearest to get the phone tree going I turned to social media. Already a cold enough place with its inanimate intimacy and callous connectivity made colder by putting your death out on blast.

The airlines are a whole other bureaucratic nightmare. From changing destinations. To transporting a body. Proving a death in the family for discounts. To the reps credit, he was great; but the process…

I understand the company wants their’s and are going to make it difficult. I just want to get it done. Can you help with that?

Oh, yes. I will do everything I can.

Thank you, Chris. First I need to change destinations on my ticket, from Seattle to Boston. Direct if possible. I am also transporting a body, my wife, who was the other ticket.

Oh, nooooo! I'm sorry to hear that! My condolences. He sounded genuine, not that service worker placating, but genuinely upset about it; but who’s to say.

Thank you, Chris.

Stay on the line with me. This is going to take some time, but what you'll need to do is arrive with theeeeee… I could hear him pondering where to go with it. Your wife… at the cargo drop off slash pick up. There will be some paperwork to go through, but is usually pretty quick and painless. Bring your copies of that paperwork and your copies from the city and county. You will present these to the agent when you check in and all applicable discounts and arrangements will be finalized then and there. However, I do have to ask some questions and get some required information right now. You ready?

Shoot.

Another forty-five minute round of answering questions that I've already answered dozens of times before with dozens of different people. It makes you feel like you’re crazy. Like no one can believe it. Like they’re gaslighting you to keep you from saving money. The thought that there are so many shitty people out in the world scamming so many others that it just ruins so much for the rest of us. Making things all the more difficult. This kid is just doing his job, but I'm over explaining myself and I want to reach through my cell phone and choke him out through his headset. And none of it is personal, but I'm debating whether to just drive You back to your parents. Like a macabre buddy-road-trip flick with You in the front seat. In the end Chris came through. Even with all of the retroactive discounts coming when I prove that you’re dead and I'm traveling with You, it is still pretty fucking expensive.

The rental car was another issue, but more painless than the airline,

Who was at fault for the accident?

The other driver ran a red light and T-boned us.

And where is the vehicle, now?

I don’t know. The city took it after I was ambulanced away. Some impound lot or scrap yard. It… it didn’t make it. The paperwork is in the glove box. I told the officer that interviewed me, so it’s in the report. Look, my wife died in the accident and I’m trying to work on getting her home with me. We were on vacation here. Is there any way you all can deal with this internally? Do you need me running around a town I don’t know trying to work all of this out?

Well, you got the insurance and the other driver was at fault. We got everything we need from you, soooo… yeah. We’ll call you if we need anything else.

Thank you.

They provided me with another car for the remainder of the stay. I had some work to do now with the remaining time.

Part of the arrangements were to have You sent to a local funeral home for preparation. Embalming, really. I brought some of the clothes You had packed to dress you in for the time being. Just until we get You back to Massachusetts and the staff at the funeral home your parents picked will dress you in the outfit our friends send up there. Trying to buy the coffin, though…

That silver looking one with the brass fittings and handles, and the white interior.

Good eye, suh. A lovely line. In that slow Southern Aristocrat, Antebellum Proper, drawl. He was upper middle-aged, lower elderly. Sixty-ish, I guess, then. A decent sized belly, horse shoe pattern bald, and clean shaven face that was running a bit red, despite the central air. A beige suit with brown leather shoes, white button down, and grey tie. Very neutral. Whereas I’m in board shorts, flip-flops, and a t-shirt for the band Mammoth Grinder. My tattoos revealed to the world.

Does that come with Bluetooth/Handsfree standard? Sorry…

Digital AM/FM, only, ahm afraid. We all grieve in ah own ways, suh. He smiled. I liked that he still had a sense of humor.

Not even a tape deck?

Dead technology, ahm afraid, suh. I thought it was a solid joke and gave a small laugh. Morbid, but not too dark. Still respectful. Self-aware.

I’ll take it.

Very good, suh.

You’re a helluva salesman, Paul.

Thank ya, Alan. Let’s finish this in the office, shall we.

After you.

Why, thank ya, suh.

The arrangements now made, it became a waiting game. Tomorrow we fly up to your parents. The day after that we bury You. The next day, I fly home. It’s been a long twenty-four hours.

The next morning I took no chances; I got to the airport four hours early, around seven a.m., to make sure there wouldn’t be any problems. I also had no idea how long any of this would take. I called the funeral home to let them know I was headed there and they could send You over.

The security gate directed me to a hangar at the end of the airfield, separate from the terminal. The hearse arrived not too long after. Paul and I were met by a short and muscular fellow in grey overalls with reflective tape around the ankles, wrists, waist, and back. A badge clipped to his left breast pocket told me his name was Steve. We went over the paper work and everything seemed to be in order. I just needed to sign a few things.

Back to the rental lot to drop off the car. Back to the counter to drop off the keys and answer a few questions about the accident, Sign here, here, and here… Thank you! Have a blessed day! She smiled as I walked away.

The ticket counter agent flipped through all of the paperwork. Some of the people in line behind me got annoyed at how long it was taking so I spoke a little louder and let our conversation be heard, so that they would understand WHY it was taking so long for me to check in, Our condolences.

Sorry for your loss.

Bless your hearts.

Sitting at the gate I started to feel how tired I must look. I hadn’t slept well the last couple of nights. It was starting to catch up to me a bit, physically. I waited until the last moment to board, refusing to move just to stand in line. So I waited.

When I got to my seat I threw my phone on airplane mode, put in my headphones, put on some Neurosis, and closed my eyes. Through Silver And Blood rang in my ears and a couple of hours later we landed at Logan.

Your sister Kathryn picked me up at the curb with our luggage, Hey, Alan. She greeted me as she got out of the car, bracing from the spring chill. Different from the heat and humidity of the South. She helped me load the suit cases into the back of her Subaru before navigating our way to their cargo pick up. We had to wait for the hearse from the new funeral parlor to come pick You up. Apparently this isn’t as rare as one would think. Primarily it’s soldiers bodies being picked up and dropped off, however…

With the paperwork and signatures all in order, the hearse left to go prepare You for tomorrow. Kathy and I spent the drive back to East Hampton fairly quiet. I thanked her for the ride. She thanked me for handling a bulk of the arrangements. She'd been taking care of most the arrangements here. your father took care of what he could, but mostly took care of your mother, apparently. From what I gathered.

It’s… Started Kathy, Dad’s been busy. I mean, he paid fah most of everything aftah I arranged everything, but… She was tense and anxious. The Boston accent really shining through.

How’s your mom?

Mahm? Fack! I’ve hahdly seen ah spoken to heh. Anytime I call, Dad answehs. Anytime I’ve gawn oveh she’s runnin’ an erran’. For what? Fack if I know! She waves her hands up off the wheel and I really want self driving cars to become more of a reality.

Where’s Barry? (Her husband).

I left him at theah house to watch ovah ‘em, but he’s praw’ly got ‘em ahl fehckin’ hammehd.

Sure enough, when we got to your parents’ place, Barry was pretty toasted for three in the afternoon. Your parents were fine. Except for having to babysit Barry, now.

Hey, Alan. How are ya, son.

I’m alright, Harold. You?

Eh. Just tryin’ to take care of everythin’. Old school repression. Classic Harold. Baby Boomer. New Englander. The Gruber Brothers had an easier time with their respective heists than I would have getting him to open up.

Need help with anything?

Nah! Why don’t ya go in the livin’ room and say hi to Mary. She’s waitin’ for ya. I make my way from the kitchen, where the front door is, into the living room in the back of the house. Your mom was sitting on the couch watching a baseball game. The Red Sox were losing to the Yankees in a spring training, pre-season game. She turned to me, craned her neck up, and puckered her lips. I leaned down and we kissed each others cheeks, Hi, sweetie. Ya doin’ okay?

Hangin’ in there. You?

She took my left hand and held it in both of hers, Awm glad ya heeah. She let go of my hand and turned back to her game. Harold came back in and stood next to me with a turkey sandwich on a small plate, Ya muss be hung’ry. He said as he handed it to me. I wasn’t, but I also realized that I hadn’t eaten anything all day. I had two cups of coffee as I checked out of the hotel and another on the flight. So I took the sandwich and started eating as I grabbed a seat on the second sofa across from where your parents were sitting, right next to Barry, who was half passed out. Nursing a bottle of beer between his hands in his lap.

Giancarlo Stanton rockets a home run over the left field wall making it nine to two in the bottom of the fifth inning. Nothing that is happening in this house is making this day any easier…

I finish my sandwich and excuse myself to grab my bags that I left in the back of Kathryn’s car. As I was closing up the hatchback your brother Gerrard and his wife Lillian pulled up to the curb; so I waited for them to walk up the driveway, to the front door. I offered a hand to Gerrard to shake. He pulled a hand out of his beige overcoat that made him look like a private detective, and shook my hand, Alan.

Gerrard. Good to see you. Lillian.

I leaned in and gave her a quick one armed hug as I balanced a suitcase with the other.

Hi, Alan. How are you?

Tired. Really tired.

Yeah? Let’s get you inside, then. Fix you up a space to take a nap.

We’ll see.

We all go inside. Gerrard leaving me with my baggage, without offering to help. This is normal for Gerrard, though. He and I never saw eye to eye, not just because he’s six inches taller than me, either. For whatever reason, despite my efforts, we’ve never connected. That’s an understatement. For whatever reason, he doesn’t like me. My tattoos, my music, my friends, my fucking parents. Dude wants nothing to do with me.

We spent the evening eating the food all of the neighbors brought over. Mostly Debbie and Jake that live next door. They’ve been living there for almost as long your parents and are two of their best friends. They made the turkey sandwiches that were for lunch earlier. One of which Harold gave me. Taking a cue from the Jewish community, they organized a pot luck. Some neighbors from farther up the street brought a home baked lasagna over for dinner. It was delicious.

Physically, emotionally, and psychologically drained, I could not fall asleep. So I tried to eat myself into a food coma. I fell asleep on the couch later that night watching an episode of Bones. Before I knew it Kathy was waking me up to get ready. Our friends Rick and Jess overnighted your clothes here the morning after I told them what happened and they decided to throw one of my suits in as well. I brought some nice clothes with me on the vacation, but it was more for a nice dinner or something, nothing like this.

The service was just outside of town. It was small and private, most of our friends were not able to make it on such short notice. It was a cool and clear spring day with green returning.

You wore a long sleeve, forest green dress and black high heels, a necklace with heart pendant, and the silver ring You bought at one of those mall kiosks. You looked like you did the night we went out to celebrate getting our Masters. I kept the wedding and engagement rings as well as some of the heirloom jewelry that I specifically asked not to be used. Rick and Jess (though I suspect more Jess) bought a forest green neck tie for me to wear.

Looking back I remember feeling numb the whole time. Everyone offering condolences and my mumbled automated response of, Thank you. Like a vending machine, drop in an I'm sorry for your loss. Receive a Thank you. I didn't give a eulogy or speak a goodbye. I hovered over your casket for a while. Just looking at You. Then I just watched everything stoically. Shut down. My mind was there but I stepped outside myself, observing from the center. Like second base with a consciousness. An integral part of the events, but I had no control over them, just watching everything unfold.

There was one guy, I'd never seen him before. He walked in, greeted your family, avoided me, and went straight to You. He lingered there almost as long as I did. I could see him flexing his grip on the edge of the casket as he gently rocked. He stepped back, turned, and left while wiping some tears from his eyes. I could only assume him to be some ex from high school. Keep steppin'. Fuck his regret. He should have moved on over a decade ago.

That night we all gathered in your parents house. We drank to You, May she get to heaven at least an hour before the devil knows she's dead. The old Irish toast, but I had this image in my head of You standing before Kharon, pouting, with your pockets turned out. Why would I think that?

Gerrard tried to pick an argument with me, feeling he finally had a reason to come at a me. He couldn't accept that it just happened. That You were gone. He kept asking me to recite details of the accident and challenged motives and intentions, Why were you in the intersection?

It was stop and go traffic.

So you stop in the middle of the intersection?!

I didn’t. He ran the light.

So why did you get hit?

The other driver was on his phone, trying to make the light.

How can you be so calm about all this?! Didn't you love her?!

With that I set my drink down, hugged your mother and sister, shook hands with your father, and left with their apologies, retiring to your old room; more of a guest room since You moved away as is typically the case. Particularly so, now, especially as thats how I felt, but there I was regardless. I sat there scanning the room, taking in all the idiosyncratic novelties You left behind. Small trinkets from a when before Us… Me; seemingly both You and foreign all at once when there was a soft knock on the door,

Come in. (It was your sister.)

Is it okay?

Sure.

She glided across the room and sat next to me on the bed. Gerrahd didn't…

I know.

He and Lillian went home. Everybody else is goin’ to bed. Are you okay?

Yeah, I'm fine. How are you?

I'm a wreck, look. She held out her left hand to show it shaking. I've stahted smokin’ again. Barry hates it, but it's the only thing that helps the nehves. Will ya come have a smoke with me?

Sure. Where is Barry, anyway?

Passed out drunk in ah bed.

We went downstairs and out onto the back patio, really a layer of brick set into the ground with mortar, where she had a pack of cigarettes and a lighter waiting on the round patio table from earlier in the day. It’s umbrella fluffed up for shade. The chairs were haphazardly scattered around the table from when we left them earlier. She pulled one out of the pack, tapped the tip on her wrist a few times, put it to her lips, a lighter to the tip, and she took a long, slow, first drag. Then a long slow exhale of smoke, Much better. She said with a sigh. It's chilly out heah. She stood with her left forearm crossing her stomach to hold her right side while her right arm was bent at the elbow to keep the cigarette near her mouth.

Yeah, a little bit.

Dad would say it’s good football weathah.

How's Barry doing?

They were never really all that close. She said with a shrug.

That's true.

Sorry about Jack. I don't know how he found out.

Who's Jack?

That guy that came in and avoided you. Stormed out.

Yeah, I have no idea who that dude is.

Her first real boyfriend. He was always pissed about losing her and jealous of everyone she dated after him. She explained with a drag and a flick of ash.

'Fuckin' ever. He needs to get over himself. Shit was nearly fifteen years ago. Move on already.

What about you? When you get home?

Box up her stuff for donation or sell it off. I was researching apartments in Moscow for our next vacation in the summer. I was going to surprise her. I think I might go, anyway.

(There was a pause…)

So, how about them Dodgers…? (I asked jokingly.)

I don't know. I don't fawllow hawckey. She replied. It was one of your favorite tension breakers. Kathryn gave a snort of a chuckle as she began to cry a little.

I miss her so much. She sobbed.

So do I.

Why didn't you give a eulogy, then? Actually, you hahdly even spoke and when ya did it was a joke and now you're tahkin’ about goin’ to fahckin’ Russia? She said in frustration.

Humor is my defense mechanism, okay, and I'm sorry if my idea of life and death differ from yours. It’s all part of a cycle.

That's a bit callous, don't ya think. She sniffled at some snot and tears.

I can either wallow in grief and despair and self-pity or I can accept that I woke up with your sister's head on my shoulder as if she fell asleep watching T.V. and covered in blood with her spinal cord severed. It isn't exactly something I care to keep reliving especially after having to explain it two dozen times over the god-damned phone to people already. So forgive me if I don't feel like talking about my dead wife.

She stepped toward me and wrapped her arms around my neck and shoulders in a hug. I could feel the warmth of the cherry at the end of the cigarette near my right cheek and she whispered an apology in my ear, I'm sahry. You weh ahlways heh rawk. The one cool head in crisis keepin’ heh grounded and tahkin’ heh down. My arms wrapped around her waist, feeling the soft cashmere of the black sweater she was wearing. I looked up at the clouds overhead that glowed orange from the sodium street lamps of the city as they lackadaisically drifted across the night sky. They still seemed to move with more enthusiasm than anyone in this house. Without meaning to say it out loud I said, From time to time our hearts burn a little less bright.

But we must find a way to keep stoking the flames. She replied and I didn't let go. Not in any sense of the phrase.

The next morning, showered, shaved, and dressed, I went downstairs to find Barry sitting at the kitchen table with a Bloody Mary,

Nursing some hair of the dog, Barry? No celery?

All out. And keep it down, please. He said massaging his temples with his right thumb and middle finger.

Sorry.

Just then your mother walked in wearing her pajamas, robe, and slippers. She peeked into the fridge, closed the door, and looked around the kitchen, I'm not fahckin’ cookin’ breakfast. She sighed with exacerbation. Let's go to Cahl's. Carl’s, the greasy spoon diner on the edge of downtown that You liked so much. So the five of us pile into your dad’s car and thirty minutes later we arrive at Carl's where we are joined by Gerrard and Lillian, at which point he apologized for the night before, About yesterday, that was too far… To try and insinuate… I mean, just because you and I never really connected doesn’t… Well, anyway, I’m sorry..

No need, Ger. It’s hard for all of us.

Breakfast was pleasant and fairly light hearted; your parents and siblings retelling stories of your youth and me telling stories that they weren’t present for. Until the end when the conversations and stories seemed to pitter out. We sat there in silence for a moment and I found myself staring at my hands in my lap. Then the server checked in, So what now, everybody? The universe can be a dick sometimes. Existential dilemmas aside, though, I needed to start packing for my flight home. So we split the check along coupled lines with myself on my own. A seventh wheel.

We all went back to your parent’s place and somberly sat around the living room. Barry helped himself to another drink out of your father’s liquor cabinet, Kathy huffed at him, went outside, and puffed on another cigarette. After a few minutes I went back up to your room, packed up my things, and sat on your bed looking over all of your old life. The books and notebooks, posters, and fliers. All of the little things You didn’t feel were important enough to take with You as You left and got older, but just enough to keep the room your’s for when You would come home.

In the handful of times I had been here I never noticed half of this stuff. Usually because we used it just for sleeping. Only a few times did we pretend to be teenagers, like we were being sneaky; but we met too late for us to really be doing that and was all just a joke. None of these items seemed to matter then. These peaks into your youth, a tangible and tactile history of a life now gone.

Alan? Came your Mom’s voice from downstairs. Are ya all packed, dee-ah? We should pro’ly get goin’ and beat theh traffic.

Be down in just a second!

I called back, gathered my bag, and went downstairs to say goodbye to everyone. Gerrard hugged me and apologized again while Lillian just gave the briefest of hugs and goodbyes. Barry simply shook my hand with a, Take care. His face starting to get flush.

You too, Bare.

Kathy began to cry as she hugged me, Stay in touch. She said through her tears and sniffs. I will, I said with a tinge of ambiguity in my gut. Your Mom hugged me, too, and began to sob. She didn't say anything. No goodbye. No I love you. She began to weep a little. Then choked it all back, but refused to let go. Kathy and Gerrard had to pry her off of me. It was difficult to walk away from, but your Dad was already in the car waiting while your Mom opted to stay behind.

I threw my bags in the trunk and got in. He was listening to The Who’s Tommy. We didn’t say much on our Logan’s Run. Not even when Blue Oyster Cult’s (Don’t Fear) The Reaper came on. I think he may have used the controls on the steering wheel to turn it up and I got a little concerned as to whether I was going to make my flight or not.

When we arrived at the airport we sat there for a moment while Hey, Jude! played out. When it finished I got out without saying anything. He seemed to want the silence. Stoic in thought. He sat at the wheel for a second before getting out to say goodbye. He came around to the trunk where I was getting my bags and walked me to the curb. We shook hands and he pulled me in for a hug, Safe travels, Alan. He didn’t let go of my hand as we separated.

Thanks, Harold. Take care of your family. Especially Kathy. She really needs somebody and Barry doesn’t seem to be much help right now.

When has he ever? He guffawed, choking back his tears, and still shaking my hand.

Point. And all the more reason.

Hey, and Alan. Thank you. For everything. The planning and transportation… Just for taking care of things… Of Her. Still shaking.

I did everything I could, but…

You did great, son. If you need anything, just call us, okay.

Thanks, Harold. He pulled me in and hugged me again before getting back in his car. I could hear Cream's White Room as he opened and closed the door.

Waiting to check in, Any baggage to check? Waiting in security, Traveling with anyone, today? Waiting to board, Now boarding Platinum travelers, active Armed Service Personnel, and families with small children. Hurry up and wait. Hurry up and wait. Tray tables and seat belts. Airplane Mode. High On Fire's Blessed Black Wings. Forty thousand feet at five hundred and forty-eight miles per hour. This is time traveling.

☬☬☬☬☬

Back across three time zones, for about five and half hours. I can’t travel far enough back. It only flows forward. Burroughs on the brain, Back, back, back! Clickety-clickety-clack! Now I’m standing on the Arrivals curb at Sea-Tac and my old friend Rick picks me up using his band's van; an old, grey, Ford Econoline. Everything but the front seats had been ripped out and replaced with a home made loft in the back made out of plywood and two by fours, and covered in that egg crate foam matting. It had no windows, so from the outside it would resemble the kind of van you would warn your kids about. He pulled up to the curb, hopped out, and jogged around the front of the van with his long hair swaying. The world reflecting in his aviators, a huge grin showing through his grizzly beard, he gave me a hug; Welcome home! Howya holdin' up, champ?

As well as expected I suppose.

Ah-right. Well, let's get ya home, then. He said with a clap on my shoulders. I opened the cargo side doors, threw my bags under the loft in back, and climbed into the front passenger seat. Reversal Of Man’s Revolution Summer was playing on his tape deck.

How was the service? He asked as we rumbled off and made our way to the interstate.

Small. Quiet. Mostly just her family.

How they doin'?

…

That bad, huh?

Her Mom and Dad wrestled quietly with it all in front of everybody. Visibly shaken and all, but maintaining. Kathy's struggling and could really use Barry, but he's… Barry. And Gerrard's a wreck. Lillian really has her hands full with him. I mean, he’s pissed. And rightfully so, but he’s lashing out. He tried to lay into me at Harold and Mary’s house. Trying to blame me for everything.

Fuck… He sighed. What did you do?

Said good night to everybody and went upstairs to her room. I had no interest in being goaded into a fight or even trying to play nice. I figured I’d just walk away, ya know. There’s no discussion in situations like that.

Yeah, emotions are too high to really be rational, I guess. Ya kinda feel condescended to and feel it’s irrational for someone tuh not be feeling suh-in.

And it’s not that I wasn’t or that I don’t…

Ya internalize, man. Ya live in your head. I know.

Yeah…

Which reminds me, there's suh-in I wanted talk tuh ya 'bout.

What's that?

We're goin' on tour this summer and we want ya tuh come along.

I don't know, man, shit's kind of…

We know, but it's not 'til mid-June so ya have time tuh think about it, but we think it'd be good for ya. We really want ya to come along. He pleaded.

I don't think you have enough space for all of us.

I said looking into the loft in back.

We sprung for a trailer.

Okay. I’ll think about it.

I said throwing my hands up in resignation.

That's all we're sayin'. Take all the time ya need, too. We know your shits all over and up in the air.

The thing about Rick is that when he uses the word we in these kinds of conversations he really means I. You would think for having been the front man of several bands his heart would be on his sleeve, and you would be right, but only in-so-far as his actions. He expresses himself better verbally in song. This would be a case-in-point. The odd dichotomy of a willingness to tell anyone and everyone about himself, but only en masse. A willingness to connect on a large scale, but more reluctant on a personal one. I've known him for almost twenty years and he still feels the need to encode himself with me.

We didn’t talk much on the rest of the drive. The cassette finished the Reversal Of Man side, there was the sound of mechanical clicks as the stereo switched sides, and moved on to the Struggle 7. Somewhere in the middle of Envy" we crested a hill on I-5 North and the whole of Seattle rose up before us. A sight that I never get tired of. The cranes of The Port of Seattle, Safeco and Century Link fields in the foreground, and all the skyscrapers reaching upward. Columbia Tower (THE DARK TOWER, as it’s all black), rising above them all.

When we arrived at my house Rick's girlfriend, Jess, was out on the front stoop, waiting to greet us, Welcome home, Alan. She said somberly, with a hug before leading me inside where I found snacks out on the dining table. The rest of Rick's band, Dave (drums), James (guitar), Ben (bass), and Josh (roadie; Rick plays guitar and lead vocals), were on my back patio with their respective significant others. Josh with Britt, Ben with Gale, and Dave and James were on in what is typically an on-again-off-again relationship. The grill was also on.

What's going on here?

Everything happened so fast… Jess started.

We're here for ya, Alan. That's all. Rick finished with a shrug.

Thank you, I said as I hugged them again.

I love our friends. I went out back and said hello to everyone and as the day gave way to night more friends and neighbors showed up to pay their respects. It turns out that Rick managed to get in touch with and spoke to Principal Orion and told him about what they were planning, so some of our fellow teachers turned out, as well as some of our students and their parents. Friends from going to shows. It became more of a party than anything. One would have expected it to resemble Sitting Shivah, but it really was more of a party. Movies played inside, music outside, drinks, food, stories. The other edge of all of this is that You were so good at parties. You loved playing hostess.

Principal Orion caught up with me early on, Alan, listen, I’m sorry for your loss, truly. She was an amazing woman.

Thanks, Carl. I appreciate it.

And I’m willing to grant you a leave of absence if you would like. If you need more time. I can’t even begin to…

That won’t be necessary, but thank you. I think burying myself in some work would be good for me.

Okay. Hey, have you seen Sarah at all?

Last I saw her she was over in the kitchen.

Thanks. And let me know if you change your mind on that. What ever you need.

Will do, Carl. Thank you.

He’s a good man, though he has a stern and authoritative look. Just over six feet, horseshoe pattern baldness, and a seemingly perpetually furrowed brow. He has an air of I’m watching you, but is really looking out for you. One of the best bosses I’ve ever had, actually.

Some of our friends didn’t know how You passed and would ask me about it, setting myself, again, into retelling the events. Thankfully others would step in and bail me out, seeing how tired I was of telling it, and spread the word to save me from it. I was more uncomfortable with how easy it was already becoming to talk about. Your presence is so ingrained in me that, it’s weird, I’m looking around the room for You knowing that You’re not there while talking to friends about how You died…

I decided to say something -

Excuse me everybody. Thank you for coming out tonight. Especially on a week night. And thank you, Rick and Jess for organizing this. It really means a lot to me. All of you, thank you so much. It’s good to know that I have all of your support… Um… Please encourage me to come out to have a drink, or to a show, or even just pop in, or whatever. I have a tendency to get lethargic. So, please, at the very least, just help keep me moving… Thank you.

Afterwards the Guys and their Ladies stayed and helped clean the house before we drifted out to the fire pit in our back yard. Josh had been tending it most of the night. We all gathered ‘round with drinks in hand. I think they were expecting me to say something more, but I didn’t. We all just stared into the flame. After a few minutes I held out my glass and they did the same. I still didn’t say anything. We touched glasses and plastic cups, and finished our drinks.

Finally, the night was over and to be honest I was happy to see them go. I love our friends, but it was hard to see them all cozied up to each other all night. So by that time it was late and I was exhausted, but I found myself unable to go to sleep. My mind wouldn't stop remembering You. The warmth of You beside me. The feel of You in the nook of my shoulder. I found myself to be the lonely king of a queen sized wasteland. I had laid there for about an hour or so before I finally got back up and moved to the living room to watch television. Die Hard was on. Yippie - Kai - Yay, mother fucker!

That night, or morning rather, when I finally did fall asleep, I had a dream that we were standing in the middle of the intersection where We had the accident. We were surrounded by giant origami cars, it was raining glass, and that everybody kept asking each other, Glass? Who gives a shit about glass? You had no control over your neck muscles, so your head just kept lolling and rolling around over your shoulders, back, and chest. It made it really difficult to have a conversation with You. We were trying to figure out where to eat, but I got frustrated with You, so You tried to fight me using the Drunken Boxing style of Kung-Fu with Woo-Ping Yuen working your stunt wires like a giant marionette. I couldn’t really do much with it being a dream and all. All of my movement was in slow motion and Mr. Ping isn’t much of a puppeteer, so in the end we all just sat down and played Exquisite Corpse.

The next day I began booking my trip to Moscow. A bureaucratic mess that’s only real expedience is the ability to do it online, which suited my listlessness. Such fucking bullshit, though. I almost gave up a few times, but in the end I got everything booked and filed the proper forms for my Russian visa to clear. Now it was just a waiting game…

I had a few days left in my vacation and no way to fill them except to sit around in bored contemplation of how to spend my time doing anything other than wallowing in mourning and self-pity. The hole was too fresh to do anything about it. The amount of time We spent together and the amount of shared experience led to thoughts and feelings of You no matter where I