We All Fall Down

Chapter 54

The day of my father's funeral is a blur. Ben didn't say much to me as we got dressed and scoured the pantry and refrigerator for something that could pass as breakfast. I turned at the sound of rustling plastic and found him unwrapping a basket of fruits and pastries on the table.

"Becky," we said in unison.

We ate through the contents in silence. The house already felt different. It looked exactly the same for the most part, but everything that tied memories to it, were not there. I didn't smell my mother's perfume mixed with nicotine. I didn't smell remnants of whatever my father had cooked and placed in carefully portioned Tupperware containers. There were pill bottles lined along the small bar area and a walker beside my father's recliner. A pair of bifocals perched atop a word search that was sitting on the TV tray on the other side. That's what my father boiled down to. He worked, he came home, he cooked, he sat. Day after day, year after year, because after my mother had her way with him, there was very little left of him to amount to anything else. 

I looked over to the hallway when Ben spoke, "They took him while you were out yesterday. Roger stayed up late to have him ready for today." I felt a pang of guilt at the rush of it all, the lack of honor and respect for my father. But he wasn't a man who wanted all kinds of attention and would likely have requested it be just as it was going. A slow, quiet slip into the afterlife. No muss, no fuss.

I nodded as my eyes landed on his closed door. "We should get going." I wiped my mouth on a paper napkin that was also provided by Becky in the basket. Ben didn't reply, rather just scooted his chair back and placed our dishes in the sink. Today would be my last day in this house, in this town. By next week, next month, it would house another family and hopefully hold far better memories than we'd given it over the years. 

"Wesley just pulled up. He offered to drive us over," Ben shrugged a nice-looking tailored jacket over his thin frame.

As we walked toward the front door, I paused and turned to face him, "I hope you know that I was never...that I didn't mean to be a bad brother," I tried, but Ben lifted a hand, waving away my words. 

"Not doing this now. Today is about Dad. We can hash it out after," Ben shook his head and swung the door open. Immediately, I noticed his shoulders relax significantly, a broad grin spread across his face as he opened his arms toward the waiting vehicle, toward Wesley.

"Your chariot awaits!" Wesley yelled in a British accent through the open window. I envied the comfort and warmth that flowed between them. In my time away, I had not made any attempt to be close to anyone, romantically nor platonically. I wanted to go to class, go to work, to prove...what? I still wasn't sure. But I did know that relationships made things complicated, and I didn't want complicated. Returning for just a day had reminded me of that. My mind went to Rose again. I couldn't wait to board my plane back to New York.

"Hey, John," Wesley craned his neck to me once I lowered myself into the backseat of his sedan. "Good to see you...sad this is the reason for your visit, but I just went up there and he really looks good. Roger did a great job on him," he smiled and dipped his chin.

"You went to the funeral home?" I asked.

"He works at the flower shop, did all the arrangements for free," Ben gave Wesley a longing look, one that is saved for lovers, and patted his knee as Wesley pulled out onto the road.

"Least I could do. Your dad was beyond kind to me this past year," Wesley gripped the wheel and I noticed his neck flush like Mickey's used to do.

"What did he do?" I asked, unsure if I was prying or not.

"My parents ahh...well they kicked me out when they found out about Ben and me. I had nowhere to go and your dad offered me to stay, no strings attached. It's how I was able to save up so much for this move."