When We Part (on hold)

455 Days

"I don't like staying at my house," He sighed. "Especially not at night. Not all the bleach in the world could get the red out of the carpet."

"Understandable." I agreed. "But your mom probably can't stand it either. And leaving her alone in a house like that couldn't be of much help to her."

"She's going to have to get out of there," Frank said. "Vallendale is having GED testing in a almost a week. I'm just going to get my GED, and when I turn eighteen I'll get my own apartment. She'll have to sell the house if she doesn't want to live there alone. Maybe I could get her into a support group or something."

"Wouldn't she resent that?"

"You see," he said. "That's the thing about my mom. Things most people think would be stupid or worthless, such as support groups and motorized scooters, she benefits from."

"Odd," I noted. "Hey, I have to work today, you wanna come with?"

"Okay," he said. "Where do you work?"

"The cemetery," I admitted. "It's nice and quiet because the only other people are the owner of the cemetery, and of course the dead people."

"Sounds fun," he smiled, rolling his eyes. "That's so your kind of job too."

"What can I say?" I chuckled. "I'm a morbid loner."

"Indeed you are."

"So I have to be over there by noon," I continued. "So we should get ready."

"For what?" he asked, making some ramen. "Are we getting pretty for the stiffs?"

I laughed. God, sarcastic fuck.

"I thought you'd like to dressed in real clothes and not have your mouth smell worse than the stiffs."

"Oh," he said. "Ouch. That hurts."

"Yep," I said, drinking the last of a beer.

"Gerard," Frank started, "It's only eleven, you shouldn't really be drinking right-"

"I'll drink whenever the fuck I want," I snapped. The hostility in my own voice scared even me a little.

"Okay," he said, raising his hands in defeat. "Just take it easy."

"Sorry," I mumbled. "I'm going to go shower."

"Alright."

An awkward silence hung over the room. I left, trying to escape it.

++++++++++++++++++++++

"Are they always here?"

"Yeah," I smiled."These crazy fuckin' birds are always here, shitting on headstones and such."

"I think there's hidden metaphoric resonances behind their shittng upon headstones," he said, watching as they ran around the cemetery.

"There's probably metaphoric and or philosophical resonances in just about anything," I pointed out. "Like, when you were talking about the sun and the moon. People put meaning behind those kinds of things. Helps 'em sleep at night."

"It's a nice thought," he said, smiling. "And there's the one that says when you can't sleep at night, it's because someone else is dreaming of you. It makes me smile late at night when the pills don't kick in."

"I like that one," I told him. I went into the back shed, and grabbed and old broom. When I came back, I trust it at him.

"Today you get the fun part," I said as he took it. "You get to whack the birds away, while I must clean bird shit. Good plan."