The Beard Part 5

"David," I heard from behind me.

I turned to see my sister, Ca.s.sie, standing next to Action. Action kept smelling his fingers.

"That was a great funeral," he said somberly. "Really top notch."

"Do you mind if I have a few words alone with my sister?"

"She's your..." he began. "I'll go ahead and apologize for my completely inappropriate behavior then." Then he walked away. His truck was parked only a couple of graves away. It seemed to be parked right on top of other graves. Since there were no tombstones there weren't any real obstructions to prevent people from doing this, I guess, although his was the only vehicle in sight. He entered the truck and revved the engine. "You guys need a lift back home!" he shouted.

"No!" I shouted back. "Just p.i.s.s off!"

He put the truck in gear and sped away, kicking up some gra.s.s and dirt as he did so.

"That was rude," Ca.s.sie said.

"You don't know him. He'll want to take advantage of you if he does you any sort of favor."

"Yeah. He felt me up the entire time. I kind of liked it though."

Ca.s.sie held a stylish green and yellow umbrella. She was a model, working in LA, and I hadn't seen her for many years. She wore a very tight t-shirt that said *b.i.t.c.h' under a tailored tweed overcoat.

"You lost your shoes."

"I couldn't find them."

"You're late."

"Yeah. n.o.body woke me up."

"So you moved back home, huh?"

"Yeah. How did you know? Have you talked to Dad?"

"No. Mom mentioned something about it a while ago."

"So who told you about Mom?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, if you didn't talk to Dad, then who told you that Mom was dead?"

"No one had to tell me. I knew she was dead. I knew exactly when she died. I thought we all did. It was... what do you call it?"

"Predestined."

"That's right. You always were the smart one."

"Then why didn't I know she was going to die?"

"I don't know. You were probably doing other things. Besides, you always knew I was their favorite."

"I guess I did. But I was Grandpa's favorite."

"And look what happened to him. I think they went with the safer bet."

"But now Mom's dead. Maybe Dad'll change his mind."

"Aren't we a little old for these games, David?"

"You're never too old to be the favorite."

"Oh G.o.d, like he would choose you over me. I'm beautiful, successful. You're a failure. And that beard looks ridiculous. You look like a little kid playing dress up."

"Isn't that what you do, though? Play dress up?"

"And get paid for it. What do you get paid for? You get paid for growing that stupid thing? What are you now, anyway? A writer? Oh wait, no, that was last year, wasn't it? Maybe, oh, I know, maybe you're an artist now?"

"I'm an out of work philosopher."

"That sounds gainful."

"Why do you always have to be like this?"

"Because I'm better than you."

"And you're adopted."

Ca.s.sie's jaw dropped. "How did you find out? Did you rifle through their papers?"

"I just added it all up. How could two people sp.a.w.n one person like you and one person like me? It doesn't make any sense."

"Well, I'm glad you're aware of that."

"Again, however, it seems like something they might have mentioned to me."

"Look, you can take all that up with Dad."

"Have you seen him?"

"No. I already told you that."

"No you didn't."

"Yes I did."

"Are you coming back to the house?"

"No. I've got a plane to catch."

"Are you upset?"

"Why should I be upset? It's just death. It happens all the time and, eventually, to everyone."

"But it's our mom."

"Your mom. My adoptive mom. I've moved out. I would have only seen her like a few more days even if she'd lived to be a hundred and six."

"Jesus. How can you be so cold?"

"Practical, David. Not cold. Just practical. If you want to keep entertaining your ridiculous thoughts and sensitivity and all that s.h.i.t then you can go ahead and live with Dad for the rest of his life and I'll even let you have the inheritance when he dies just to see how fast you can squander that away and then when you come crawling to me because you're poor and broke and don't have a friend in the world I'll ask you why you came to me and I want you to say this: *Because it was the practical thing to do.' And, don't worry, I'll take you in. You can clean my pool or wash my cars or something. But you'll have to shave the beard. If there's one thing I draw the line at it's the help looking like the homeless."

I wanted to push her into the grave. Why couldn't it have been her instead of Mom? I focused on a small blemish on her chin and hoped it would blossom and grow into something covering her entire nasty face. Her entire nasty face that was also beautiful and structurally perfect.

At that point, a helicopter landed in the cemetery and she said, "I have to go. See ya, David."

"I thought you were catching a plane?"

"Yeah, that's the helicopter that's going to take me to the plane. Want me to have it drop you off at the house?"

"No thanks," I said.

She turned to leave, folding her umbrella before climbing into the helicopter.

Twelve.

I stood under the blinking neon lights of the cemetery entrance. Another funeral party was descending on the cemetery. They had to keep it rolling. I stepped out of the way to let them pa.s.s. I didn't really want to go home but figured I had to. After all, without any shoes, no place would let me in. Apparently, barefootedness is something completely despicable in our society. Eventually, we'll all be wearing biohazard jumpsuits and rubber gloves.

On the other side of the road, sinister and idling, sat the car that had carried the mooners/exhibitionists from earlier. Remembering my thought about the a.n.a.l rape, I contemplated running, but there was only one person in the car. The one who had brandished his genitals at me. He opened the door and approached me. I covered my eyes.

"No, I'll keep my clothes on," he said.

I uncovered my eyes. I thought maybe he was just here for the funeral and had parked down here on the street because he was embarra.s.sed about his car or something. It was primer black and missing the lid to the trunk.

He put a comforting hand on my arm. "I just wanted to say I'm sorry," he said.

"Sorry?" I asked.

"Yeah, for mooning you and flashing you. I realized, after we drove away, how uncomfortable that must have made you feel. No one wants to see that. I mean, if I had known you were on your way to a funeral we never would have done that. In fact, we shouldn't have done it anyway. I a.s.sure you, it will never happen again. To anyone. That was our first time. I don't want you to think we just drive around doing that to everyone. I mean, I wouldn't want you to think we were doing it to you just because of who you are but... well, you get the idea. Anyway, like I said, we're all real sorry. Keith and Dorian, those were the others in the car with me, they went to the community college to enroll in cla.s.ses. We realized, after making such a.s.ses of ourselves, that's not who we really are. We're better than that. They've decided to seek higher education and me, because my family is very wealthy, I've decided to throw myself into philanthropy and acts of good citizenship."

I didn't know what to say.

"Well," I stammered. "That's great, I guess." I was still kind of waiting for the joke in all of this.

"So, who died?"

"My mom."

"I'm so sorry to hear that. If there's anything I can do for you, just let me know. You want my shoes?" He started taking his shoes off. I stopped him.

"No. I don't want your shoes. Thanks for the offer. I just... I just couldn't wear another person's shoes. I'm sorry."

"Well, maybe I can give you a ride home then. You live in that farmhouse on Paradox Road, right?"

"Yeah, how did you know?"

"Well, we saw you walking earlier, for one thing. We're also really good friends with a guy who lives out there. Action? You know him?"

"Yeah. We've met."

"Anyway, he's a horrible person. We're thinking about trying to run him out of town. I mean, for a while, we thought he was pretty cool but after a while... he's just so nihilistic, you know?"

"Actually, he's a solipsist."

"Is that worse?"

"I don't know."

"So, what do you say? Can I give you a ride?"

"Sure. That'd be great. Thanks."

The rain stopped about halfway back home. We reached the end of the lane and I saw Mom's El Camino parked up by the house. It made me very sad. I remembered her piling the sticks up in the back of it, proud of her new energy efficient car. That, I realized, was the first time I had seen her in four years and might as well have been the last time. I had gone to my room and focused on growing a beard and napping. If I had known she was going to die like just about everyone seemed to know then I would have tried to spend a little more time with her. It made me mad at Ca.s.sie. If Ca.s.sie knew she was going to die then why didn't she try to come home and spend some time with her? If Ca.s.sie had come back, I would have known something was wrong.

We reached the house and the boy stopped the car. "My name's Chair, by the way," he said.

"I'm David Glum," I said, shaking his hand. "Thanks a lot for the ride."

"One of the other guys in the car is going to school for grief therapy so, if you need anything in the way of counseling, I'm sure he would cut you a pretty good deal."

"I think I'll be okay."

"Really? Because, you know, sometimes you think you're all okay and then, bam, one day, just out of the blue it hits you."

"Well, if that happens, I'll go pick a fight with somebody."

"Being a man of the people I can't really condone that," Chair said. "But, just between you and me, if it makes you feel better and n.o.body gets hurt too bad I think you should go ahead and do it."

"I'm glad I have your approval. It means a lot coming from such a conscientious person such as yourself. Take care."

"Later," he said, speeding away into the gray day.

I turned toward the house and wondered if Dad was going to be there. If so, I had a few questions for him. Missing your mother's funeral is bad. Missing your wife's funeral is reprehensible.