Page 66 of Just Friends
“Ever wonder what that’s like?”
“Nope.” Weasel had been on both sides of the law; he’d always seen the underbelly of society. He’d gladly take on the seedier part of life to keep her from worrying.
“I assume you’re taking off a few days,” Nick interrupted his thoughts.
“Yeah, I called the chief and dispatch last night on the road to Rebecca’s.”
“Still with her?”
“Gone out to get breakfast.”
“Anything I can do for you?”
“Let’s see what the M.E. says.”
Weasel bought a box of doughnuts, a cup of black coffee, and one of those overly sweetened lattes that she liked. By the time he’d returned to her building, he had resolved to invite her out to stay with him. When he entered, the couch and kitchen were clear. Maybe she went back to sleep? He stepped into the bedroom; the bed was unoccupied, the bathroom also empty. Then sniffing came from the closet. Rebecca sat on the floor next to an open box with a mound of wadded men’s clothing in her lap.
“Hey babe, what are you doing?”
Rebecca didn’t look up. “He’ll need something to be buried in,” she breathed. “I kept some clothes for when he got better, but I don’t know what happened to his good suit.” She leaned into the corrugated cardboard box. “Surely, I kept it…he needs his suit.” Rebecca pulled two folded polo shirts out of the box, tossing them behind her. The tears streaking her face almost did him in.
“Don’t worry,” he replied. “We’ll get that taken care of, darlin’.” He scooped the clothing out of her lap, dumping it into the box. “You probably wouldn’t have packed a good suit in a box anyway.” Weasel hooked a hand under her arm, helping her to stand. “I brought you one of those lattes you like and doughnuts.” Weasel directed her over to the sofa. Her delicate features tight with grief, relaxed a little with a sip of the coffee. Closing her eyes, she sighed, smelling the caramel coffee in the cup.
At sixteen, he’d lost his dad, but the grief that most people exhibit at the death of a loved one didn’t happen for him until Logan overdosed. His dad’s death was a relief. For a while, he’d felt guilty that he was glad the old man died, but he had long since decided that grief manifested for those who deserved mourning. He’d come home to find his dad face down on the couch; the lack of snoring made him look twice, and he discovered the pool of vomit. Then watching the old man’s back for signs of breathing and finding none.
He took his bike into town and found Dalton at the garage. Since a phone was never in the budget, the money paid rent, utilities, and food in that order. Everything else was a luxury. Even though Dalton had married and had his place, he still kept his brothers clothed and fed. After his dad died, he’d moved out of the trailer and into the little house with Dalton and Cindy; lived in the room his nephews now occupied. Logan lived with them for a while only to disappear, then reappear. They discovered he was an addict like their father. Weasel still grieved Logan’s loss.
???
Luckily, Stanley’s Will specified his wishes and funeral plans, and through a lawyer, had already paid for arrangements with White Oak Funeral Services. Not certain that Rebecca was capable of decision making, she’d grown silent. After eating one doughnut, she drank her coffee. But other than that, she’d resembled a zombie while getting ready.
Larry Bergman, the funeral director, discussed the outlined plan and inquired which day to schedule the interment. With no response, he worried she’d gone catatonic. Then Larry asked her to consider out of town relatives who must travel. The typical arrangement was they had two days of visitation and then the burial on the third day.
“Two days of visitation?” she sputtered. “No, no, no…” Shaking her head, she rubbed temples. “I can’t…”
Weasel interlaced their fingers. “Babe, it’ll be okay. It gives everyone a chance to come and pay respects…”
“I can’t take two days.” The tears were running again, and he grabbed for the tissues on Larry’s desk.
“The time can be limited,” Larry offered. “On the first day we’ll begin at four; the first hour is family only and then open it for guests from five to eight.”
“Fine,” she said. Even he knew that in woman-speak this did not mean fine. In this case, it meant that she thought Larry was an asshole but didn’t have the strength to argue, but it could come back to bite Larry later. He was just glad that the ‘fine’ wasn’t aimed at him. “My family will make travel plans when I send them the funeral information. Let’s get this over with this week, if possible.”
He received a text message from Nick and excused himself from the room.
M.E. report finds cause of death natural causes
are you sure?
Closed case. Sorry. How is she
at funeral home.
Let me know when
K
Weasel returned to the director’s office to find Rebecca sobbing and Larry trying to give her more tissues. “What the hell did you say?” Weasel moved to wrap his arms around her and tugged her close. He kissed the top of her head and wished to God there was something he could do to take away her heartache.