The Third Ten

by Jacqueline Druga

  Dean answered. “Looks as if the Great War may be on the horizon.”

  “Unfortunately,” Ellen added. “Another great war has already begun and it’s devastating.” She paused when she saw their confused faces. “The war between the Slagels.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  “How does one do it?” Father Michael stood before the packed, standing room only church in Bowman.

  Father O’Brien sat in one of the two celebrant chairs on the altar. Instead of traditional black, both men wore a white vestment with a purple stole. A message to the congregation that while they mourned they needed to celebrate a life so worth remembering.

  The entire ceremony was traditional, with Jenny Matoose and Danny doing the readings. Before that, the subdued mood was set when Elliott sang, ‘Here I am, Lord’, as Frank, Hal, Jimmy, Johnny, Dean and Jess, serving as pallbearers, escorting the white pall covered coffin up the aisle.

  Traditional up to the point when Father Michael took the pulpit, removed the microphone from the stand and stepped to the bottom of the altar to get personal.

  “How does one speak of a life in eight minutes or less, when a single moment in that life can be hours’ worth of talking? How does one even begin to give comfort through words when such a loss is unimaginable to everyone?” He paused and sighed. “When I was asked to say the mass for Robbie, I was beyond honored. After all, it is Robbie. While I was so new here in Beginnings, even I knew Robbie. Everyone knew Robbie.”

  The entire Slagel family sat in the first pew of the church, with Joe on the end. All of them appeared stoic, that was on the outside. The slight gloss across their eyes, reddened necks on each of them made it apparent it took everything they had to keep it together.

  Father Michael continued, “Is it any wonder why so many are here today, why so many visited and paid their respects yesterday. Each member of the Slagel family represents the Slagels in their own way. Robbie represented, the happiness and unity through an innocence that only he could have.”

  Hal focused on Father Michael, his views occasionally shifting to the coffin. It was surreal to him, not happening. He sat between Jimmy and Frank, every once and a while reaching out to his brothers.

  “I wanted to get to know Robbie even better,” said Father Michael. “So I spoke to a lot of people. Almost every single person claimed that Robbie wrote a song for them, almost every single person claimed Robbie was their best friend. How is that possible? I asked myself. And the more I got to know Robbie, the more I realized, if anyone was able to pull that off, it was him. Heck, I wanted Robbie to be my best friend. And he would have been. He was there for everyone.”

  For the first time, since he arrived in Beginnings, Jimmy finally felt united with his brothers. It broke his heart, that the youngest of them was gone. The entire family survived the most tragic event only to be separated by something that happened long before. During the entire service, his mind kept flashing back to Robbie ….a little boy, as a teenager, a ball player, musician, prankster ….as a brother.

  “That which doesn’t break us, will define our path. Robbie had always faced insurmountable odds and beat them. He rose above that which brought him down and managed, always to bring others up in the process. “

  It took everything Frank had to keep it together, to not get up out of the pew and run from the church. He wanted to race outside and scream from the top of his lungs. Walking up the aisle, hand on the coffin, gently pushing it forward was the first time, Frank was certain he was going to pass out. His eyes kept shifting to Hal, Jimmy, Ellen, Dean, all them looking back at him, giving him a reassuring look. He tried making eye contact with his father, but Joe wouldn’t even glance his way. The process to help grieving by bring back tradition was proving torturous. Frank just wanted the whole thing over.

  “Robbie was handsome, strong and heroic. And that smile, that smile wouldn’t just light up a room, it would light up a universe. He was here from the beginning, he was a part of building this community, finding survivors and he didn’t just readjust them into civilization, he made them a part of his Beginnings family. Everyone felt special because Robbie treated them special. If we learn anything from this tragedy is to learn how he lived his life. To bask in that. Because Robbie didn’t just leave us with his music and memories, he left a legacy here in Beginnings and not many people can make claim to that. God bless you.” Father Michael stepped back on to the altar and everyone stood.

  <><><><>

  “I promise not to be long winded,” Hal smiled nervously as he stood at the pulpit. “When I first found my family, my reunion with Robbie was that of watching him fall out of a chair, then not an hour later, I found out I could have found my family earlier. My father, in all his prepared glory left a note on the door to our childhood home. One giving indication where he went and that he was alive.” Hal paused. “Robbie took that note. He laughed about it, eating brownies that Andrea made for him; my baby brother drove me nuts. He was one of a kind. The way he took to Andrea and embraced her as his mother. I mean … he embraced, sometimes he took advantage of her, but she never minded, it was Robbie. He defended Frank as if our big brother was some sort of untouchable super hero. You know what? To Robbie he was. What a gift, Frank,” Hal looked at him. “What a gift our brother has left you. I am envious of that. For as much as we fought, irritated each other, we loved each other. We are brothers and I thank God for that and to my father for giving us that gift. Robbie never took anything serious, that’s what made him so loveable. I would like to say, I would love to take that with me, but I can’t be that person. No one can. I’ll just bask in the time I had with my brother and the memories I will cherish forever.” He stepped from the altar and back to the pew. As he slipped into the pew, Joe grabbed his hand.

  Hal sat down and Frank stood, making his way to the podium.

  “I want to thank everyone for being here. For all of you who came up here and spoke, thank you for everything you said. Dan, Henry, Jess, all of you. For making us think, remember, cry and … laugh at a time like this. That was Robbie, though. Always trying to make people smile, and even in death he still manages to do it. I wrote a letter to him.” Frank reached into his chest pocket and pulled out a folded sheet of paper. He sniffled as he opened it and semi faced the coffin. “Dear Robbie. Thank you for being my little brother. Thank you for being the voice of reason because no one else could get through to me. For agreeing with me even though you didn’t want to, because no one else would. You were my motivation so many times. You made me want to be a better man because I loved that look in your eyes when I did something right. When you left us, you took a piece of my soul with you. That’s okay, because there was nothing I wouldn’t give you. Wait for me up there, it won’t be too long,” Frank sniffed. “According to Dean I’m dying in like …” he paused. “Twenty years.”

  There weren’t laughs, but the entire church rang out with gasps and shuffles as everyone looked or turned to look at Dean.

  “I’ll miss you. I love you. Frank.” Frank put the note back in his pocket and walked down the altar pausing at the coffin. He laid both hands flush upon it, leaned forward and placed his lips to it, holding them there, then whispering, “Bye, little Brother.”

  He walked to the pew and so much wanted for his father to reach for him, to grip his hand the way that he did Hal’s, but Joe didn’t. He stared forward and Frank slid in finding his spot next to Hal as Jimmy stood.

  Hal grabbed his hand and gave it a squeeze.

  “In lieu of speaking,” Father Michael said. “Jimmy would like to play a song.”

  Softly Joe could be heard saying. “Oh, Jesus, he’s bringing out the triangle.”

  “This should be good,” Hal tapped Frank’s leg. He then looked oddly when Jimmy grabbed the acoustic guitar and sat in a chair. Hal cringed. “Frank, he’s gonna try to play guitar.”

  “Let him go,” Frank whispered. “Robbie is probably loving this.”

  Both Hal and Frank
prepared for the worst, and sat up at the same time with attention, when Jimmy not only started picking the guitar strings, but did so beautifully.

  Immediately Frank looked for Elliott, it had to be a mistake, Elliott had to be playing behind the scenes, because Jimmy never mentioned playing anything other than the triangle.

  And then … he sang.

  “The road is long …”

  Frank closed his eyes.

  “With many a winding roads …”

  With clenched jaws, Frank held back emotions when he heard how amazing and emotionally Jimmy sang.

  “My God,” Hal whispered. “He sounds exactly like Robbie.”

  Frank nodded, then lowered his head. He didn’t move, didn’t flinch, in fact he barely took a breath because he didn’t want to miss a moment of the song that flowed through his being and shook him to the core of his foundation.

  The whole church was silent while Jimmy sang, a gut wrenching rendition of the very fitting song, ‘He Ain’t Heavy, He’s my Brother.”

  <><><><>

  “Before we head into the final prayer,” Father Michael said. “Andrea has requested that Sgt. Ryder sing this rendition of this very special song for Robbie.”

  The organ rang out, striking the four chord church music to a song, slow and sounding like something holy. Then Elliott sang. “How silly can you … get?”

  Frank saw it. Through the corner of his eye, his father’s head lifted. Frank lowered his head staring at his semi folded hands tapping his thumbs nervously.

  “How … silly can you …”

  “Enough!” Abruptly, Joe stood. “Enough. Stop.”

  Elliott stopped.

  Soft, emotionless, Frank said, “Dad, sit down.”

  “Joe turned sharply to Andrea. “What is wrong with you? You think this is a joke? This is my son’s funeral.”

  “Dad, sit down.”

  Andrea burst out a sob. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Joe, I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t apologize,” Frank said eerily calm. “Dad, sit down.”

  “You got something to say, Frank?”

  “I said …” Frank stood up and blasted, “Sit down!”

  “I’m sorry,” Andrea kept repeating. “I am so ...”

  “Quit apologizing,” Frank told her. “You did nothing wrong.”

  “Unbelievable,” Joe stepped from the pew. “She is just one last person to make this into a mockery. I have sat there and listened to stories that made this a joke.” He headed into the aisle.

  “You will not walk away.”

  Hal grabbed on to Frank. “Let him go.”

  “No. No. Dad, get back here. Sit down!”

  Joe spun around and charged back. “Who the hell do you think you are, talking to me like that? Have you paid attention to this? Have you? Of course not because you set it all up. You’re too dense to see ...”

  “Dad!” Hal snapped.

  “Not you too.” Joe shook his head. “The Silly Song? The Silly Song at a funeral?”

  “Robbie’s funeral,” Frank said.

  “No shit.”

  “And it’s not about his death, it’s about his life and that song is all Robbie. It’s Robbie,” Frank said strong and emotional. “And if you don’t see that, then I have to wonder how well you really knew your son.”

  “Go to hell, Frank.” Joe turned and walked out. His footsteps cut through the silent and stunned feel of the church, finalizing his exit with a slam of the door.

  Frank cleared his throat and adjusted his tie. “Continue please. Do the song.” He started to sit, but stopped and stood again. “Please. But … don’t play it that way, pick up the guitar and play it the way my brother would. Thank you.” He sat down and grabbed Andrea’s hand. “Sorry,” he whispered.

  She gripped his hand in return, shook her head, leaned against Frank, and even smiled slightly when Elliott began playing the upbeat version of the song.

  Frank tried to put the confrontation from his mind as the service continued. He hated that his father left, it infuriated him and hurt. But a part of him was glad he had gone, because if his father didn’t like the fact that The Silly Song was being played, he would have hated when everyone started singing along.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  No one mentioned it and nothing was said. It was as if Joe’s outburst of anger and Frank’s words had never occurred. Even Ellen didn’t want to talk about it.

  She did pull Father Michael aside and tossed out the comment, “Boy, the way the mass ended, huh?” hoping to get some sort of feedback from him.

  “Ellen,” he said. “I’m Italian, I grew up in an Italian community, my first church was a large Italian congregation, outbursts are nothing for me. Especially those emotionally charged. We look at the circumstance and let it go.”

  He was right.

  She felt bad for every member of the family. She supposed that some would side with Joe, some with Frank, but to her each of them had their points and right or wrong, they were within their every right to feel anyway they wanted.

  The cemetery, reception after was business as usual.

  Home, however was far from that.

  They were all exhausted, the children especially, and really all that Ellen wanted was to be home with her family. Andrea had said the same thing, but Ellen was worried about her and went to check on her while the kids played a card game.

  She was sad, more so than she had been, but told Ellen she was alright.

  “No worries, I’ll be fine. Just a little extra sad because my husband has pushed me away in his time of need,” she said.

  “I know that feeling.”

  Ellen did.

  She had lost not only her brother in law, but her friend and someone she had known forever, yet Ellen and Frank had barely spoke since his passing.

  She had only been gone a few minutes, and when she returned, Billy was passed out on the floor. She stepped over him and headed to the bedroom, where she could hear Frank shuffling about behind the closed door.

  After knocking once, she stepped in. “Hey.”

  Frank sat on the edge of the bed lacing his boot. “Hey.”

  “Did you want to watch a movie or talk or …”

  “I can’t.” He switched to the other boot.

  “You okay?”

  “No. But I will be.”

  “Frank, I hate to sound like that wife, but we … we haven’t talked, I’m worried …”

  “I know and I’m sorry. I am. Thing, well, you know.”

  “I understand.”

  “I have to go.” He stood. “I have things to do.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “First to find my father, seems the vote has been counted.”

  “I forgot about it,” Ellen said. “What was the decision?”

  “Overwhelmingly to take them out.” Frank kissed her on the cheek. “I have to go.”

  “You don’t seem happy or gung-ho about it.”

  He walked by her and stopped. “I’m not. This is the wrong move. My gut is screaming at me that this is wrong. And I have to figure out something.” He continued walked.

  “Good luck,” she called out, but he was gone..

  Things had changed since Robbie had died, they changed big time, and for the sake of her family, Ellen hoped it was just temporary.

  <><><><>

  The Social Hall was subdued when Frank entered. No music, no laughter, just a large crowd that created a low hum of conversation, yet everyone seemed to quiet down even more and look at Frank when he walked toward Joe.

  Joe finished off his drink without looking at Frank. “Unless this is important, I’m going home.”

  “I wanted to talk to you about this vote.”

  “I want to move in the morning on this,” Joe said. “I suggest you get some rest to oversee this.”

  “Dad,” Frank said with passion. “We can’t. We can’t do this.”

  Joe slammed his glass. “What the hell is the matter wi
th you Frank? Huh?”

  “I just feel …”

  “You’re wrong. You only wanna play soldier and run in there. Well, that’s not the way things are going to happen. We cannot risk the lives of our men because of your gut instinct. No matter how carefully you plan a ground attack, we risk lives. The people have spoken.”

  “You led them that way.”

  “Oh, bullshit.”

  Frank stepped closer to Joe. “You never mentioned once in your speech three were civilians there.”

  “How many did you see, Frank? One or two.” Joe shook his head. ‘Be ready for the morning.”

  “I can’t do this.”

  “Then you won’t. You’re fired, I’ll get your brother to handle it. No problem.” Joe stood up.

  “Listen, please, There is something different about this. To go in there and just wipe them out.”

  “So says the man who did it to the savages. Never did you feel bad about that or argue. I’m out of here.”

  “You usually listen to me. Maybe… maybe your thinking is clouded or something.”

  Joe stared coldly at him.

  “This is different. I promise you, this is different.”

  Midway leaving, Joe stopped and spun to Frank. “Then prove it. Prove it. You think I’m wrong. You think I’m being irrational, then prove it. You have twelve hours. After that, the camp is gone.” Joe walked out.

  Frank released an emotional exhale and leaned on the bar.

  “So…” the voice said to him.

  Frank looked to his left and then to his right.

  “Down here.”

  Frank looked down. Tigger sat on the bar. “I didn’t see you.”

  “That’s fine. I’m a little person, you’re a big person. You’ll have that. Anyhow, so, let me ask you a question.”

  “Sure.”

  “You’re like a war monger. Or so I thought, but yet, you stopped the attack on Lodi, stopped my dad from killing George.”