Funeral with a View

by Schiariti, Matt

Taking most of the day to build up my fortitude, I knocked on the open door late in the afternoon. “Hey, Sandy. Got a minute?”

  She looked up from her monitor, a harsh late-summer thunderstorm raging outside the office. Rain pounded the two windows behind her desk.

  “Sure,” she said curtly. “Close the door behind you and have a seat.”

  “About the conference …”

  “Yes … the conference. I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that.” Face flushed, she stood and looked out the window, arms crossed in front of her chest. Lightning flashed, making her black business suit look even blacker.

  “I’m sorry,” I said quietly. “I don’t know what came over me.”

  “I’ve never done anything like that before.” Her voice was hushed, and I strained to hear it over rolling thunder.

  “Neither have I.”

  “I’m not a home wrecker, Rick. It’s important to me that you know that.”

  “I never thought any such thing.”

  Her head dipped. “Thank you.”

  “Leading you on wasn’t my intention, Sandy.”

  “You didn’t lead me on. I took advantage. It was ignorant of me, and I shouldn’t have been in your room in the first place. You’re married for God’s sake. I’ve met your wife. What was I thinking?” I didn’t answer. She was asking herself that question, not me.

  We became quiet. The storm intensified.

  Sandy turned to me. She looked hurt, but accepting. “How’ve you been?” she asked, changing the subject, for which I was relieved. “You’d mentioned you had some things going on. Are they better now? We haven’t seen much of each other lately, but you seem happier.”

  “I’m good. Everything is getting back to normal.”

  “And that’s a good thing, right?”

  “It’s a great thing.” It was the best of things.

  She smiled. “Happy to hear it. I told you everything would fall into place.”

  “When you’re right, you’re right.”

  My cellphone buzzed. I didn’t recognize the number on the caller ID, so I put it back in my pocket.

  Sandy’s smile faded as she rested her hands on the desk. “Rick, I know you may not believe this after the way I’ve been acting for the past few weeks, but it’s also important to me that you know none of this will affect our working relationship.” The thought was nice, but I honestly didn’t see how things could ever go back. “I’m not vindictive,” she winked, “no matter what the office gossips say. You do believe me, don’t you?”

  “Of course. I know you better than that.”

  My phone buzzed again. Same number. I ignored it once more.

  “Wonderful,” she said. “Then we’ll move on like responsible adults.”

  I sighed. “Sometimes I still feel like a kid.”

  “Don’t we all,” she laughed. “Still, I meant what I said. If you need anything, ever, let me know.”

  A reply was on the tip of my tongue as my phone buzzed for the third time.

  “Do you mind?” I asked.

  “Not at all.”

  I stood up, the phone to my ear. “Hello?”

  “Is this Rick Franchitti?”

  “Speaking.”

  “This is—” A loud clap of thunder rumbled the windowpanes, drowning out the man’s gruff, authoritative voice.

  “Could you repeat that, please?”

  “This is Sgt. Ramos of the Princeton Township Police Department.” My blood turned to ice. “There’s been an accident.”

  “An accident?” Adrenaline took over. “What’s happened?”

  “It’s your wife, sir. She’s in the emergency room at Princeton Hospital—”

  I didn’t hear the rest. Throwing the phone in my pocket, I jogged to the door.

  “Rick? Rick!” Sandy grabbed my arm. “What is it? Who’s been in an accident?”

  “It’s my wife. Cat’s in trouble. I have to go. I’m sorry, Sandy … for everything.”

  ~~~

  I burst through the emergency room doors, avoiding running into any of the moderately-sized crowd, almost slipping on the wet tile, and bolted to the reception desk.

  “I’m looking for my wife,” I panted. “Catherine Franchitti. She’s been in a car accident.”

  The woman behind the round desk looked me up and down through glasses attached to a chain that hung around her thick neck before tapping a few keys on her computer. I was a sodden mess. My hair stuck to my head, and my suit, pants, and shoes were waterlogged from running through two parking lots in the middle of a storm so bad it would have made Noah stop and say, “I think we’re gonna need a bigger boat.”

  “What’s the hold up?” I demanded. She regarded me with patience born of having witnessed many a frantic person run up to her in a disheveled heap. “Look, I’m sorry. Please. I’m scared to death here.”

  “She’s in room twenty, sir. You’re Mr. Franchitti?” I nodded. “Go right on back.” She pointed to the double doors Catherine was taken through not more than a few months ago. I nodded my thanks.

  The curtain was wide open. A man in a white lab coat stopped me just as I was ready to make my way into the small room.

  “Mr. Franchitti?” It was the same doctor who’d snapped to action when I’d rushed in with my bleeding wife; Dr. Horner. If he recognized me or merely put two and two together was something I didn’t question. “Catherine has suffered some minor lacerations and contusions. She took a pretty bad hit, but the airbag did its job. She’s going to be fine. Most importantly, the baby wasn’t harmed.”

  I breathed a sigh of relief.

  “Thank you. If you don’t mind, I’m going to … Wait. What did you just say?”

  The good doctor smiled. “I said your baby was unharmed.”

  CHAPTER 55

  “Hey, Ricky.”

  A young nurse with a mane of wild red hair, glacier blue eyes, and a bad case of acne was finishing putting a bandage on my wife’s cheek. Whatever I was expecting, I was thankful the reality was much less severe than the imagined. Catherine’s blond hair was damp, both from sweat and the weather, and she was a bit pale. Other than that and a few bandages, she seemed fine. I said a silent prayer that all the worst case scenarios I’d built up in my mind as I hydroplaned my way to the hospital hadn’t come to pass.

  “Hey, yourself.” I took Cat’s hand and nodded to her bandage. “Is that some type of new anti-aging facial treatment that’s just hit the market?”

  “You’re a dick,” she said with a pained smile. “But at least you’re my dick.”

  “Beat me to it, beautiful.”

  “Did you talk to the doctor? Ouch.” She glared at the nurse. “That hurt.”

  “Sorry,” the nurse said. “Almost finished.”

  “Yeah,” I said. “He caught me in the hall. I was scared shitless. Then he told me something.”

  “About the baby?”

  I smiled. “Yes. Not the best way to get good news, but all things considered? I’ll take it.”

  “So you’re happy about it?”

  “Hell yes, I’m happy. But what happened? I was still at work when the police called.” I felt my face flush, thinking back to what it was I was discussing when that call came. “As soon as he said ‘wife,’ ‘accident,’ and ‘emergency room,’ I hung up and broke about every traffic law there is to get over here. I didn’t even ask him about the particulars.”

  “Well, that’s a funny story. I was on my way home with a pregnancy test. I got your text saying you’d be late, so I went out to get something to eat then went to the pharmacy. Some asshole T-boned me coming out of the parking lot. You’d think people would be more careful driving in this monsoon.” She rolled her eyes. “Anyway, I told the ER doctor that I thought I was pregnant. CT scan is standard for suspected head trauma and they have to know if you’re pregnant before running one. Turns out I was right.”

  “That’s great, honey.”

  “Is it?”

  I squeeze
d her hand. “Yes.”

  “Really really?”

  “I’m all done here,” announced the nurse. “Congratulations.” She winked and mentioned something about discharge papers.

  I sat in the chair next to the gurney, my wet clothes soaking the fabric, and brushed a lock of matted hair from Catherine’s forehead. Her eyes held so many emotions. Hope. Fear. Apprehension. The shadows of past arguments still lingered.

  “Really really,” I said, kissing her hand. “I meant every single word I said over the past few weeks, Cat. About starting a family, about having a baby. I wasn’t just saying it because that’s what I thought you wanted to hear. It’s what I want. For us. You and me and baby make three.”

  Her smile lit up the room.

  A commotion that rose above the constant din of activity in the ER came from out in the hall.

  “I want to see my sister and you can’t stop me!”

  “Jude,” Cat said with a grin.

  “I’ll go get her before she starts busting up the joint.”

  “She’ll do it, too.”

  “You stay put.” I laid a soft kiss on her lips. “Love you, Cat.”

  She slowly changed her focus from me to the wall. “Love you too, Ricky.”

  CHAPTER 56

  The funeral parlor is near-silent. I’ve been roaming around, eavesdropping in my ghostly way, but a collective hush has fallen like a blanket of fresh snow. The time to get the proverbial show on the road is almost here and still no Bill. Is he ever going to show up?

  I move over to the picture display.

  Why do I torture myself like this? Simple. I’m scared.

  I want to inhale all these remnants of my life, the happy memories and the faces of my loved ones, before they’re snatched away from me forever. This uncertain space between spaces is maddening. When I’m finally buried and gone, will I remember any of this, or will it all just end? When I’m in the ground, will cold nothingness descend on me as I blink out of existence? I’m frightened that there’s nothing at the end of my tunnel. The longer my end is kept from me, the tighter my grip on the past and the present becomes.

  Now I’m absorbed with pictures of my small family. Pictures of a tired, yet proud Catherine holding Celeste minutes after giving birth. Pictures of our daughter playing with a shovel and pail at the beach when she’d first started crawling. Preschool class photos. The three of us smiling, gathered around a birthday cake. Memories flood back with each and every image.

  In life you think you’ll have time to go back and revisit the memories, but you put it off until another day. Organizing the photo album? Bah, that can wait'll tomorrow. Then you end up like me, trying to extract three dimensional emotions from two dimensions of color on paper for all you’re worth.

  Almost an hour ago I’d convinced myself that I didn’t know how I felt about funerals. I was kidding myself. I’ve been terrified this whole time, but now I’m angry. Angry that I didn’t get nearly enough time with my family. Angry for saying things I shouldn’t have said. Angry for not saying the things I should have.

  “Mommy, Aunt Angie’s here.”

  Celeste’s voice rings clearly and loudly, cutting through the silence. I peer over to the door where my daughter is leading Angela in by the hand. She, like most everyone else, is dressed in black. Her eyes are red and swollen, and she’s clutching her handbag against her stomach as if to ward off some type of malignant force.

  Angela hugs Catherine and whispers in her ear. I don’t catch what’s said, but my wife nods and asks, “Bill?”

  Angela shakes her head. Her short brown hair bobs. Very much an ‘if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it’ kind of girl, Angela had never once changed her hairstyle in all the years I’ve known her.

  “He’s not here already?”

  “No. Not yet.”

  “I’m sorry, Cat,” Angela says wearily. “Would you like me to call him?”

  Catherine shakes her head. “No. I wouldn’t ask you to do that.”

  “It’s fine. I really don’t mind.”

  “He’ll be here, Angela.” She sits up a bit straighter, squaring her shoulders. “I know it. He owes it to Ricky.”

  “Aunt Angie,” Celeste says, tugging on Angela’s skirt. “Where’s Uncle Bill?”

  “I’m not sure, sweetie.”

  “I haven’t seen him in almost forever. He wasn’t at the .. the …” Celeste scrunches up her nose and looks at the ceiling for the right word.

  “Viewing?”

  “Yeah! The viewing. He wasn’t at the viewing last night.”

  “He was, but you’d already left with your Aunt Jude by the time he got here.”

  “Mommy said I had to go to bed.”

  Angela smiles. “Little girls need their sleep.”

  “He doesn’t come over when you do anymore. I miss him.” She lowers her head, scuffs her shoe against the deep red carpet. “But not as much as I miss Daddy.”

  Angela squats down, bringing herself to the little girl’s level and hugs her. “We all do, Celeste.”

  A beat passes.

  “Mommy says Daddy is sleeping,” Celeste says. Catherine takes a shuddering breath, tries to hold back emergent tears with a handkerchief. “But I dunno.”

  “What is it you don’t know?”

  “I think he’s an angel.”

  Angela raises an eyebrow at Catherine, who shrugs. “You do, huh?”

  An enthusiastic nod. “Yep. Even though Sam and Jeff say there’s no such thing and I’m just being a baby.”

  “That wasn’t very nice of them.”

  “It’s okay,” Celeste says, shrugging her tiny shoulders. “Big kids are always mean. They can’t help it. Can we go out front to see if Uncle Bill’s here?”

  “If it’s okay with your mother, sure.”

  “Can we, Mommy?”

  “Sure, Pookie Bear,” Cat says. “Don’t forget to thank Aunt Angie.”

  “I won’t. Come on, Aunt Angie,” Celeste grabs hold of Angela’s sleeve and takes bouncy steps toward the parlor door, “I can show you some of my pictures.” ‘Pictures’ sounds like ‘pitchers’. Too cute.

  “Oh, pictures? I love pictures. What’ve you been drawing?”

  “Angels, what else?”

  “Of course. Silly me.”

  Before they disappear through the door, Celeste looks over her shoulder, a thoughtful finger in her mouth. Her eyes wander, scanning the air for something and passing by me a few times. She nods as if making up her mind, then leads Angela out into the foyer.

  Not even ten seconds have gone by and I miss her already.

  Speaking of which, Bill’s going to wind up missing me, literally, if he doesn’t get his ass here soon. It’s not long before this show gets taken to the cemetery.

  And whatever awaits me when the ground swallows me up.

  CHAPTER 57

  September found us, once more, in Dr. Ann’s office for a routine appointment. Catherine was into her second trimester. The first was a period of exposed nerves, given our past history with pregnancy. The ‘other shoe’ hovered the entire time and we expected it to drop and squash our hopes, thus completing the hat trick of defeat. Fortunately, that never happened.

  “So, how are you feeling, Catherine?” Dr. Ann asked, the ever present lollipop dangling from her lips.

  “Great. Tired, but great.” This office held so many bad memories and it was beyond belief to finally be having a pleasant conversation.

  “Spotting, cramping?”

  “Some cramping,” I said. “Usually when I swim right after I eat. Is that normal?”

  Dr. Ann roller her eyes. “How do you put up with this character, Cat?”

  “He’s a cross to bear, but somebody’s gotta do it.” Catherine gave me a shove. “No cramping, no spotting. The morning sickness is going away, too.”

  “I can’t tell you how glad I am to hear it.” The small, energetic doctor twirled the lollipop, then pointed it at us with a wide smile. “If a
nybody deserves good news it’s you two.”

  Call me biased, but I couldn’t agree more. Cat had been poked, prodded, examined, weighed, and watched over like a hawk. Everything pointed to a healthy child. Talk about relieved.

  “So, can we call everyone now and give them the good news?” I said as we drove home, happy that the rest of the appointment went off without a hitch.

  Nobody knew Cat was pregnant. Much like the last pregnancy, we wanted to wait until the first trimester was behind us and issue-free before sharing. This time I was true to my word. I didn’t puke, wretch, or otherwise break my promise to anybody. Not Mom, not Bill, not Sandy. Nobody.

  I noticed Catherine playing with her silver bracelet.

  “Penny for your thoughts?” I said.

  “I must’ve spaced out.” She grinned; the most beautiful thing in the world next to the sound of the baby’s healthy heartbeat. “Lost in my own world, basking in the relief of good news. And I know we have a long way to go yet, but we’re looking good here, Ricky. We’re looking really good.” Her hand found mine and I interlaced my fingers in hers.

  “You know Bill and Angela are back together again.”

  She looked out the window. “She told me at work the other day.”

  “Think it’ll stick this time?”

  “Who knows? They’re taking things slow. Angela said she got spooked. This is her first serious relationship with someone who isn’t a complete asshole.”

  “We’re still talking about Bill here, aren’t we?”

  Cat chuckled. “None other. She looked to run as soon as things started getting a little too serious. She called it a ‘defense mechanism against an unhappy ending’.”

  “Sounds like there’s some kind of story there.”

  “Trust issues. Her dad ran out on her mother when she was a teenager. I don’t know all the details, but she took it pretty hard. Who wouldn’t? Angela hasn’t had many boyfriends, so she’s still inexperienced.”

  “We should have them over for dinner. Celebrate.”

  “Sure. Why not?”

  I made a left into our development. “Family’s important after all.”