by Jerry Cole
“I can stay with you so that you do sleep easy. It would be my pleasure.”
“Oh, I'd like that very much...”
Chapter Eight
Roland
The funeral parlor buzzed with hushed conversation as classical music played softly in the background. A couple of people were gathered near the water cooler in the rear of the parlor as others traveled up the aisle to visit the casket at the front. When the people passed through the doorway, Roland nodded and gave respectful smiles to each one, greeting them as though they were his own family.
He had his hands folded in front of him and his back straight in a professional pose as he looked on to make sure that everything was perfect. But everything wasn't perfect.
Everything was far from perfect.
His heart thumped hard when he glanced at the clock. The viewing would end shortly, but the minutes seemed to drag on menacingly. He watched the hands of the clock swirl so slowly that he questioned whether or not he might have been awake. He blinked rapidly, chasing away the image of the clock in favor of glancing toward the front of the parlor.
The casket was open. It was a common request for many families and Roland was accustomed to seeing clients laid to rest on their beds of silk. After all, he worked on nearly every single one, preparing them for their final journey to the ground. But this one—Mr. Dudley—seemed to spark in him a picture that didn't quite make sense.
For a split second, he thought he saw Gabe in the casket. His heart thumped twice, and he redirected his gaze, searching for something normal to look at.
He halfway chuckled to himself, keeping his features composed.
None of this is normal, he reflected. Although we have kept these funeral customs for a long time, it isn't normal to see death or mourning. Or is it?
He shook his head and planted another professional grin on his face as more family members passed by. Standing just at the end of the aisle was a little girl. She couldn't have been more than eight. Her mother was tugging gently on her hand, whispering urgently for her to follow.
Roland carefully stepped over to them.
He caught the last of what the mother was whispering: “...just sleeping, Violet. You have nothing to be afraid of. Just come along.”
“I can't.”
Her mother sighed with a mixture of grief and frustration. When she saw Roland approach, she put on a smile. “Thank you for hosting us today. My father would have liked the flowers.”
Roland bowed his head respectfully. “We're glad to be of service, ma'am. Would you like to go see him?”
“I'm afraid my daughter can't handle it.”
“That's quite all right. May I help?”
She took a shaky breath and nodded, placing her hand on her daughter's shoulder. “Violet, this is the man that helped with your granddaddy.”
Violet looked on with a vacant expression, though there was a tinge of fear in her face. Roland offered her a smile and held out his hand. “Your mother is right, you know. He is just sleeping. I can show you if that's all right.”
She hesitantly took Roland's hand and then her mother's, the three of them walking leisurely up the aisle.
Violet tugged on his hand. “Does he know we're here?”
Roland glanced questioningly at the mother to make sure it was all right for him to answer. When she nodded, he replied gently, “I like to think that he does. I think he would be comforted to know you were all here for him.”
“Does it hurt?”
“No, it doesn't hurt. We made sure he was as comfortable as possible.”
“But where is he going?”
The mother stopped and chided, “Violet, not now.”
“It's quite all right,” Roland assured in a whisper. “All of us are curious about these things and that's okay.”
The mother smiled weakly. “She's been asking since we got here.”
“I remember when my granddaddy passed away. I was younger than you are now,” he said to Violet. “But I remember my mother telling me that he moved on to a nice place where he can rest.”
“Is he scary? I don't like coffins.”
“I assure you he is not scary. He looks just as you remember.”
Roland stopped a few feet from the coffin, allowing Violet and her mother to take their time stepping forward. The mother lifted Violet into her arms and held her near the coffin. Violet hid her face in her mother's blouse.
When the mother stepped back, she whispered to Roland, “Thank you so much.”
“Would you like me to fetch a juice pack for her and a water bottle for you?”
“Yes, please. That would be so nice.”
Roland nodded and retreated to the kitchen. There, he stopped for a moment in front of the fridge with his hand on the door, absorbing the cool air greeting his face. He hadn't realized how hot he felt. After a few deep breaths, he grabbed a juice pack and a water bottle, then went back to the parlor. He found the woman and handed them their drinks.
“Is there anything else I can do for you today?” he offered gently.
She shook her head. “No, and thank you for helping with my daughter. She's just scared.”
“That's okay. I understand. I'm glad I could help.”
After another professional nod, Roland retreated back to the kitchen. Even though helping one of their clients had been soothing, his heart was still beating like it was ready to burst from his chest. He held his hand over his heart, feeling the rhythm increase beat by beat. He took a few breaths to calm himself, but it didn't seem to help.
He sat down.
The door to the kitchen swung open and Dora walked in holding an empty basket. “They really went through these things.” She set the basket on the counter, reaching for a bag of apples to pry open. “At least no one is yelling. Remember last week with that guy? God—the nerve of some people during funerals.”
“Dora, are you afraid of death?”
She stopped with an apple in each hand, turning slowly to face Roland with a confused expression. “Are you all right?”
“Yes, I'm quite fine. I was just helping a mother and her little one to the casket. She was afraid, the little girl. And I was just wondering if you were afraid of death, too.”
“Are you running a fever?” She dropped the apples in the basket and immediately went to his side, placing the back of her hand to his forehead. “Wow, you're burning up. Maybe you should go home.”
“We have one more service today.”
“Which I can handle just fine on my own. It's nothing big.”
He sighed. “No, Dora, I'd like to stay.”
“I don't know if that's a good idea.”
“It's a fine idea. It's my job, and I want to stay and see it through.”
She crossed her arms over her chest, eyeing him carefully. After a brief silence, she went back to the basket and finished filling it up. “As your new family member, I feel like I must insist on you going home.”
“I was just wondering.”
She held the basket under one arm, considering his question. “No, I'm not afraid of death. But I am afraid of what happens after death. I've never really gotten a clear answer on that one.”
“I don't think anybody has gotten a clear answer.”
“That's true—but why are you asking now? You've always put a professional distance between you and your work. What happened to change that?”
“I think I'm just getting on in my years.”
She laughed. “Roland, you're only twenty-eight years old! How in the world do you think you're getting on in your years?”
“Gabe...he...” He licked his lips, controlling the appearance of his emotions on his face. “I'm just worried.”
“Is he becoming a distraction already?”
“No, ma'am. Not at all.”
She arched an eyebrow at him as she went to the door. “You're such a bad liar, Roland. If you could grab a new water jug for the cooler, that would be excellent. I can give you som
e more tasks to keep your brain occupied as well.”
He smiled warmly at her. “Thank you, Miss Dora. I appreciate that.”
“And don't brood in here for too long. Keep busy. We can talk later if that would help.”
He nodded and she disappeared from the kitchen. Once he felt she was far enough away, he dropped his head into his hands.
I swore I wouldn't worry, but I'm worried. He rubbed his temples gently. I couldn't stop picturing him in that casket. What if his stunt fails? What if he dies? If he's worried about his friend being murdered, why is he still working for that production company?
His mind became a whirlwind that threatened to break him down. In an effort to stop it, he shot up from his chair and went to the pantry, popping open the door to locate the jugs of water that they kept well-stocked. He hoisted one over his shoulder, smoothed the front of his suit jacket, and went to the door.
Before he pushed on the swinging door, he put on a gentle and professional smile. It was best not to look too worried in a funeral parlor as well as to not look too joyful. When he felt prepared, he stepped into the hallway and went into the viewing room where he quickly replaced the empty jug of water.
Patrons instantly swelled around the water jug to refill their cups. He tidied up the snack table and even spruced up some of the flowers, making sure they were presentable. He looked on at the people around him that filled the pews, studying their grim expressions and teary eyes. They looked somber even when some of them smiled.
He felt their pain—he always did. It was what made him good at his job. Being empathetic aided him in providing the best care possible so people could see their family members off with dignity and grace. As he went to the doorway, he took one last glance back and noticed the daughter and mother he had helped. They looked slightly less worried.
It made him feel lighter as he left the parlor.
When he walked back into the kitchen, he immediately searched for his phone, sending a frantic text to Gabe, Please, be careful today.
He watched the screen while waiting for a response. He knew by now that Gabe would likely not answer in the middle of a set.
But what if he's between scenes? Maybe he'll check his phone and be happy about my text. I know I shouldn't worry but…
His phone buzzed.
I'm always careful, babe, Gabe replied with a smiling emoji. I thought you swore not to worry?
It just cropped up.
Well, let me put you at ease.
Roland waited as he watched the screen remain unchanged. A few minutes passed and he received another message, this one containing a picture of Gabe next to someone wearing a leather jacket. They were both wearing smiles and helmets.
Roland grinned.
That certainly helps, he typed. I have to get back to work, but I'll see you soon, right?
No three-day wait?
None at all!
Great! I'll pick you up tonight and we can ride through the desert. I'm sure that will help ease your mind.
I look forward to it.
Roland set down his phone. Gabe's reassurance had helped ease his anxiety, putting him in a much better mood. He felt ready to handle the next funeral and stood up, determined to put the rest of his worries aside so he could help those who were about to arrive.
When he returned to the parlor, he found it empty save for the two workers they had hired to take the coffin back down to the morgue.
Dora approached him. “You look better.”
“I just needed to ask him about it.”
“Good. I'm glad it's sorted. Are you ready to change out the flowers?”
He nodded and eagerly dove into work.
Chapter Nine
Gabe
The Jeep's engine idled as Gabe sat on the curb, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel. He had his eyes fixed on the doors leading up to Roland's apartment. He knew Roland would appear soon, but he was far too excited to wait. He felt like he was going to explode.
When the doors parted and he saw Roland, he scooted up in his seat, practically bouncing. Roland climbed up into the Jeep, shooting Gabe a concerned expression. “There are no doors.”
“No need for doors. We're not going anywhere dangerous.”
“Traffic around here is always dangerous, Gabe.”
Gabe flashed Roland a wide grin. “Do you trust me?”
“What?”
Gabe gently took Roland's hand. “Do you trust me?”
Roland stroked his trim beard as he fell into thought. His eyes flitted between Gabe's as if he were searching for something, perhaps looking for the answer to Gabe's question. He dropped his hand from his beard and grinned. “Yes, I trust you.”
“Then, strap in, babe. We're going for a ride.”
Once Roland had his safety belt strapped over his lap, Gabe put the car into drive and carefully peeled away from the curb. He drove cautiously through traffic, allowing Roland time to get used to the way the vehicle felt when it shifted lanes and picked up speed. The radio crackled with static and he shut it off, opting instead for the rush of sound that surrounded them on the strip.
There were lights everywhere that bombarded his vision, filling him with a sense of excitement. All sorts of musicians lined the street with dozens upon dozens of shops. There were restaurants nestled between stores and clubs dotting every other corner. A variety of smells greeted his nostrils from exhaust to alluring ethnic food, including the faint whiff of cologne or perfume as they passed intersections piled with people.
“I love the city,” he remarked while he maneuvered the car toward the desert. “It just doesn't get better than this.”
“It's always been too noisy for me.”
“It can get loud, but it can also be incredible.”
As Roland spoke, a Cadillac passed by blaring metal music and drowned out the other sounds surrounding them. Gabe laughed as Roland shook his head.
“See what I mean?” Roland pointed out. “It's too loud.”
“Human expression can be loud sometimes. I've learned to embrace it and love it.”
“I don't see how you get used to it. I never have.”
“But you've been here for a whole decade! How could you not?”
Gabe maneuvered the car to the streets that would lead them out of the city. As the Jeep scooted along, he started to pick up speed. He glanced at Roland for a split second before redirecting his eyes to the road, knowing that any errant moves might make Roland nervous. He didn't want to scare the sweet man away. It was too soon for that.
Once the Jeep was past the strip, he felt the air change. They were soon outside of the city. The desert air was cool at this hour, reminding him of camping trips and swapping stories around the bonfire. The city faded behind them and he reached for Roland's hand to squeeze.
“Is this better?”
Roland kissed Gabe's hand. “Much better.”
Gabe smiled. “Good.”
He drove on in silence for a while, just letting the wind caress his skin and whip his hair around his face. He felt unguarded and wild as if he could fight a lion or take on an entire army. His blood pumped fast in his veins, reminding him of what it meant to be alive. Every time he pressed harder on the gas, he got the urge to take them off-roading so he could show Roland his favorite spots.
But the faster he drove, the more Roland squeezed his hand. He let off the gas and slowed to a normal speed, feeling the relief zapping him from Roland's fingers.
“Are you all right?” he asked. “Should I pull over?”
“No, I'll be fine.”
“I don't mean to scare you. I just like going fast.”
“That seems to be your thing.”
Gabe frowned slightly. He slowed the Jeep down carefully and pulled over on the side of the road, following a narrow lane giving way to an open lot. He pulled into a faded space and turned off the car. The night erupted around them, swelling with bugs and frogs. He could hear coyotes howling in the distance. Li
fe was in full swing around them.
Yet he felt like he was being drained.
He turned to Roland. “Do I scare you?”
“What?”
“Do I scare you? It felt like you didn't like any of this. I just want to know because I don't want you to be scared of me.”
Roland stared off into the distance. His eyes were filled with the glow of the headlights, the only light for many miles around other than the moon. The darkness of the desert seemed to sink into the vehicle and fill the space between them. Gabe could feel the distance growing.
He braced himself for Roland's reply.
But the reply never came. Roland seemed to be too preoccupied to say much more. Gabe sighed and joined him in viewing the desert. “You know, I love to come out here to think. Not a lot happens out here.”
“I thought you liked everything fast-paced?”
“I do. I prefer it that way. I think life is too short to be cautious.”
“On the contrary, I find that life's brevity is what makes me want to savor every moment. I like to be in the present without worries.”
“So, why are you so worried right now?”
Roland huffed with amusement. “Who says I was worried?”
“You didn't have to say it. You look worried. Is it this stunt I'm about to do? Because I'll tell you now, I'm not going to not do a stunt on your behalf.”
Gabe felt the bitterness of his words sitting on the edge of his lower lip. He licked at the spot where he felt it, hoping to push it away. But it wouldn't go away.
Roland sighed. “I would never ask you to stop doing something you love.”
“But?”
“But it worries me.”
“You swore you wouldn't make this a thing, Roland. What happened to keeping your word? I trusted you.”
“And I trust you. But I'm not sure it's such a great idea to see someone who is so careless with his life.”
Gabe scoffed. “Being a stuntman isn't being careless. It's far from it. Do you know how much time Jax and I spent developing the barrel drop? We've done it half a dozen times in the past.”
“I believe you when you say that.”
“But?”
“Why does there always have to be an addition attached to what I say?”