Cemetery Drive

by Lucian Clark

  “He beat me with his gun. He broke my tooth while he shoved it into my mouth and told me if I ever tried to set foot outside of the house again that it would be in a body bag. That he would personally see to it.” Jack fell silent after that. His breathing was hot and jagged against my back as my shirt became wet. “So I ran to the only place I could.” To me.

  We sat in that silence for awhile. The weight of the air was heavy. Every breath seemed to be a fight. It was like sucking in the hot and humid air during the worst parts of the Georgia summer. At some point, we fell asleep in each other’s arms. Not another word was spoken between us about that night or that incident. The next time I woke up, Jack was gone.

  XI.

  “The number you have dialed is no longer in service. Please hang up and-” I hung up before the robot attendant could finish the same speech I had heard every time I had tried calling since the aquarium. Was this part of whatever new plan Jack had hinted at? How long was I to wait for step two? For further instructions? The previous night hung heavy in my mind, along with his sudden disappearance – a hungry and vacuous void. What had happened during the night? Did Gideon come calling? Did Jack decide to go into hiding? Did he leave without me? That last thought cut through me. Jack said he was leaving but, he didn’t say I was coming with him. He didn’t say he was leaving with me specifically. Was last night a goodbye and I didn’t even know it? So many questions left without answers.

  Driving by Jack’s house did not give me any answers either. The driveway remained empty, the lights off and blinds drawn. It looked unoccupied and as hollow as I felt. A shiver ran through me. Weeds had began to sprout in Jack’s normally meticulous garden. No warmth seemed to radiate from this place as it had done before, in spite of the events that took place inside. That feeling disturbed me. It set my teeth on edge. Everything felt increasingly wrong.

  I waited the night at Helena’s. The bartender and his new employee spent most of the night talking and sending sidelong glances down my way as I waited for Jack to show up. I drove by the house again on my way home and still nothing. Not even the porch light was on and the driveway remained empty. Where had they gone? Did Gideon kidnap Jack? Or something more sinister? I shook my head and took a deep breath, white knuckling the steering wheel as I crept by. Don’t go there Judah, I thought to myself.

  The thought to call the cops come across my mind. Then I thought better of it. One day didn’t mean anything, especially with Gideon somewhat frequently going out on business trips. Plus, the cops wouldn’t do anything more than give me weird looks, take my statement (if that) and that would be the end of the investigation. Jack could have been staying somewhere else, maybe a neighbor’s? Somewhere that Gideon wouldn’t come looking for him? Maybe that’s where Gideon was – out looking for Jack. I hoped and for the first time in a long time, I prayed.

  After a few days, Gideon’s car returned. Yet, I still did not see Jack. I spent minutes and then hours outside of that mansion. I grew accustomed to every cracked brick and crooked porch stair. The more I stared at the house, the more sinister it became, seeming to decay and fall into disrepair before my eyes even though I knew that wasn’t true. I saw Gideon’s large silhouette occasionally upstairs, but never did I see anything that suggested Jack was there.

  Where was he hiding? Did he truly already leave without me? These thoughts spun through my mind as I was coming home from work. My hours spent outside the mansion had been fruitless. That morning I didn’t see Gideon or Jack and Alex had asked me to come and clear my desk. It wasn’t much, just my own equipment and a few fidget toys for the slower days. Not even a full box’s worth.

  When I saw Gideon standing in front of my apartment, anger flared inside of me. What did he want? His black suit looked like it cost more than I used to make in a month and honestly, probably did. Despite the heavy clouds in the sky, he had dark shades over his eyes. He looked like a shitty celebrity bodyguard instead of one of the richest men in the city. I sneered at the idea as I stepped out of my car.

  “The fuck do you want!?” I slammed the door shut. Gideon crossed his arms. His mouth was pulled tight at the corners. He looked uncomfortable, like he didn’t want to be here either. How long had he been waiting for me?

  “I need to speak to you.” Gideon spoke in that same flat voice devoid of emotion. It made my blood boil.

  “What did you do with Jack? Where is he?” I yelled.

  “Jack’s dead.” Gideon said it so matter of fact. He raised his sunglasses up and rested them on the top of his head. The world swam. I leaned against my car before taking a deep breath as my legs started to give way. He’s just fucking with you. Jack is leaving him so he’s trying to keep him imprisoned or something. This was just a ruse. I glared at Gideon, unable to catch my breath or find the words to speak. Those eyes bore into me and he repeated it again, as if he thought I didn’t hear him. “Jack’s dead, Judah.”

  Gideon continued. “He killed himself last night. I came home from work and he was on the bathroom floor.” Gideon set his jaw and shifted his weight. “He took my gun and shot himself.” The words seemed to visibly hurt Gideon. His knuckles became as he grabbed his forearms and the color drained from his face as well. He shifted his weight between his feet, unable to find a way to stand. Tears seemed to be pooling in his deep set eyes, unable to be hidden by his heavy brows. Suddenly I realized Gideon looked like he hadn’t slept in days.

  My legs fully gave out and I slid to sit against my car. My fingers tangled in my hair, pulling on it in large fistfuls. This wasn’t some sick version of a joke from Gideon. What he said was the truth. That haunted looked on his face confirmed it all.

  Jack was dead.

  Gideon went to leave without saying anything more, climbing into his luxury sports car with the tinted windows which stood out against the economy sedans that filled the parking lot. He pulled up next to me, eyes staring straight ahead and not even bothering to look towards me.

  “The funeral is in a week. Don’t make a scene.” Then he left, peeling out of the parking lot with a screech that only shattered my thoughts more. Leaning against my car, I sat there until one of my neighbor’s pulled in. They asked if I was alright, but everything sounded underwater. I must have looked at them and answered because they walked into their apartment shortly after. I remained outside until the sun started to set. I don’t remember making it into my apartment or to my bed, but I must have at some point.

  I woke up in the middle of the night to a cold sweat. Events earlier in the day seemed to be a haze, a bad dream – or more like the worst nightmare. I felt sick. Was there a chance that I had really dreamed Jack was dead? I tried his cellphone and was greeted by that robotic voice once more. That didn’t prove anything though, his phone had been off since that night at the aquarium.

  I didn’t bother changing since I was still in my clothes from earlier. I slid my shoes on and floated down and out of the apartment and to my car. Did I really want to do this? What good would confirming Jack was dead do? Inhaling deeply, I opened the door and got in, mentally preparing myself as best I could to drive by the mansion.

  Yellow police tape was on the door. Despite the time of night, there were still police there working the scene. Gideon’s car was nowhere in site as I drove by. Every light was on in the house, illuminating it like a spotlight compared to the other houses whose lights were all off. I looked at my clock, and it wasn’t even past 11pm yet. Jack had been dead for several hours now according to Gideon. Yet, he had the funeral already planned? My mind was blank as I drove home, except for something tugging at the corners of it just out of reach. There was just something that didn’t sit right with me…

  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  The next week was a blur. I don’t know how I made it through the days. There were so many questions that wouldn’t ever have answers. Did he really kill himself? The thought soured in my stomach and I gritted my teeth. That means Jack had been home those days I drove by. Right
? Where else would he have been if I never saw him behind those curtains, outside, or at Helena’s? The plan was to finally get out of there and start living how he had hoped life would be. Then to go and kill himself? It didn’t seem right. None of this seemed right.

  There was another explanation that made more sense to me. Jack was leaving and so Gideon decided to kill him. Gideon had threatened him only t

  he week before with murder. Not only threatened him, but had beaten him with the very gun that would be the object of his demise. Shooting himself with Gideon’s gun was a pretty convenient story. Coming home from work to Jack dead was a real damn easy story to swallow with Jack’s past. Gideon had an easy alibi, and he knew it.

  Someone surely had to have heard the gunshot, right? And with Gideon’s past abusive behavior, there had to be at least one or two domestic dispute calls to their residence. Surely there would be some sort of public record that could be found that would prove that Jack didn’t kill himself. Something off about the timing of the shot, the 911 call, anything. I could potentially talk to the lawyer Jack had been speaking to before Gideon came back.

  Gideon had to have killed him. It was easier and more convenient than trying to hide a body anyway. People would ask questions if Gideon’s husband suddenly up and disappeared. Plus, there would be the public speculation and ridicule that would come with a missing husband. But, suicide? Nice and tidy. No loose ends to worry about.

  These thoughts stormed in my head as I pulled up to the church. Not many cars were in the parking lot and I recognized most of them, including Gideon’s. Jack was well liked by everyone he met, but Gideon kept him on a short leash, so it was mostly the neighbors and maybe a few connections through Gideon. Less people to question Jack’s sudden death as well. The taste of blood filled my mouth as I had been chewing on my lip out of anger. Now was not the time or place for these emotions, I thought as I pulled into the spot next to Gideon’s. “Don’t make a scene” echoed in my head.

  Despite the occasion the sun was bright and it was humid for the season, almost oppressively so. Jack would have loved to spend a day like this in a park. Despite the dark clothes he normally wore, the heat never seemed to bother him like it did everyone else. The thought brought a smile to my face before reality brought me back to where we were and why. The church Gideon had picked was a Catholic one – the oldest in the area. I was slightly surprised to see such a large and well-known establishment holding the funeral services for a queer man who had supposedly committed suicide. Money goes a long way, and the church was no exception. Respect for Jack’s life and legacy depending on the amount of money spent after he was dead. The thought made me feel more ill than I already was.

  My fingers played idly with the emerald ring in my pocket. One of the small reminders I had from the good times with Jack. I hadn’t stepped foot in a church since my mother died. Yet, here I was, stepping into a church once more due to the awful inevitable fact of death. A death that I was somewhat responsible for…again. I shook the thought from my head and walked through the intimidatingly large doors.

  The service would be called beautiful by some, I guess. I don’t remember much of it. I was distracted by my solid black suit that was causing me to sweat bullets. The people in the pew in front of me were discussing my red tie and how disrespectful it was, but honestly, it was the only one I owned. I ignored them. Honestly, as the priest spoke, all I could focus on was the casket that held Jack’s corpse. It was a gorgeous deep mahogany wood with gold accents; simple and elegant. Not the type of casket I would have expected Jack to pick out for himself. Not black or flashy enough, I thought to myself.

  As the priest called everyone up to say their final goodbyes, my heart dropped. Did I want to see Jack like this? Would the image of Jack laying in that casket be forever burned over my memories of him happy and alive? As I watched the few others in the church go up, my feet began to move before I was ready to reconcile with what I was about to see. I had to. I never had a chance to properly say goodbye on that last night.

  In death, Jack somehow looked less pale than he had in life. Whoever did his make-up had skipped the eyeliner he frequently wore, but didn’t skip the dark eye sha

  dow or his favorite red lipstick. Wrapped around him was that black dress he loved so much; that Gideon hated. Fitting for a funeral with its red sash around the waist and matching red silk underskirt. The black lace around the top looked like feathers against his skin.

  Everything felt and looked fake, like a wax figure as opposed to Jack’s actual body. My mind raced with every detail of Jack alive and I wondered if seeing him like this was a mistake. This wasn’t Jack. I should have followed my gut reaction and left the memories I had alone.

  The priest coughed, signaling that I was probably staying a bit too long, but I didn’t want to leave. Tears filled my eyes and I squeezed them shut, biting my tongue as I breathed sharply through my nose. Not here. Not in front of Gideon. I wouldn’t let him see my pain. He couldn’t know that he had won. I would not give him that satisfaction. As I returned to my seat, I caught Gideon staring at me from the corner of my eye. Watching me like a hawk and I could have sworn he was smiling.

  Jack was interred in Gideon’s family mausoleum. Despite his hatred for his husband, Gideon still gave him a millionaire’s funeral and burial. Still treated him like the family that he was supposed to be. Jack’s family did not want his body, I assumed, especially given the manner of his death. So he was buried with the past generations of Bellviews, where Gideon would go when he died as well. So much for ‘til death do us part. Anger bubbled and rolled in my stomach at the thought. The interment was almost impossible to stomach since I was the only one besides Gideon who knew the truth. I knew it was all a charade. Gideon had murdered Jack and he was going to get away with it.

  As people left the cemetery, Gideon sat down on the stairs of the mausoleum. Crocodile tears ran down his brick of a face, threatening to show the faults and cracks. Bright rays of sunshine beamed down, making his black suit somehow blacker. He stood out like Death itself against the white of the marble stairs.

  “Gideon.” I said, slowly approaching the “grieving” man. His face was buried in his hands now and his shoulders moved erratically as he sobbed. Everyone had left. Why was he still putting on this charade? “Gideon.” I said, louder this time and standing before him. Even sitting down, Gideon was still up to my chest.

  “Go away.” The words were snarled and punctuated by a deep snort as he spit a ball of phlegm in my direction.

  “I know you killed him.” My eyes bore holes through Gideon. The anger spread through my blood. Clenching my fists and teeth, I snarled. “I know you fucking killed him.” Gideon looked up at me, his face twisted between grief and confusion.

  “Me, kill Jack?” The words were spoken softly. “Judah, what are you even saying?” He actually sounded hurt.

  “You. Killed. Jack.” I hissed the words, my whole body beginning to tense. The urge to punch him in his fucking face was hard to fight.

  “You’re out of your mind.” Gideon tried to stand and I shoved him down with both my hands. He yelped in surprise, grimacing as his ass met with the hard marble.

  “No. Listen to me Gideon Bellview. I know what fucking happened. I know about the abuse, about the beatings. Jack came to me before you killed him. He told me he still planned on leaving you, especially after that stunt with the gun.” My eyes locked with Gideon’s. He was unmoving. “Jack told me you threatened to kill him if he left. Then he suddenly shows up dead with the same gun you threatened him with?” My shadow covered Gideon and he looked small to me. So much smaller than the towering monster I knew him to be.

  “That’s exactly what happened.” Gideon looked visibly ill; haunted by whatever images or scenes were playing out in his head. “I could never…”

  “Bullshit!” I screamed, grabbing Gideon by his shoulders. “You absolutely could! You beat him! You controlled his whole fucking life!” Gideon t
ried to push me away but I pushed back, pressing Gideon’s back into the steps. My knee was shoved into Gideon’s stomach, pinning him down with my face inches from his. “You fucking murdered Jack and covered it up as a suicide because he was going to leave you.”

  Gideon’s face contorted and I saw my rage reflected in his suddenly bright eyes.

  “No one is going to believe you. The poor, pathetic piece of shit who Jack was having an affair with? Please.” Gideon pressed himself into my knee, sneering. “I was at work when it happened, I have witnesses.”

  “Liar!” I screamed, wrapping my hands around Gideon’s throat. “You killed him and covered it up!” I wanted to smash his head against those marble stairs more than anything.

  Gideon laughed, a wheezing sound that made his neck bulge in my grasp. “The neighbors heard the gunshot. He killed himself, Judah. Accept it.”

  “Um, is everything alright, gentleman?” The priest appeared out of nowhere. Gideon and I both looked at him. Letting go of Gideon, I stood and turned to go. “Don’t make a scene.” I snorted as Gideon’s words floated through my mind again. As I walk

  ed away, the priest quickly shuffled over to Gideon and helped him up. There was mumbled discussion I couldn’t hear as I walked away. Before I left the cemetery, I looked over my shoulder and saw Gideon and the priest still talking. Gideon saw me watching them and smiled. He waved and I retched. So much for the mourning husband bit.

  The truth would come out. Gideon Bellview would get what he deserved. I would make sure of it.

  XII.

  Jack’s grave became my new Helena’s. Without a job, without a lover, without a purpose, I had nothing better to do than sit on the marble steps and drink. Each day I would arrive when the cemetery gates opened and make the solemn walk to Jack’s resting place, pouring some of my whiskey from my flask out next to the mausoleum. I spoke with his ghost frequently. All the conversations I wish we had. All the things we still had yet to do. Planning for a future that would never come. I told him about all the apartments I was looking at and where. I was even looking at adopting a cat, looking particularly at black cats that I knew Jack would have loved. I showed him the ring I never had a chance to give him. The crunch of the gravel on the aptly named Cemetery Drive was becoming an all too familiar sound. It was often the only sound I heard every evening as I left, escorted by the groundskeeper.