by Tom Larsen
“Go tell them,” he points over Harry’s shoulder. It takes a few seconds to see them. Deer, in assorted shapes and sizes bunched in the shade at the edge of the yard.
“Jesus!” Harry counts half a dozen. “What are they doing?”
“That’s a matter of speculation?” Old-timer shakes his head. “Some think they’re plotting something. Looks that way some times.”
Harry sees three more coming out of the trees. “You mean they’re there all the time?”
“Some critters don’t have the brains they were born with,” the old man leans in as if they could hear him. “You ask me, they’re just wondering what the hell they’re supposed to eat!”
CHAPTER TEN
Lena sees her brother-in-law, Mel, beaming like a runway beacon. The Doofus, as Harry calls him, Rita at his side looking ten years older. Lena’s been over this part a thousand times, but as they draw close she feels exits sealing up around her. The phone calls were bad enough. Everyone breaking off in stunned disbelief. Harry dead? Oh no, not Harry!
Ned Brennan was the worst. She could hear him sobbing over the bar buzz. The first two to Alice and Rita and the one to Father Mac were hard enough, but Ned was the killer. By now the news is all over Pennsport.
She sees Rita chew her lower lip. It would be like this in the weeks to come, the questions, the lies, the playing on sympathies. For the first time Lena feels something harden inside. Harry left her to carry the weight, all of it, all the way.
“Oh honey, we’ve been worried sick,” Rita wraps her up while Doofus takes her bags.
“You didn’t both have to come,” Lena forces a smile. “Who’s watching the kids?”
“They’re at Mother’s,” Rita blinks away the tears. “My baby sister just lost her husband. How could I not come?”
They hug and something hard presses to Lena’s heart. Rita bawling, Mel staring at the terminal carpet, strangers shooting looks of concern, the hard part breaking like a tidal wave.
“Oh Lena,” Rita holds her at arm’s length. “How could this happen?”
“Like Harry said, it all ends badly.”
“Minna’s a wreck. Everyone’s a fucking wreck. Mel’s just sick about it.”
“I hope you don’t mind, but I placed an obituary in the Inquirer,” Doofus tells the carpet.
“He composed it himself,” Rita brushes Lena’s collar. “Stayed up half the night.”
“I’m sure Harry would be touched, Mel.”
They start down the concourse and Lena’s sees herself reflected in the window, the Widow Watts coming home.
“You okay, sis?” Rita keeps asking.
“I don’t think it’s hit me yet. Right now I’m just numb.”
“I know sometimes it was hard to tell, but we really thought the world of Harry,” Rita dabs her nose with a hankie. “I just can’t believe we’ll never see him again.”
“Harry loved you too.”
“He did?”
“He said you were the best in-laws a guy ever had.”
“Hear that Mel? He wasn’t serious when he said you couldn’t come over anymore.”
“That was a joke,” Lena assures him.
And the lying begins.
“I’ve packed a few things,” Rita holds up a plastic bag. “Let me stay with you for a while.”
“No, thanks, but I want to be alone for now.”
“I don’t mind, Lena. You might need someone to make arrangements, answer the phone, you know.”
“It’s all been taken care of. We scattered Harry’s ashes the other day.”
Mel and Rita exchange looks.
“I’d better warn you, Minna’s a little upset with the cremation business. It’s the Catholic thing. She’s worried Harry will have trouble in, you know, the hereafter?”
“There was a priest. It was lovely, really. Much nicer than being lowered into a hole.”
“Oh, we have no problem with it. Spare yourself the melodrama, and all.”
“Not to mention the expense,” Mel weighs in.
“But you know mom. A death without a funeral doesn’t sit right.”
“She’ll have to get used to the idea,” Lena tells them. “Harry’s where he wanted to be.”
“Anyway, we were thinking you could have a service or something. It doesn’t have to be religious or anything. Just a gathering of Harry’s friends, you know, in a week or so.”
“I couldn’t go through it right now.”
“You poor thing.”
On the drive in Rita goes on about nothing, Mel speaks when spoken to, ear cocked to the hockey game. Lena tunes them out and draws into herself, staring out at the city skyline. Where is he? What’s he doing? If there’s any justice, Harry’s driving himself crazy. She could be in jail. The cops might be looking for him and he must see by now, this phase of the plan is strictly wing it.
“Lena?” Rita taps her leg.
“I’m sorry, what?”
“Harry’s family? At least you won’t have that to deal with.”
“Oh, I forgot to call his Uncle Ray. Remind me will you Reet?”
“I didn’t know he had an uncle.”
“Ray’s not really related. Harry was the last in-line.”
It isn’t easy thinking of him out there somewhere, not dead. One thing’s for certain, he’d be glad to miss this. Rita rambling, Mel gloomier than ever, a flurry of condolences but everyone adjusting. Before you know it time will pass, things will come up and the space that was Harry will fill in forever.
“Benny and Diane are at Minna’s,” Rita tells her. “They want to see you. Mrs. Levitsky practically lives there now. Oh, and Carol wants you to call.”
“Okay, just stay by me would you?”
“Count on it.”
She could tell them everything. Just blurt it out and end the whole charade. Lena feels the words form on her tongue and it scares the hell out of her. Would it always be that way? Harry insisted once the body was gone there’d be no way to catch them. But Lena’s no fool.
Mel turns in the driveway. Rita’s children gather at the door while Lena’s mother throttles a dishtowel. Mel kills the engine and turns to Lena.
“You sure you can do this?”
“Do I have a choice?”
“Just say the word and we’re outa here.”
“Thanks Mel,” she squeezes his arm. “I’ll be fine.”
Someone herds the kids away and out-steps her mom, shading her eyes against the porch light, smaller and thinner than ever, the spitting image of her own mother when they were growing up. Lena sags for a second then squares her shoulders and steps right up.
“Hello mother,” she bends to kiss her.
“I promised myself I wouldn’t cry,” Minna says without a trace of a tear.
“I’m sorry I didn’t call. It was hectic.
“Hectic, yes. You stay for a while. I’ll make coffee.”
“Sure, okay,” Lena follows her up the steps “The block looks wonderful,”
“Yes. It seems we’ve been ‘discovered’. Live long enough and anything can happen.”
“Are they nice? Your neighbors?”
“Nice?” Minna leads her inside. “I have no idea.”
The house smells of Pine Sol and canned ravioli. There’s a built-in microwave above the stove and a Mr. Coffee on the counter. Other than that the kitchen is unchanged. The same pictures and knick-knacks, the same cabinets, the same table and chairs. A woman turns from the sink as Lena enters and the kids stare in from the living room.
“Lena,” the woman opens her arms and Lena steps into them. “I’ve been praying I wouldn’t miss you. You have my deepest sympathy.”
“How are you, Mrs. Levitsky?”
“Oh, I never change. Sit, I’ll make you a sandwich.”
“Thanks, but no, I’m okay.”
“You have to keep your strength up, Lena” the old woman wags a finger.
“I’ve got some nice boiled ham and olive loaf.”
“Really, I couldn’t eat.
“Bennie? Diane? Come say hello to Aunt Lena,” Rita yells in. There’s the squeak of vinyl and in they shuffle, trailed by Father McIntyre.
Lena smiles at the old prelate. “Still at it, eh Father Mac?”
“My child,” he hugs her to him. “It’s been too long.”
“Hi Aunt Lena,” Diane waves a finger.
“Hi Aunt Lena,” Bennie mumbles.
“My God! You kids are all grown up! Look at you!” Lena hugs and kisses. Grown up alright, Diane must be a size fourteen and Little Doofus is all belly and butt. The kitchen seems suddenly much too crowded.
“We’re sorry about Uncle Harry,” the kids say as one.
“Thanks, you two. Really. It means a lot to me.” What it means is she’ll probably have to see them on a regular basis, something Harry would never put up with. Lena lets them fuss and fidget feeling her self dwindle to family size. She’s grown apart from them over the years, partly because of Harry but mainly due to a lack of interest. She and her mother were never close and Rita’s changed so much Lena hardly recognizes her.
They speak fondly of Harry, some of it genuine, Lena’s sure. The years have changed all of them, but only Harry cancelled his membership. He hadn’t been joking when he put the ban on Mel, and Rita was as close to non grata as you could be and still get a foot in the door. This show of support was just that, a show, sincere in its way, but for all the wrong reasons. For her, not for what she was left with, a hole as big as Harry to fill. Lena had expected to feel shame in the deception, but it feels more like let me out of here. Luckily it’s late and no one objects when Mel announces its time to go.
“I’ll call you tomorrow,” she kisses her mother’s cheek.
“I go to mass at 8.00 p.m. Maybe sometime you can join me.”
“Not yet, Minna. Right now I’m not speaking to Supreme Beings.”
“You shouldn’t be alone at a time like this. I know it doesn’t mean that much to you, but a mother worries.”
“I know. I love you moth– . . . mom.”
As he walks her to the car Father Mac covers the bases.
“I know it’s none of my business, but did Harry have a chance to make his confession?”
“I’m afraid not, Father. Harry wasn’t big on religion.”
He pats her hand in a pastorly way. “I wouldn’t worry too much. He may be a while in Purgatory, but there was goodness in Harry. I must admit he was a favorite of mine.”
“Say a prayer for him will you, Mac? Wherever he is I’m sure he can use it.”
“You can count on it, Lena. Did I tell you the sisters have started a novena? Sister Muriel took it pretty hard.”
This one cuts deep. Every Catholic kid from Tasker to Tree Street owed a debt to Sister Muriel, When Gerry broke his nose in a playground fight Muriel carried him all the way to Mount Sinai. The old woman came to both Lena’s weddings and saw Harry’s mom once a week before she passed. They don’t make them like Muriel anymore. When Lena thought about having to lie, she hadn’t thought about Sister M.
“Tell me something Father. Say you did something wrong and you were truly sorry, but there was no way you could fix it. Can you ever get over something like that? In your head, I mean.”
“There aren’t too many things that can’t be fixed, Lena. At least in the eyes of God.”
“But say there was. Could you ever be yourself again?”
The old priest turns her to him. “The human spirit is tougher than most people think. Look at your mother. When your father died she could have caved in completely. But look at her now, Grandma Minna.”
“But she’s a rock. The bad things only make her stronger.”
“Don’t burden yourself with guilt, my dear. It won’t help Harry and it can only hurt you.”
***
The house looks the same but different, flatter somehow, the bricks a shade lighter. Streetlight is mirrored in the bedroom window, something she never noticed before. Lena closes the car door as softly as she can, but before She’s halfway down the block the outside lights are popping on. Then its doors swinging open and neighbors tumbling out, phones beeping and kids bunched at the windows. Aw, Jesus.
“We couldn’t believe it when we heard,” Sally, next door in robe and slippers. “We thought Ned had fallen off the wagon.”
“You okay, Lena?” Mary Perkins shoulders in.
“I’m alright. Just tired.”
“Somebody take her bags,” Fireman Jack barks from his stoop.
“Lena?” a voice calls over the blather.
She turns to Ned in his grungy apron. Ned’s never been much to look at, but Lena’s never seen him like this, unshaven, red-eyed, lower teeth missing.
“You look awful, Ned.”
“I’m so sorry, honey,” his eyes well up. “Harry Watts was the best man I ever knew.”
“Thanks. You were always a good friend to him.”
“You need anything you let me know, right?”
“I will Ned.”
“Anything Lena, I’m serious.”
“Bless you Ned,” she kisses the top of his greasy head then turns to the crowd. “Thank you all. I know this has been a shock, and I’ll always love you for being here for me. I just want you to know that Harry always considered this the best block in the city. And if we know one thing it’s that Harry was rarely wrong.”
“The freakin’ best,” someone bellows from a window.
“Harry rules!” some kid pipes up.
Lena smiles bravely. “Now, if it’s okay, I just want to decompress. It’s been a long week.”
“Get some rest, Lena,” Sally leads her to her door. “Duffy will get your trash in the morning. I’ll call you around lunchtime.”
“Thanks Sally, everybody.”
Alone in her own home she feels his presence. The walls close around her, silence hangs like a shroud. Their things arranged just as they left them, mail piled on the foyer floor, the voicemail machine blinking impatience. She stands there taking in shapes and sizes, Harry’s jacket on the coat hook, the dark frame of a picture, his life-size wooden Indian with a fistful of stogies. A wave of sorrow breaks over her and she crumples to the stairs in a sobby heap.
“What have we done?” she groans into the banister post. “It went just like you said, so how come it feels so hopeless? It’s more than you bargained for, isn’t it Harry? And you can’t ever take it back.”
***
Nothing in the Greene County Gazette, the Hudson Mirror, the Albany Post, though it’s probably still too early, or she picked a paper nobody reads. But there are no others, except for a few local rags she’d never track down and even those he checks, standing at the convenience store rack so he won’t have to buy them. School board meetings, police blotter, lots of livestock photos. Nothing from Lena, the answer to every question, the last stop for all trains of thought.
Until this morning, while shaving, like a lightening bolt to the brain. The rich Widow Watts rides off into the sunset. What he’s doing now, pretty much floundering, might be how she leaves it. Now that Lena’s on her own, what does she need Harry for?
This one chilled him. Not that she might, that it would occur to him. But it had and now he keeps going back to it, unconsciously, like teeth grinding. He knows Lena better than he knows himself, but their frame of reference has been scrambled. They’re murderers now, not to be trusted.
Harry drives aimlessly. Something about the country scares him a little. The way the clouds bunch against the hillsides, the unpeopled mass if it. He stops at a joint in Cairo, Lou’s Cork and Crown, empty but for Lou and a plumber working on the bar sink. Two shots of bourbon and the grip of panic loosens, three and Harry hasn’t a care. The idea of Lena pulling a fast one, Jesus, he can take these things to extremes.
“From around here?” Lou wants to know.
“Didn’t think I’d seen you in here before. I got a head for faces.” Lou’s own being pinched and pale to the point of bloodless, see-through hair raked straight back. It’s a type Harry’s known his whole life.
“Tell me something. You get the OTB up here?”
“Place over in Coxsakie. mebbe three miles,” Lou tells him. “You a betting man, are ya?”
“I dabble,” Harry flaps his hands.
“Don’t gamble myself. Not that I don’t have my share of vices. I’m a feller who likes to get something for his money.”
“Amen to that.”
“I mean at least with liquor you get something to drink. Your bettin’ money just disappears into thin air.”
“My bookie, notwithstanding.”
“My sister’s husband, now there’s a man who would wager on anything. Won $300 right here in this taproom betting on the QVC.”
“What’s that?”
Lou looks at him like he must be kidding. “The home shopping network. Hit the price of zircon necklace right on the nose.”
“Some guys have all the luck.”
The plumber pulls something long and hairy from the sink drain. A tangle comes loose and the pipes cough up a soupy mess. Lou steps away as the guy goes up to the elbows in it. Greasy and foul smelling, sewage related. Christ Jesus. There may be worse things than being a plumber, but Harry can’t come up with one.
“Scratch my nose, would you Lou?” Plumber’s eyes cross as he points it at him. “Right there, that’s it.”
Back on the road as the lunch crowd filters in, the mountains and the bourbon working their wonders. Once they’re living up here it will all come together, once the pace changes and they can relax. Just yesterday he passed a trio of log cabins right on the interstate, models for a custom builder, solid and handsome, big front porches. Harry felt a deep and sudden craving for porches. The look of them, so inviting, porches and rocking chairs, there ya go! Buy a piece of land with a view and rock away those golden years.
Which reminds him of a place they rented in Lake Tahoe, back when he still had a hand in the hustle, North Shore in the snow, looking out on the lake and the high Sierras. Harry couldn’t get enough of it. The view was like a living thing, changing every time you looked. For a week they had their meals delivered and never set foot out the door.