The Undertaker

by Brown, William

  “I don't feel guilty.”

  “Oh, yes you do.” She leaned closer and kissed me gently on the cheek. “You feel guilty about a lot of things you have no reason to feel guilty about. That's one of the many subjects you and I need to talk about. Now shut up and watch the end of the movie.”

  After the movie, I had her drive back to the train station. That gave me a chance to look over the Amtrak schedule and routes. “Some of the trains have private compartments,” I said. “It would be great if we could get one all the way to Boston.”

  “Like Jack Lemmon and Marilyn Monroe in “Some Like It Hot?” But that's in black-and-white, so I doubt you ever saw it.”

  “I did so. But the Amtrak compartments are a lot bigger now, like a small room. Maybe we could get one of those.”

  “Yeah? You and me, alone in a small room. I can't wait.”

  “Would you stop that! This is hard enough for me as it is.”

  “Yeah, I'll bet it is.”

  I looked over at her and glared.

  “All right, I'll behave. I promise.”

  “Seems to me, you said that before,” I reminded her. “But if we get stuck sitting in an open coach, we'll have to bail out in the morning, maybe a couple of times, and try something else. So we really want a compartment.” I looked at the schedule and ran my finger down the chart. “Wow. It'll run us almost $1,200.” I dug in my pockets and counted out what was left of the Sheriff's Coffee Fund and Louie Panozzo's envelope. “We have enough, but it will take us down to maybe $500 in cash. That's okay, if I can get some help in Boston.”

  “I've got another idea.” Sandy said as she dug into a pocket in the shoulder bag and pulled out an American Express Gold Card with the name “La Magnifique” embossed on the front. “I forgot all about this. Old Man Fantozzi gave it to me so I could handle CODs and drop offs at Fed Ex, stuff like that. It's in the store's name, not mine, and it has a $5,000 line of credit. Nobody knows about it except Fantozzi.”

  “You're sure?

  “He won't even see a bill until the end of the month. I know the charge card confirmation number and codes by heart, so I can call the credit card company and find out if anybody put a hold on the number before I use it. I can even get the charge pre-approved.”

  “You sure about that?”

  “No, but if I hear anything funky, I'll hang up and we can use the cash. So what's to lose?” There was a pay phone in the foyer of the restaurant. While I paid, she called American Express. It only took a couple of minutes, but when she came back, she was smiling and waving her Gold Card. “Like I thought, nobody knows about this card.”

  We left and drove back downtown. I found a city parking garage four blocks away near two big department stores. I picked the middle level and backed it into a dark spot next to a big SUV. It was perfect. No one would even know the Chevy was there. It was after 11:00 PM by the time we walked back to Union Station. I hung around a rack of Amtrak maps, while Sandy went to the ticket counters. She returned five minutes later holding two ticket folders in her hand.

  “Any problems?”

  “Nope. The train is only half full. I got one of the bedroom compartments, like it showed in your brochure, all the way to Boston. But I still can't believe it costs eleven-hundred and eighty-six dollars.”

  “Le Magnifique can dock your pay.”

  “My pay? That's a joke. They'll have to fight with my landlord, the IRS, and Dombrowski's Funeral Home on Montrose if they want what's left.”

  “Dombrowski's Funeral Home?”

  “Eddie even stiffed me for the funeral. I told them they could dig the little shit back up and flush him down the toilet for all I cared. Instead, they sent in the lawyers.”

  The train didn't leave for two hours, but there was no sense trying to leave the station. The waiting room was exposed, but everything downtown was closed by then and we'd be even more visible out on the street. I looked around and picked a heavy wooden bench in the rear corner. I sat with my eyes on the door and she lay on the bench with her head in my lap, staring up at me, saying nothing. That in itself was remarkable, but I knew I couldn't take it for very long.

  After about fifteen minutes of awkward silence, I finally got up enough nerve to say what I had wanted to say for two days. “I need to tell you something.”

  “I've heard that one before, Talbott. If you tell me you're gay, I swear, I'll kill you right here and now.” I laid one of my fingers across her lips. That was the only way I ever found so far to shut her up, then or now. Then I put my hand over her eyes so she couldn't look at me.

  “What are you doing?” she mumbled.

  “Please be quiet. I can't talk to you while you're looking at me like that, or when you keep interrupting me. In fact, I can't talk to you at all, and that's part of my problem.”

  “That is ridiculous.” She ran her tongue up my finger and kissed it.

  “Stop that!”

  “Oops, I forgot.” She giggled. “Sor-ry.”

  “And be quiet. It's not ridiculous. I'm always afraid of saying the wrong thing to you, and all you ever do is crack jokes and say or do something suggestive. I'm having a real problem with that, Sandy.”

  She didn't say anything at first. “And you don't have a clue, do you?”

  “A clue? Don't say it's because I'm in love with you. We barely know each other. And don't say it's because I'm an awkward computer geek who can't handle a real woman like you... God knows that's probably true, but I've known plenty of women. You're hardly the first. I talk to women. I was married to a woman. But you, I can't talk to.”

  Her answer came very matter-of-factly. “It's because you're terrified of me,”

  “More jokes, see what I mean?”

  “It's not a joke, Peter. You may know plenty of women, and you may talk to plenty of women, and I know you were married to a truly wonderful woman who I know you loved very, very deeply. But how many women have you been with since Terri died?”

  I looked at her for a moment, realizing this conversation was spinning dangerously out of control. “Been with?” I asked. “You mean slept with?

  “Not really. How many have you let touch you? How many have you let inside those walls you've put up, and let help you?”

  “None,” I finally answered, my voice barely above a whisper. “Not since Terri. No, the truth is, for a long time before Terri.”

  “Because you feel guilty. Because I make you feel guilty, and that's a big, big wall that none of us mere mortals can ever hope to climb over.”

  “What I'm feeling, it has nothing to do with you. Well, it does, but…”

  “Women can read you like a book, Peter. If you look at one of us, or think about one of us, or think about physical contact or any kind of intimacy, or, god-forbid, think of having sex with one of us, you have a panic attack. You think you're being disloyal.”

  I couldn't say anything, because somehow, in two days, this elf had me nailed.

  I bet I've gotten closer to you than anyone, but you've made Terri an impossible act for me or any woman to follow.” Even with my hand over her eyes, I could feel tears in the palm of my hand.

  “Oh, don't do that,” I groaned, feeling even worse as I wiped away the big crocodile tears running down her cheeks. “That's not fair.”

  “I'm not going to apologize this time. I can't help it,” she sputtered. “I told you I was a sap for stuff like this. Well, the fact is, Peter Talbott, you can't talk to me because you are afraid of what it might mean if you let me get close. And you are right. All I do is crack jokes, try to get you in he sack, and cry, because I'm just as terrified of you.”

  “Why would you be terrified of me?”

  “Are you kidding? That kind of love? That kind of loyalty? I know you think I'm a silly little girl who doesn't come close to measuring up to what you need or what you had. And I know we don't know each other very well, but I know everything I will ever need to know about you. I knew it that back in Chicago at my aunt's, mayb
e before that. So at least give me a chance. Guys like you come along maybe once in a million years and I'm petrified that I'm going to blow this thing with you.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Where Glenn Frey meets the lower bunk…

  The Amtrak train came twenty minutes late. Our car was the near the rear and we walked quickly to the gate and got on board. An elderly black porter met us in the passageway; his nametag read “Phillip.” He opened the door of our compartment with a big smile as he handed me two keys, telling me the restaurant car opened at 6:00 AM.

  “Thank you, Phillip.” I steered him aside. “My wife and I are on our honeymoon and we are absolutely exhausted,” I whispered quietly to him. “In the morning, maybe you can bring us some food from the dining car.”

  “It would be my great pleasure, sir,” he smiled. “There's a menu on the table inside. If you check off what you want and slide it out under the door, I'll take care of everything.”

  “Thanks. But, I have another problem, too. My wife's brother's with the FBI and he's a real joker. He and a couple of our other friends love to pull pranks.” I handed him a folded one-hundred dollar bill. “That's so you won't tell anyone that you saw us, or saw anybody that looks like us. Now, he's clever. He'll probably flash a badge and growl and bluster, and tell you we're wanted for something, but you never saw us, okay? Because I have another hundred in my pocket if we make it to Boston undisturbed.”

  “Yes, sir!” Phillip said as he reached up and switched the placard on the door from Occupied to Vacant. “And don't you worry, Mister… Smith. I shall see to it personally that no one bothers you or your wife. Now, ya'll have a good night.”

  I stepped inside and locked the door behind me.

  “That was really sneaky, Talbott,” Sandy said. She was no more than two feet away from me, which was about as far apart as we were likely to get for quite a while.

  I looked around. “My bedroom closet in California was bigger than this.” The entire compartment was only 6’ 6” by 7’ 6”, with a couch along one wall and a pull-down bunk above it. Both had been made up for the night. There was also a small armchair and a fold-down table with a big window above it. There was a smaller window by the upper bunk and a tiny restroom by the door that contained a toilet, a sink, and a shower.

  “All the comforts of home,” Sandy said as she pulled down the shades.

  No, I thought, all the comforts of a closet. And I'm about to spend the entire night in here with you, just the two of us, when I was uncomfortable being alone with you in your aunt's much larger apartment last night. Thank God for bunk beds.

  We sat side-by-side on the lower bunk for the next ten, very awkward minutes, waiting for the train to leave. “I don't know about you,” I said, “but I'm exhausted.”

  “I'll flip you for the lower,” she said, patting the bunk.

  “No way.” I sprawled out on my back. “I'm too damned tired to climb.”

  Finally, the train shuddered and began to move. It slowly gathered speed and pulled out of the station and we began to relax.

  “Okay. I'm going to take a shower and wash my hair,” Sandy announced as she stood up in front of me. “But you and I need to get a couple of things straight.” She pulled her new blue top over her head and stood in front of me in her bra, which wasn't much more than a very thin strip of form-fitting, silk. “I usually sleep in the nude, but I promised you I'd behave. I'm not going to sleep in my new clothes either, so that only leaves the bra and panties, okay?” She looked down at me, waiting for me to say something, but I couldn't. “Besides, by the time you and I reach Boston tomorrow night, there won't be much we haven't seen or bumped into, no matter what we wear or don't wear.”

  “I guess you're right,” I said.

  “Good, because I don't want to upset you again.”

  “You aren't upsetting me.”

  “No? Well that's good to hear.” She was watching my eyes as she let the skirt-shorts drop to the floor and she stood there in her panties. There wasn't very much to them either, and a thin smile crossed her lips as she knew I was lying.

  “I assume you'll keep your shorts on,” she added. “I don't think I could stand the excitement.” With that, she turned, went into the shower, and closed the door. I stripped down to my shorts and turned out the light. I reached down to the end of the bed and raised the window shade half-way up so I could see outside. There was a thin, quarter-moon in the sky, and thin clouds racing by. I slipped under the sheet and soon heard the water running.

  Twenty minutes later, the shower door opened and Sandy walked past me. There were three foot holds on the end wall. She scampered into the upper bunk without saying a word. I didn't either, but neither could I fall asleep. I lay on my back with my eyes closed. Every few minutes, she would flip noisily from one side to the other, fluff the pillow, pull the blanket up, then push it down, and then flip back over again. This went on for another twenty minutes.

  “Pe-ter,” I finally heard a little-girl voice call down to me. I opened my eyes and saw her face looking over the side of the bunk at me. “Can I come down there? Just to sleep. Please? I really, really promise I'll behave, but I hate it up here and I don't want to be alone tonight. Just let me be next to you, like in the movie theater, please?”

  The bunk was only three feet wide. I never said yes, but as I shifted back against the wall, she was out of her bunk, down in mine, and under the sheet before I could say no.

  She pressed her bare back up against me and pulled my arm over her. “Thank you,” she said. “Good night.” She yawned and the next thing I heard were soft, sleep sounds.

  I raised my head and looked at her. I couldn't believe it, but she really was asleep. Lying there in the faint moonlight, I thought she was one of the most beautiful things I had ever seen – childlike, yet all woman. Me? I was afraid to move. Lying next to each other like that, we had a lot of skin touching and I could feel the firm contours of her body pressed against me. I could feel her soft breathing. I could smell her hair right under my nose, and a hint of perfume. This was the closest I had come to girl smells in a long, long time and I realized how much I missed them. Behaving? God, I really wished she wasn't.

  In the hospital, toward the end, Terri and I had talked about this. “I love you, Peter, but when I'm gone, you've got to move on,” Terri said. “Promise me you'll find someone.”

  “I promise,” I humored her, but I had no idea then what that would mean.

  “I know you Peter Talbott. You weren't meant to be alone. You have too much to give and you must find someone to give it to. Now promise me. If you don't, I'm going to haunt you.” That was our joke then. Now, I wasn't so sure.

  My mind flashed back to a happier night, when Terri slept next to me on the beach. We had made love and there was nothing covering us but the moonlight. It all came flooding back – the two of us running barefoot through the sand, the tall palms, the patio of the little house, the smell of the red and green bougainvillea bushes, and soft sound of the surf rolling onto the sand. In the distance, I heard a radio playing the Eagles' “Hotel California.” You can check out any time you like, but you never can leave. Glenn Fry was more right than he would ever know.

  I touched Sandy's hair, ever so lightly, and I touched her cheek with the back of my hand. She didn't wake, but her head moved ever so slightly and I thought I saw a faint smile on her lips. I looked out through the window and I knew Terri was up there, watching us.

  “She's lovely, Peter,” Terri told me. “She's smart and she's funny.”

  “Like you,” I whispered. “Lovely, smart, and funny, but you were taller.”

  “Yes, Peter, I was taller. But she needs you now, and I do not need you any longer, my love. She does, every bit as much as you need her. My time is over now, and she's so full of life. You need to open yourself up and love her, as you loved me.”

  I knew she was right, but could I let her go that easily? Could I? I pulled my hand away and closed my eye
s.

  When I woke, the first pink light of dawn was streaming in under the shade. I was squeezed back against the wall and Sandy was lying on her side facing me, her head propped up on an elbow, her eyes only inches away from mine, wide open, staring at me. I had seen enough of her moods by now to know something was wrong.

  “What time is it?” I asked

  “About 6:00.”

  “What's the matter?”

  “Nothing,” she answered woodenly. I gave her a look and she knew that was not going to be enough. Laying next me like this, I could feel the tension in her and see it in her eyes. She was like a rubber band stretched to its limit and about to snap. “All right,” she finally said, you were talking in your sleep. You said Terri's name a couple of times… No, you said it more than a couple of times.”

  “Me? I never talk in my sleep.”

  “Well, last night you did.” I could tell she was choosing her words very carefully now. “I know I shouldn't ask you this. I know I should be a big girl and let it run its course, but I can't. I need to know about Terri. I need for you to tell me about her.”

  “Tell you about Terri?” I smiled.

  “I may never get this chance again, Peter. I need to know what I'm up against.” She laid a hand on my chest. “I need to know if there's enough room in there for me too.”

  She rolled over, pressed her back up against me, and pulled my arm over hers again. “Okay, I'm not looking at you,” she said. “My eyes are closed, I'll shut up. Now, tell me all her, and about you. Then I'll tell you about me. Yesterday you said we didn't know much about each other. Well, by the time we get off this train we will, and maybe we can figure out what we're going to do with each other, okay?”

  This moment had terrified for the past two days; no, for the past year. Now that it had come, the anxiety, the tension, and all the guilt were gone. Suddenly, I didn't mind her asking and I didn't feel awkward telling her about Terri, either. In fact, there were many things I wanted to tell Sandy now.