by Aiden Bates
“Is the old gang all here?” Greg says.
“Everyone but Alex,” Jeff says.
Greg presses his lips together and closes his eyes hard for a moment—all that slick veneer on the outside, and he’s still the boy Jeff remembers from school underneath it all. Beautiful and graceful, but less like the panther he pretends to be and more like a fawn. Greg looks at Jeff warningly as he takes the last drag off his cigarette and seems to consider putting it out on some part of Jeff just for saying that. He stubs it out in the dirt instead and even picks up the butt and puts it into a mint tin full of other butts he pulls from his bag. He’s got two tins—one still with mints, the other with butts. He pops a mint into his mouth, offers one to Jeff, and stows them both away again. Sweet Bambi works for world-polluting corporations, but he still won’t litter himself. Funny Bambi.
“Come on, Jeff, let’s just live through this thing.”
Jeff takes Greg arm-in-arm, and they escort each other into the church.
Jeff doesn’t listen much to the ceremony, because the church man giving the eulogy never knew Alex, and Alex wasn’t a church-goer anyway, this is just too small a town to get overly secular about dying. Jeff does listen when Greg gets up to take the electric guitar used by the youth pastor to play “Wonderwall” because Alex used to play it in college to stop parties he was sick of—play that sucker twice in a row, droning the lyrics loud, and people relocate away from you. It makes Jeff and the rest of their crew nearly start laughing out loud. Clarkie, and Alex’s cousin, and some of Alex’s former coworkers who were near enough to show for his funeral, probably don’t want to know why they’re giggling so much, probably want them to stop.
Hey—they laugh so that they do not weep.
2. Glenn Hosts the Reception
Glenn used to enjoy having the house that everyone came home to.
He and Kevin started their family just as soon as they could after college. They both worked to earn this house, and when Kevin got promoted to a higher security level, with a raise, they decided they had enough for Glenn to take a pause from work and get pregnant. The only downside to Kevin’s promotion—the bump that gave them everything they were working for, the money and the security and the baby bump and all—is that the job also came with a transfer. It was a tough call to make, but the job was everything, and they loved their house, so they chose to start their family in shifts. Kevin would fly to Dallas every Sunday night or Monday, and return home Thursday night or Friday depending on what his workload was each week. He got paternity leave when their kids were each born, but other than that it’s been a constant trade. It’s made for a very strange family life so far.
The separations make them value their time together, that’s how Glenn paints his silver lining. It makes them stay organized about their time apart—bills get sorted, groceries bought, and appointments filled all while they’re independent, so that when they have their weekends, they truly experience them. Discussions and chores take place through texts and phone calls, and are done by whoever can do them best. Glenn is on for all child transport, shopping, cooking, and doctor’s appointments, while Kevin handles the bills, the service and maintenance calls for the house if he can, and he does the job that makes this all possible. The biggest problem—and Glenn tries his best to not be unappreciative, knowing that he has friends who would do anything for his life—is that sometimes it’s a bit lonely.
That was hard to fathom for Glenn at first. How could he be lonely with his two boys at home with him all day? When they were babies, sure, it was easy to be starved for conversation, but the boys are five and seven now, they’re everywhere thinking and playing and talking up a storm, but yet they are still children. Glenn misses the company and companionship of adults sometimes.
That’s how Alex got invited to stay here in the first place. Glenn and Kevin keep up with their college friends, and when Alex fell on hard times—losing a job he kind of lost on purpose, out of some stubborn principle, the type of which the rest of them had long ago learned to compromise on since college—Glenn suggested Alex come stay with him in Vermont. He suggested it to Kevin first.
Over the phone he said, “Wouldn’t it be nice to have Alex out here, not just some charity thing, and not even in the house, we can sort of hire him to finish the guest house!” Their guest house is a separate garage the last owner used as a horse stable—Kevin and Glenn used the attached garage and didn’t feel the need to own a horse. Why own a horse when there’s a perfectly lovely stable at the Montessori school they practically live behind and send their children to? Why not do something else with that space?
With Kevin only home on the weekends and their family time so valuable to them, the renovations were going slowly. If Alex was willing, he could stay for free room and board and finish the project for them, a favor in exchange for a favor, so no one was a charity case, no one a landlord, and everyone still friends. Kevin agreed—it sounded like the perfect idea at the time—and Glenn was happy he’d have a buddy around again, but Alex wasn’t the same friend he used to be.
He showed up in Brattleboro one weekend with a tired smile and went to sleep for the rest of that day. Kevin and Glenn had prepared a big welcome home feast and ended up only sharing it with the kids. Alex came in for leftovers while they were asleep and didn’t really talk to anyone until he said goodbye to Kevin on Sunday and then came for his work assignment from Glenn on Monday.
“What’s with you these days, Alex? Do you want to talk about what happened at your job?” It made sense to Glenn that Alex wouldn’t want to share with Kevin—they’d been the same major in college, worked in the same industry, government and international technical security, and for that they were once best friends, but … maybe if the job had gone really badly, Alex felt like Kevin wouldn’t understand his troubles. However, he wouldn’t talk to Glenn about it either.
“I just want to work with my hands for a while, do something real. I appreciate this. I think it’ll be good for me.”
Glenn smiled hoping Alex would too, but he just took some designs of Kevin’s and the project’s designated credit card and went to the lumber yard. He worked all day, but didn’t come to dinner at night. It really was like having a lodger and not a friend, and Glenn tried to make peace with that.
He also tried to make peace with Clarkie, the sweet little piece Alex picked up in town. Clarkie was loafing with some cousin of his and on meeting Alex, started loafing with Alex instead. Glenn was disappointed that Alex was choosing to hole up and keep to himself, but he tried to let the guy have his freedom, his space. Glenn doesn’t know if that was the kind thing to do, or if he missed some cry for help window considering how it all ended. Mostly now he’s just sad, and suddenly the landlord of this Clarkie kid, wondering when enough time will pass for it to be appropriate to ask him to leave.
Jeff comes into town first, the same as he used to be, already eyeing Clarkie and telling stories about a date he has in New Hampshire on Sunday, the hound dog. Kevin, of course, is home for the funeral, but the kids are away, staying with their grandmother in Burlington while they clean this up … and Glenn does mean a clean-up, because that’s how it started. Glenn is the one who found the body.
After he took the kids to school, and though the grounds of the school are close by through the woods, it’s too much of a hike for anyone. He drove the kids around the mountain they’re on for school drop-off then went to do some errands in town. Alex knew Glenn would be in town, because he’d asked him if he wanted anything special from the store. Alex said he was all set, and that’s the last Glenn heard of him, but it’s not the last he saw.
Alex came to the main house to die, maybe because there’s no bathtub in the garage. He drew a warm tub and even used some bubble bath, which looked ridiculous with all the blood, mostly white foam on top of the red soup of the tub, like sour cream on tomato bisque, but not really. Not at all, really. The water was still warm but Alex’s fingers weren’t. Glenn tried s
tupidly to check for a pulse, and then his brain lurched to consider mouth-to-mouth, Heimlich? He was prepared to save the kids from accidents, but not for something like this. He called an ambulance, but he could have called the coroner—that ambulance was nothing but a taxi to the medical examiner’s office anyway. And then Glenn was left to clean the tub. Most of the mess was in the tub, but not all of it. He threw out a lot of the things in that bathroom, scoured, and then redecorated it before the kids got home. He told them Alex had an accident in there and died, warned them to be careful when wet and keep hair dryers away from bathtubs and that most accidents happen at home. He let them speculate on their own, and they could ask their other father if they wanted anything more specific than that, because Glenn knew too many specifics to want to talk about it to anyone. Maybe a therapist, maybe someday. Right now Glenn just wants to clean up everything.
Which is exactly the useful role he fills after the funeral, when a majority of the guests come to their home for the reception. Hors d’oeuvres, anyone? Let me refresh your drink, empty this ash tray, refill this cracker bowl, stir the dip. We ran out of clean plates? The hell we did, let me find a stack of the used ones and start washing, no problem. This is a habit Glenn has developed to relax himself—he’s learned to use housework to reach a state of Zen-like transcendence, that way he can keep a clean home and find some peace at the same time when he has a minute away from the kids.
“Hey, Glenn, take a chill pill,” says a voice from the hallway that leads out through a laundry closet to their attached garage. Glenn stops, and it’s Sam he finds, their most famous friend, ducked into the laundry room probably to avoid being asked for autographs from the people who don’t really know him, the people that only knew Alex, and not their whole college crew. Sam is holding out a mint tin full of a lot of assorted pills, probably none of them mints.
“Oh, ho, Mr. Movie Star, got some uppers and downers there? Blues and bennies and Mother’s Little Helpers? You want to go out of this world like Judy and The King?”
“Oh come on, we all want to be Judy a little bit, don’t we?” Sam says, the brush of his mustache twitching with a smile. Glenn joins him in his hideaway but waves away the pills. Glenn wants to drown his sorrows in wine later; he won’t mix pills with that intention.
“How are you holding up, Glenda Goldilocks?” That’s Glenn’s old name from school, the one they used to tease him, because he’s so goody-two-shoes, don’t you know, and he’s got a cloud of golden ringlets for hair.
“Like a brick wall whose cement hasn’t dried yet,” Glenn says, watching his old buddy select a pill and take it with a gulp of wine. How Hollywood can you get? He’s so west coast these days.
“Well, you certainly look strong enough to the rest of us. How are the kids doing?” Glenn and Kevin are the only ones of the old cohort who have kids so far, but the rest of the gang has always tried to stay curious about them.
“They don’t know half of what happened here, I hope, no reason to let rainclouds into their lives just yet.”
“Which bathroom did it happen in?” Sam asks. He’s smirking, he’s trying to make light of one of the heaviest things any of them have had to carry.
“I’m not telling,” Glenn says back in a sing-songy voice. He’s really not telling anyone which bathroom it was, and there are two tubs in this house, so it’s anyone’s guess which Alex chose—only Glenn, Kevin, and the paramedics know for sure. That’s enough people in Glenn’s opinion. He doesn’t want people either avoiding or congregating around one bathroom versus another anyway; they’re about to have a full house for the rest of the weekend, people are going to have to share those spaces.
“Was it bad?” Sam asks. He’s stowed his pills and is tapping his foot now, waiting for his pill to kick in.
“It was a mess, but we cleaned it up.” We being the royal we, of course, we the household, meaning Glenn alone most of the time.
“I wonder why he did it,” Sam says.
Glenn nods. Everyone’s wondering about that.
Most of the guests are local and go home before sundown. Glenn has assigned everyone else a room and circles around making sure everyone’s got everything they need, knows where the extra towels are, and where they can stow their stuff for the weekend. He and Kevin cleared at least one drawer in each kid’s room, Sam in one and Greg in the other, the youngest’s, since he actually likes kids and won’t mind. Clarkie, of course, has gone back to the guest garage; it’s still in a state of transition. Jeff is in the attic room on a trundle bed. It’s a cramped fit, that’s why they’ve been looking forward to the guest house idea, so people can visit in comfort and without invading the kids’ space. Oh well.
Sam is unpacking his script for the next episode of his show he’ll be filming, he’s got to memorize his lines even as he mourns. Greg’s unpacked his briefcase full of work and at least three packs of cigarettes, like he’s afraid he’ll run out in one weekend, though of course it is a rather stressful weekend. Jeff’s got a string of condoms with him. Somebody didn’t get laid enough in college and looks for it everywhere. Jeff made sure to say an extra special goodnight to Clarkie before the kid left, and Glenn knows why for sure. Glenn just rolls his eyes at Jeff’s room for the night and wishes him sweet dreams. Hopefully not so sweet that they’re wet dreams though, yeesh.
Glenn’s finally done everything there is to be done on this heartbreaking day. His guests are put to bed, tomorrow everyone’s agreed to put together a big feast for the group, and they’ll spend the day in discreet pairs before all coming together to eat. Kevin retires to his desk in the den; he’s got some work to file away, his schedule’s a bit off this week with the funeral to plan. Glenn decides it’s time to take a bath. In Alex’s bathroom.
He’s the first one to take a bath after Alex’s last here. He doesn’t suspect any of his guests to be bathing that luxuriously this weekend, and somehow, though he knows it’s silly, he doesn’t want the kids to be the first to take a bath up here after what happened. It’s not like a suicide leaves a residue or anything, at least not more than a psychological one.
Glenn gets in, and he’s not at rest for longer than twenty seconds before he starts to cry. Why did Alex give up on life? What was he feeling knowing this windowless room would be the last thing he’d ever see on this earth? Why didn’t he just come to the main house when Glenn got home and ask him for help? Glenn knows Alex was proud and stubborn. Glenn also knows that even though Kevin and Alex were best friends once, the fact that he quit the industry Kevin still devoted most of his days to would make it difficult to speak to either of them about how he was feeling. After storming out of a job Glenn, Kevin, and their family relies on, maybe a rant wouldn’t land well with them, but would that discomfort really be more painful than dying at thirty-seven? More painful than dragging a razor through one’s wrists? Glenn can’t even think about it without it making his skin crawl. There are tendons and muscles in the wrist, not just skin, fat, and veins, and Alex would have had to cut deep and repeatedly to die fast enough that he couldn’t be saved.
Glenn cries quietly until the water starts getting cold, his tears falling into the water, and then draining away with it. In his mind, Glenn thinks of his tears as the beginning of a spiritual cleansing, helping to start really washing away the haunting scene of death. He’s not happy when he gets dressed and goes to bed, but he does feel lighter than he did before he stepped into the tub, and at last he’s tired enough for a good night’s sleep.
Kevin comes to bed after Glenn has fallen into this deep sleep, so quietly that Glenn does not stir or notice or even turn over in his dreams to cuddle him, as he often did before all this. They haven’t had a moment alone since Kevin’s been home, and they won’t be alone again for at least another week, after their guests are gone and Kevin’s work’s on pause for a few personal days of recuperation. Neither one knows what they will say then, but they each have a sense that their marriage won’t feel quite right for a while. In
some ways, they’re dreading the peace that will come after the flood waters of tears dry up because then the work of rebuilding begins.
3. Sam Decides to Stay
Sam is ready to fly out first thing Monday morning, but he doesn’t want to, he’s just supposed to be back on set ASAP to wrap up the filming of the fifth season of Frank Justice. He doesn’t have the part of Frank, he’s the older cop because he’s over twenty-five, and everyone older than that on TV is someone’s grandfather, apparently. Sam spent his younger years chasing the roles and by the time he finally got one, he was too old for half of them. Senior detective old man Sam, fine. The moment to play Hamlet is gone, you’re Polonius forever now, whatever. The fame and the money helps console him.
He’s up early and finds Kevin in the kitchen making a smoothie in the shortest shorts that aren’t technically just underwear. Sam wolf-whistles at him to say good morning.
Kevin smiles and turns to shake the blender and its contents at Sam. “Want one? Greek yogurt, fresh fruit, Glenn gets what’s in season every week. Protein powder, I’m going for a run.”
“I can see that,” Sam says, accepting a cup of smoothie. Maybe this will help keep the ulcers at bay from all the diet soda and pills Sam’s involved with. If not, at least it’ll do him more good than coffee.
“Come with me on the jog, it’s beautiful out here. I try to keep up my jogs during the week when I’m in Dallas but the air down there is empty, and the dirt’s not exactly scenic, you know?”
“Sure.” Sam has never been to Dallas, but he agrees it’s probably unimpressive compared to New England. He also agrees to go for this run or jog that Kevin’s inviting him on. “If I’m winded before we even reach an incline, no laughing, okay?”