Pallbearing

by Michael Melgaard

  Jonathan looked up at the funeral director. “It’s stuck,” he explained.

  The funeral director went behind Jonathan and reached his arms around either side of him to grab the strap. They pulled together and the coffin shifted slightly, but the strap came free. Jonathan quickly rolled it up.

  He blushed and stepped back into the crowd and tried to make himself small. The woman running things smiled at him before she started talking again. He wondered what other surprise pallbearer duties were left. There was still that pile of dirt. Did they expect him to fill in the grave? He didn’t see any shovels, but they could be in the van or a nearby shed. Was the funeral director on his way to get them? Jonathan turned his head slightly. The funeral director was standing just outside the circle of mourners. No shovels in sight.

  The book club lady was doing something again. She and a few of the others walked through the crowd handing out flowers. They were tulips; Jonathan ended up with four of them. The book club lady was explaining that they had been Alana’s favourite flower. That was news to him; it had never occurred to him that Alana would have a favourite flower.

  There was more talking, about how this was not a goodbye and Alana living on in memory. They shared a long moment of silence. Then the woman in charge of the ceremony said a few more words about the community of support. She ended by telling everyone to take all the time they needed.

  A few people from Alana’s work dropped their flowers into the grave and Jonathan understood they weren’t for keeping. Others stepped forward, some bowed their heads before adding their flowers, others turned right back into the crowd after. Jonathan waited for an appropriate moment and then tossed his flowers into the hole. There was a clunking noise. He peered into the grave and saw his magic marker lying with the flowers on top of the plain wooden coffin covered with well wishes. He stepped back.

  And then he turned into the crowd. Anne and Laura both hugged him and John shook his hand again. Jonathan kept moving past them and through the others until he was out of the crowd and crossing the open field. He walked to the edge of the creek and breathed in deeply. He looked down and saw that the creek bank was, indeed, reinforced against erosion — concrete slabs held in place with wire mesh. Jonathan wondered how long that sort of thing would hold, and then he let himself cry.

  Fun Centre

  [ 1 ]

  Charles walked around to the back of the giant ice cream cone and ducked inside its tiny door. He turned on the register and pulled the float out of the tin can he kept hidden in one of the empty ice cream pails. Then he slid the serving window open and sat down with his book.

  Greg yelled at him from the go-kart track across the parking lot. Charles waved out the window and went back to reading. When he looked up, Greg was standing at the window. He said, “Those fuckers say I’m greasing up their shitter. They don’t want me using their can no more.” Charles marked his place with a finger. “They want me to get porta potties to put by the track. You know how fucking much that will cost?” Charles made a noise that he hoped sounded like commiseration. “They treat me like a fucking second-class citizen. We all work together here to help each other, man. My karts bring in business for their fucking putt-putt. It’s fucking synergy. Fuck man, this is the shits.” Greg looked up at the menu and said, “Give me an ice cream sandwich, eh?”

  “I keep telling you, you can pay cost, but I can’t give it to you for free. It’s a buck fifty.”

  “I don’t take nothing for free, man. I told you, you can use the karts anytime.”

  “I own a car. If I feel like driving, I will do it in my car, that I am the owner of.”

  “Fuck you, man.” Greg fished some change out of his pockets and slapped it down on the counter. He walked back across the parking lot, giving the finger to the Fun Centre on his way by. Charles put the change in the till and went back to his book.

  [ 2 ]

  Charles watched a man who looked to be pushing a hundred finish the par-three course and pull a cart full of clubs to the back of his car. He left them there and came over to Charles’s window. He said, “You weren’t open earlier.”

  “Oh, no, sorry. There’s not much call for ice cream before noon.”

  “I would have bought one. It’s a shame you don’t open earlier.”

  “Can I get you one now?”

  “It’s too late for ice cream.”

  “That’s funny. Most people like to have their ice cream after lunch.”

  “I like to have something sweet before lunch.”

  They stared at each other.

  “I’d like a hot dog now.”

  “Sorry, I just have ice cream.”

  “I know that. I’m going to go get a hot dog in town.”

  Charles watched the old guy shuffle back to his car and struggle to get his golf bag into the trunk. He rolled it in, eventually, and then stretched up to close the trunk. He got in the car and nothing happened for a long time. Charles was about to go check on him when the engine fired up. The car made a beeping noise as it backed up.

  [ 3 ]

  A car pulled into the parking lot and a woman got out and set up some balloons on one of Charles’s picnic tables. Other cars and a van came in and then a dozen adults and twice as many kids were running around. Someone took out a cooler and a bunch of two-litre bottles of soda. One of the moms said, “Oh fuck,” and looked around. She walked up to Charles’s window. “You got any plastic cups?”

  “No, but I sell soda.”

  “We got our own, we just need cups.”

  “Sorry, can’t help you.”

  She went back to Charles’s tables and said, “He didn’t have none.” One of the dads drove off and came back a few minutes later with cups. Then the kids split up. Some went to the putt-putt, the others to the go-karts. They left all their coolers and food on the tables. When they were done, they came back and had sandwiches out of the cooler and chips and more soda and then a cake with candles and sparklers. One of the kids asked for ice cream.

  A dad approached the window. “Hey, give me a couple drumsticks and a couple those ice cream sandwiches.” Charles pulled them out of the freezer and rang it up. The guy said, “Jesus. Three bucks each?” Charles shrugged and the guy said, “You can do better than that. They’re like a buck at the corner store.”

  “Sorry, that’s the price.”

  “But I’m buying four.”

  Charles held out his hands. The guy paid and went back to the tables. Charles heard him say “rip-off,” and his wife said something that ended with “asshole.” They all piled back into their cars and took off. Charles ducked out the back door and threw their garbage into the trash can.

  [ 4 ]

  Greg came over. “You see that one lady with the birthday party?”

  “Probably.”

  “She was into me. I seen her at the bar last week. She recognized me.”

  “That’s great.”

  “I should have got her number.”

  “I thought you didn’t date women with kids?”

  “Who said anything about dating?”

  “Right. So, how’re you going to see her again?”

  “I’ll look her up in the phone book. She told me her name was Linda, and one of the kids called her Mrs. McAlister.”

  “Mrs.?”

  “Fuck, they keep their husband’s name sometimes.”

  “But you don’t know?”

  “If a guy picks up, I’ll hang up.”

  “Solid plan.”

  “Fuck you, man.”

  [ 5 ]

  It got busy. Charles tucked his book under the register and scooped ice cream. Greg was busy digging go-karts out of the tire walls, and a line had formed at the first hole of the putt-putt. Charles ran out of Rocky Road. He locked up the till and ran over to the Fun Centre basement where he kept his extra stock
in a couple of deep freezes. The owner’s son, Randy, was down there with his buddy, who also worked at the Fun Centre. They were both high. Randy said, “Hey, Ice Cream Man.”

  Charles asked him what was up. Before Randy could answer, his dad shouted for them to get the fuck back to work from the top of the stairs. Randy laughed, but his buddy at least looked like he thought he should do something. Then Randy’s dad was down there and told them to get the fuck out on the driving range and pick up the balls. Randy made a joke about picking up his balls that was a little too loud. His dad heard and started laying into them about fucking around and how he had a good mind to whoop both of them. The shouting got quieter as they got farther away, but the last thing Charles heard was “. . . end up like the ice cream guy.” Charles slammed the deep freeze and headed back across the parking lot.

  [ 6 ]

  “Hey Charles, you still work here?”

  “Yeah, well, I bought it a few years ago, so I’m the owner now . . .”

  “That’s cool. You’re like your own boss. Must make money?”

  “I do okay. Can I get you something . . .” And then it came to him: “Chet?”

  “Yeah, I’ll take three double cones, one peppermint, one chocolate, and my little boy wants that tiger stripe shit.”

  Charles bent down into the freezer and scooped out the ice cream. He handed the first cone over the counter. Chet passed it down to his kid and asked, “So, you still playing in those bands?”

  “Here and there.”

  “Cool. Doing any records?”

  “We record sometimes.”

  “You ever on the radio or anything?”

  “We’re not really a commercial band.”

  “Oh, cool. Like, indie stuff?”

  “Sure. I didn’t know you had a kid.”

  “Yeah, this is Chad. Three years old now. Thank the ice cream man, Chad.”

  Chad stared up at Charles. Charles smiled and waved. Chet said “just a second” and went down to the picnic table where a large woman swung a purse over her belly and fished around for money.

  “So, who’s the wife?” Charles asked when he got back.

  “What do you mean? That’s Barb.”

  “That’s Barb?”

  “Hey, fuck you man.”

  “No, I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just I haven’t seen her in a while.”

  “Yeah, well you’re probably pulling in prime pussy with your fucking ice cream shack.”

  “I didn’t mean —”

  Chet grabbed Chad’s arm and pulled him away. Charles watched them get into their car and leave. He went back to his book.

  [ 7 ]

  Charles heard banging behind the ice cream shack. He opened the little back door and saw a kid on the putt-putt course hitting one of the fibreglass animals, a deer, with a club. Charles walked up to the fence that separated the parking lot from the course. He said, “You probably shouldn’t be doing that.” The kid looked up. He was red in the face, freckled, and sweaty. He swung his club around and let it go. It landed in one of the flower beds. The kid walked away.

  [ 8 ]

  Things slowed down around six. Charles sat at one of his picnic tables and ate a sandwich while he read. A group of teenage girls were playing putt-putt. Charles watched over the top of his book as one of them bent down to pull a ball out of the hole. She stood up and made eye contact with Charles; he looked back at the page. Charles heard some whispering and they all started giggling. He glanced up when they were at the next hole and one of them was crouched down with her back to him. Another one of them leaned over her golf club stretching and smiled when she saw that he was watching. He nodded and tried to go back to his book. They went around the course like that, stretching and bending and smiling. One of them waved and he thought maybe one of them blew him a kiss. They giggled a lot.

  When they went into the Fun Centre to return their putters, Charles went around back and ducked into his ice cream cone. Two of the girls came up to the window. One of them asked what sort of ice cream he had.

  “The usual, Rocky Road, mint, vanilla . . .”

  “How much?”

  “Two dollars a scoop.”

  She stuck a hand in her pocket. Her fingers wiggled where the pocket stuck out the bottom of her cut-offs. She said, “I only have a dollar. Do you think maybe that would be okay?”

  Charles guessed it could be.

  The other girl asked Charles his name. She said she really wanted some ice cream, Charles, but didn’t have any money. He handed them both a cone and then watched them walk back to the others. They all started giggling again and he heard one of them say, “You slut,” to the one in the short-shorts.

  They got in their car and left. Across the parking lot, Greg grabbed his crotch and shouted something that Charles didn’t try to make out.

  [ 9 ]

  It was getting late and a bunch of guys in their late teens were drinking beer on one of Charles’s picnic tables. They’d finished up a round of putt-putt and tried to go on the go-karts. Greg hadn’t let them, and now they were sitting around talking loudly about what a “faggot skid” the go-kart guy was. After a bit, Charles said, “Come on guys, there’s kids around.”

  They all looked at him. One of them said, “You wish there were kids around.” They laughed and high-fived.

  Charles shook his head and went back to his book. The guy who had talked came up to the window. He wasn’t wearing a shirt and was surprisingly ripped. He said, “So, did you go to ice cream school to get this job.”

  Charles put down his book. “It was ice cream university, and I did a post-grad.”

  “Is that why you think you can tell me what to do, ice cream fag?”

  “That’s Dr. Ice Cream Fag. And, look, there’s like nine cameras in this parking lot recording what’s going on. I presume one of you is going to drive, and I’m almost positive none of you are sober. On top of which, you’re maybe seventeen at the oldest. It would take me literally three seconds to ruin your night, so you should just get the fuck out of here.”

  The kid started to look around for the cameras. Charles picked up his phone and made as if he were dialing. The kid said, “You fucking rat.”

  Charles smiled and said into the phone, “Hello, the police?” The kid told his friends they needed to get the fuck out of there. They peeled out of the parking lot. Charles waved goodbye.

  [ 10 ]

  Charles waited for the last family to finish at the putt-putt. When they left without buying anything, he closed up. He printed out the day’s receipts, noted the amounts in his book, and put a deposit in an envelope. The float went back into the tin and then into one of the empty ice cream pails. He slid the window shut and ducked out the back door and padlocked it behind him.

  He got into his van. Greg was working on one of his karts and stood up and shouted for Charles to hold on a second. Charles waved out the window and pulled out of the parking lot and onto the highway.

  A Pregnancy

  Three months into the pregnancy, two weeks after Ryan and Julie found out they were having twins and a week before they planned to let everyone know, they were told that one of the fetuses was not viable. Julie asked the doctor what that meant. He said the organs were not forming correctly — the baby, a girl, would not make it to term.

  He went on, explaining to Ryan that there was a chance the non-viable fetus’s continued development might affect the other twin — a boy who appeared to be developing without complication. Though, the doctor was quick to add, they still needed to perform more tests to be sure. He said it might become necessary to terminate the non-viable fetus to protect the other — Julie’s shoulder tensed under Ryan’s hand when the doctor said “terminate” — and that they would have to monitor the situation closely. He told them their pregnancy was now considered high-risk. They would need to come for a
checkup every week, and if there was any abdominal pain, no matter how slight, they were to head straight to the emergency. He asked if they had any questions.

  Julie waited until they were in the car before she said, “That horrible doctor didn’t even look at me.” She said she hated that he called her little baby a fetus, and that he obviously didn’t care at all about anyone’s feelings. She asked why someone like that would even become a doctor. Ryan told her it was normal for doctors to be like that; they were trained to keep their distance. Julie asked why he was defending that horrible man and Ryan said he wasn’t defending him, just explaining, and then they both stopped talking.

  Julie went straight to the bathroom when they got home. She got in the shower and turned her face into the water and watched it flow down her chest and over her still-flat belly and thought about the two lives inside it and how one of them was not viable. Later, Ryan let himself in. Julie sat on the edge of the tub. He sat beside her and put an arm over her shoulder and pulled her close. She turned her face into his chest and said, “Our little girl is going to die.”

  They went to see the doctor every week. Julie kept quiet while the doctor went over test results with Ryan and told them the same things about being careful and taking care of themselves. She was quiet on the rides home and quiet all the days and nights in between. Ryan didn’t know what else to do, so he ended up being quiet beside her. They went to work and watched TV and ate their meals and sometimes Julie would talk about it on the phone with her mom, but mostly she kept to herself. They tried to go shopping for baby things once, but at the store Julie said she couldn’t do it; she couldn’t not buy clothes for the girl who was still alive but wouldn’t be. They went back home.