This is kind of funny, he thinks. His body is numb and his mind blurry. He is leaning onto the bar and he laughs slightly, half falling from his stool, laughs at nothing and no one. Everything is funny suddenly, the lights spinning on the dance floor, around him everyone is happy, and there’s Dick Mortimer walking past outside, holding an umbrella high above his head. Billy rushes to the front door and calls him over.
“Hey,” Billy shouts.
“Hi, Billy,” Dick says, smiling out from under his umbrella. “How are you?” He looks up at the sign above the bar.
Billy likes the way Dick says that. Smooth, like ice, like a mirror. It’s all in the way you look at the world, Billy thinks.
“Fine,” Billy slurs. “Just great. Come in and have a drink with me.”
“I don’t know,” Dick says. “I don’t really drink.”
Billy laughs. “You don’t drink?” He claps his hands on Dick’s shoulders and steers him into the bar. “That’s a good one.” Dick’s umbrella jams at the door and the two men wrestle with it outside in the rain.
They finally get the wet umbrella inside the bar and they settle with it into a booth by the window. Dick looks down into the gin and tonic Billy ordered for him. It was Dick’s father’s drink. It seemed appropriate to get one for himself. He swirls the glass. Billy gulps his beer, orders another and a second gin and tonic for Dick.
“No, thanks —” Dick starts.
“Don’t mention it,” Billy says. “My treat.”
Dick sips on his drink and suddenly feels warm inside. He looks at the other drink sitting beside him and he takes off his overcoat. Why is it that gin and tonics smell much better than they taste, he wonders.
“You couldn’t give Thomas a deal on the coffin, could you?” Billy is saying. “How much you get those things for anyway? You must get them for a couple dollars. Can’t you sell them cheaper than that?”
“Casket.”
“What?”
“It’s called a casket in the business. Not coffin.”
“One deal. Not one lousy deal. What kind of a mortician are you?” “Funeral director.”
“What?”
“I’m a funeral director. We don’t use the term ‘mortician’ any more. It’s too depressing.”
Billy laughs.
“That’s funny?” Dick asks.
“What you do is depressing, Dick,” Billy says. “No matter what you call it. You spend your life burying dead people.”
“We cremate too,” Dick says. “Besides, if I gave you a deal on the casket, the word would get out.”
“I don’t really care anyway,” Billy says. “As long as Thomas is paying for everything.”
They look down at their drinks. Before Billy pulled him inside this bar, Dick was walking in the rain with his umbrella, wondering if there was anything else in life that he would rather be doing. He was wondering if running his own funeral business for the rest of his life is going to make him completely happy. Now, sitting in the bar, drinking a gin and tonic, he suddenly thinks that maybe he would rather be a movie star. He would like to make people happy or scared or sad by the expression on his face. He’s tired of the serious mask he wears day in and day out. Dick would also like to be famous. He had a touch of fame when he first expanded the business. On TV, his hand raised to the camera like a preacher, Dick did advertisements for his funeral home. He remembers a man in the mall recognizing him once. And two women buried their husbands at Mortimer’s because of the advertisements. But he would have to be much better looking, have less hair on his back, be thinner. Movie stars make a lot of money. But Dick is doing just fine financially, he doesn’t lack anything that he really wants. And his career does satisfy him. It gives him pleasure to put people to rest, to make people feel their loved ones have been taken care of. He wonders what Billy does. Then he thinks of Hilary and wonders if she has a job and wishes that he had stayed in touch with her after they graduated. Did she graduate or did she drop out? He can’t remember. He does remember being head over heels in love with her for a couple of years. Sipping his drink he thinks that, instead of being a movie star, maybe he’d just like to be married, have a family.
“Where do you work?” Dick asks Billy.
“Photo store. And I’m a security guard.”
“Two jobs.”
Billy nods his head. He drinks his beer. Dick drinks his gin and tonic.
“That must be nice.”
“What?”
“Working in a photo store.”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Developing pictures. Do you get to look at other people’s pictures?”
“Look, I don’t want to talk about it.”
Dick sighs. He drums his fingers on the table. There are people dancing in the corner to pumped-in music. One woman is dancing by herself, swaying her large hips out of beat to the song. “I guess we’ve got the market cornered on caskets, don’t we?”
“Fuck,” says Billy. “Everyone’s got me cornered these days.” “Why do you say that?”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Listen,” Dick says. “Is your sister seeing anyone right now?” Billy laughs. “My sister? Christ, she hardly ever goes out.” “But is she single?”
“Haven’t you seen her? Didn’t you see her the other night?”
Dick drinks. Hilary seemed shy, but she was always shy. She was dressed funny with that old fur coat on, but Dick looks at his clothes and thinks that he isn’t the most fashionable man around. And he does have to admit that she’s awfully thin, but then he’s getting fat so they would make quite a pair.
Dick rubs his eyes. Why is he thinking this?
“You shouldn’t do that,” Billy says. “The germs will get in your eyes. I watched a show the other day all about it. Rubbing your eyes is one of the easiest ways to catch a cold.”
“What?”
“Never mind. I’m just watching TV a lot these days.” Billy looks at his hands. “There are germs everywhere. Millions of them.”
“Don’t you think I know about germs?” Dick says. “I have to wear gloves all day long.”
“Do you worry about it?” Billy asks.
“About what? Wearing gloves?”
“About diseases, germs, AIDS.”
“Yeah, I worry.” Dick looks at his drink. “I have to be careful. Being a funeral director is not all fun and games.” Then Dick laughs. “I know that sounds silly, but my job can be fun.”
“Fun?”
“Or at least exciting. Exploring the inner workings of bodies, watching how quickly the human shell begins to disintegrate. Seeing the grieving process work the same way over and over again.”
“Oh, “ Billy says. “That kind of fun.”
“Well, there’s the occasional funeral mishap. Like the viewing we had where an old woman threw herself on her husband’s casket and the wheels on the frame came unlocked and the woman and her husband rolled across the room into the punch bowl.”
Billy laughs.
Dick smiles. “I could tell you some things.”
“I’m sure you could.”
“Hey,” Billy says. “Do you want to get out of here?”
“And go where? I’m enjoying this. Or do you know another bar that’s better?”
“No, get out. Go outside.”
“It’s raining,” Dick says. “It’s raining quite hard. And my umbrella is small.” Dick is feeling warm with the drinks in his body. Warm and content.
“You won’t melt.”
Dick looks down at himself as if he isn’t quite sure Billy is telling the truth.
“Have you had enough to drink?”
“How much is enough?” Dick’s head feels clear but his body feels heavy.
“Let’s get out of here. Let’s go get a boat and head out on the lake.”
“But it’s late,” Dick says. “It’s November. I have to work tomorrow. And it’s raining and cold. Besides, I don’t have a boa
t. Do you have a boat?”
“I have a boat. What have you got to lose?”
“My six-hundred-dollar suit?”
“Let’s go,” Billy says. “Come on.”
“I don’t know. The label says, ‘Dry clean only.”’
“Fuck the suit. Wear your coat. It’ll keep you dry. Besides, what else do you have to do? Have you got a date? Naked women waiting for you in a hot tub?” Billy laughs. “Come on. There’s nothing waiting for you anywhere else.”
“True.” Billy does make sense. Dick does have naked women at home, he thinks, but they are dead. And besides, Billy’s boat probably has a roof. It’s probably one of those fancy new boats that he sees on the lake all the time. He could sit under the roof and watch the shoreline race by.
Dick follows Billy out into the rain. He struggles to put his coat on. “You really paid six hundred dollars for that suit?”
They stand beside Billy’s car. “I’ll go get my own car,” Dick says. “It’s just over there.” Dick points down the street to where his car sits, dark and lonely, in the funeral home parking lot. Dick knows he is too drunk to drive but he doesn’t care for some reason. Billy doesn’t know he is too drunk to drive and so he drives very slowly and swervingly down the road, heading out towards the small lake on the edge of the suburbs. Dick follows in his own car.
But there is no boat with a cover, there is no speedboat. As a matter of fact, Dick discovers that Billy doesn’t even own a boat. When they get to the lake Billy steals a rowboat that was tied to a footing at the pier. The rain lets up for a minute and Billy convinces Dick to climb in, to live a little, to take a chance now and then. And then they are floating quietly out into the lake and the rain is falling again. Dick’s umbrella is in his car. They are soaked, cold, and very drunk. The boat is carrying water. Billy’s jeans are drenched because he waded into the water up to his knees before he saw the boat tied there, waded out to feel the water on his body. Billy passes Dick a bottle of rum and Dick drinks from it.
“Quiet,” Billy whispers.
“I didn’t say anything.”
“No, I mean it’s quiet out here.”
“Yeah.” Dick’s coat is stuck to his skin. He’s uncomfortable and he has to pee. “I’ve got to take a leak. And it’s freezing out here.You said you owned a boat. How the hell did I let you convince me to get into this thing?”
“No, I didn’t say I owned a boat, I said I could get a boat.”
“No, you said you owned a boat.”
“Well, that’s not what I meant to say.”
“Nice try. I thought this would be a real pleasure cruise. Heat. A roof.”
“At least I thought of bringing something to drink. What did you bring?”
“What did I bring? Jesus, Billy.” Dick sits quietly for a minute. “I’ve really got to piss.”
“So?”
“So, where do I go?” Dick looks around. He sees nothing but black water and a few lights on shore.
“In there.” Billy points down into the blackness.
“I’ll have to stand up. I can’t stand up in a boat.”
“Haven’t you ever pissed off the side of a boat?”
“No,” Dick says. “I’ve never been in a rowboat before. My father was always working. I’ve never even been fishing.” Dick kneels in the boat. He clutches at the sides and the boat tips and rocks a bit. “There’s no way I can stand.” He tries to get up and the boat shakes violently. “Shit.”
“Just steady yourself.”
“We’ll probably die of hypothermia if we fall in. Do you know that?”
“Do you think we’d get a cut rate at your place of work then?” Dick stands. He holds his hands out to balance himself. When he catches his balance he opens his fly.
“Steady,” Billy says.
“Jesus Christ.”
“Balance. It’s all about balance.”
“What’s about balance?”
“Pissing off a boat.”
Dick can’t concentrate because of the swaying of the boat. His coat keeps getting in the way. Billy grabs the gunwales and steadies the boat with his weight. “Balance,” Dick says. He sighs happily. “What else is about balance?”
Billy scratches his head and the boat tips a bit.
“Goddamnit,” Dick shouts. “I’ve pissed on my pants.”
“Keep your voice down. You’ve only pissed on three hundred dollars. What are you complaining about?”
“Very funny, Billy.” Dick kneels in the boat and tries wetting down his pants with water from the lake but the motion almost rocks the boat over and he thinks that he’s washing with water he just pissed in and Billy tells him to sit down and stay still. Billy feels level-headed out on the water. It’s the only place he feels real.
“Chequebooks, I guess.”
“What?”
Billy says,”Chequebooks are about balance. So are teeter-totters.”
“Aren’t you deep,” Dick says. “No wonder we didn’t hang out together in high school.” He looks at his shoes. He’s pissed on those too. He can smell it coming off him. He smells like a bum. He pulls his shoes off and tries to dip them in the water. They’ve moved forward some so he reasons that his piss is behind him.
“Face it,” Billy says. “You were a loser. That’s why we didn’t hang out together.”
Dick wants to say, Who’s the loser now? But he remembers that everyone is a potential customer. “Christ,” Dick says. He loses a shoe. Billy leans over to watch it sink. The boat tips slightly. “Goodbye, shoe,” Billy says. “At least you’ve got another.” Dick’s foot is cold and wet now. “Balancing the good and the bad.”
“What?”
“Balance.”
“And the ugly. Get it.” Billy laughs. “The good, the bad, and the ugly.”
“Jesus.” Dick is suddenly angry. He is trying to say something.
He doesn’t know what. But what he’s trying to say is not funny. “You’re such an idiot.”
“Don’t you ever call me an idiot.” Billy stops laughing.
They are quiet for a minute. The water laps up against the rowboat. The lake is swollen from the rain.
“Look, I’m sorry,” Dick says.
“Forget it.”
“I didn’t mean to call you that. It’s just that I’m wet and I lost my shoe.”
“I said forget it.”
Dick drinks from the rum bottle.
“So Hilary isn’t seeing anyone?” Dick says. He pulls his coat around him.
“Face it, Dick, you’re going after the wrong fish.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“She’s not normal.”
“She’s your sister.”
“That doesn’t mean she’s normal.”
Dick clears his throat. “I can’t believe I lost my shoe. This is an expensive pair. And my coat and suit are wrecked.”
“Serves you right to be wearing nice clothes in a boat in the rain.”
They laugh.
Dick says, “I thought I’d be home by now, back from my walk in the rain with my umbrella. Hey, where is my umbrella?”
Billy shrugs.
“This is crazy,” Dick says. “I think the boat is taking on water. We’re going to sink.”
“Crazy like Hilary,” Billy says.
“Yeah, right.” Dick drinks again. He feels ill. “Do you know when the last time I made love to a woman was?”
“A live woman?” Billy laughs.
Dick pauses. A nauseous feeling comes over him and just as quickly disappears. “Funny, Billy,” he says. “Very funny.”
“No, really, go on.”
“It was when I was in college. Vera Trudle.”
“Trudle?”
“She was in my embalming class. We had to wear suits to school, black suits, and Vera showed up one day with a bright red skirt on. The teacher wouldn’t let her sit through the class.”
“You had to wear suits to school?”
“I remem
ber seeing her in the cafeteria after she got kicked out. I bought her a coffee.”
“You had a cafeteria at your school? What do funeral directors eat for lunch?”
The rain is hitting down hard now
“You’re not thinking of sleeping with my sister, are you?”
Dick swallows rum. He coughs. He wipes the rain out of his eyes. “No, not really.”
Billy rows farther out into the lake.
“She used to pick up rocks on the way home from school every day,” Billy says when he stops to rest.
“Who?” Dick says.
“Hilary. She would carry them home in her pockets, weigh herself down with them.”
“So?”
“She put them all over the living room floor after my mother got sick. She just dumped her boxes out one day. I came over to see if they needed anything and the entire fucking floor was covered in rocks. And now she won’t move them. She likes them there.”
Dick doesn’t say anything.
“The point is,” Billy says, “the point is, Dick, that I think she’s not right in the head.”
“People do funny things, Billy. You don’t have to put her in a hospital for it.”
Billy thinks that if they do put Hilary away, perhaps he can split her third of the house sale with Thomas and come out ahead. He could even buy that boat he’s been pining after. And, of course, he’ll need lots of money for diapers for Sue’s kid. Christ, he has a headache. He puts the oars down and takes the rum from Dick.
“She was always different in school,” Dick says quietly.
Billy snorts.
“Why did your father leave you guys?” Dick asks.
“Who knows,” Billy says. “He just went out one day and never came back.”
“Shit,” Dick says. “Was he fighting with your mother?”
“No,” Billy says. “It was weird. He just left. We never really found out why.” Billy suddenly realizes that he is shaking. “I don’t want to talk about it. I’m freezing.”
“Did he take clothes? Did he pack anything? Was it all planned?” “Look, I said I don’t want to talk about it. It’s none of your goddamn business.”
They are silent.
“Let’s get out of here,” Dick says. “You’re shaking “
What We All Want Page 12