Funeral with a View

by Schiariti, Matt

  All the signs were there. They were always there and I never paid them any mind. Cat’s melancholy looks that showed up less and less as time passed, but never went away. Bill’s hesitancy when asked to be the godfather. So many insignificant things that added up to so much more now that old secrets had been revealed. Was it any wonder Catherine was overly protective of Celeste around Bill after she was born? Or how vehemently Bill told me to keep my mouth shut about the Sandy incident? He wasn’t looking out for me. He was covering his own ass. He’d suspected he was the father. They both did.

  Catherine had gotten out of the chair and sidled close to me as I fought the storm in my head, approaching like someone would a live wire. Appropriate, because I was a bundle of raw nerves and fury.

  I help up my hand. “Stop. Don’t come any closer. I don’t want you near me.”

  “Ricky, I swear to God I didn’t know,” she pleaded, stopping in her tracks.

  “Swear to God all you want. I doubt He’s listening.”

  “We had that fight before you left. You remember. Angela had just dumped Bill. We were both in a bad place. He called, came over. He told me you two had had a fight, too.”

  “I bet he told you a lot of things that night, and vice versa.”

  “I’m trying to explain. Please, calm down.”

  “How am I supposed to do that?”

  “It was a mistake, Rick. Bill and I both knew it. I stopped it before it went any further.”

  I laughed in her face. “Before it went any further? Is that a joke? Tell me you didn’t just say something so impossibly stupid.”

  “I don’t know,” she said, frustrated. “We opened a bottle of wine. I was upset, he was upset. We got too close, and …”

  “And you fucked him!”

  “Do you want to hear me say it? Would it make you happy to hear the words come out of my mouth? Yes! I had sex with him. Does that make you feel better?”

  “Nothing you can possibly say would make me feel better right now.” Men are odd creatures. When faced with something hurtful, we can’t help delving deeper. We pick at an open wound until it grows and festers. That idiot male gene was the catalyst for my next question. “Was it any good? He blow your mind?” I didn’t want to know, but I had to know.

  “No,” she said with conviction, shaking her head. “It was wrong. Awful.”

  “There’s that, at least.”

  “When we realized what we were doing, we stopped. I swear that’s the truth, Rick.”

  “Oh, now you’re all about the truth? Tell me something, since we’ve discovered this newfound honesty. Were you that desperate to get pregnant that you had to resort to sleeping with my best friend?”

  Her eyes narrowed. “It wasn’t like that.”

  “No? Then what was it like?”

  “We didn’t mean for it to happen. It just did. Bill was down, I was down. You checked out on me. I had nobody to talk to—”

  “That’s bullshit. You shut me out way before I even left for that trip.”

  “—he came over and we lost control.” Cat brushed the back of her hand along her cheek, cutting a tear’s trail in half. “And with all the Sandy stuff going on …”

  “What Sandy stuff?”

  “What was I supposed to think, Rick? Working late with Sandy, texting with Sandy, having lunch with Sandy. It was all her, all the time. I felt like an afterthought.”

  “We’re back to this again? Seriously? Don’t put this on me, Catherine. Don’t you dare put this all on me.”

  “I know you said nothing happened, but I wasn’t always so sure.”

  “God dammit. God dammit!” Blind with rage, I swept everything from the kitchen table. Printer paper flew. Celeste’s file came apart, each component drifting to the ground. “How many times do I have to tell you, Cat? Nothing happened with Sandy.”

  But that was a lie, wasn’t it? My skin crawled. I felt something awful stir. The sensation had long been dormant, but it was coming to the surface. Anti-Ricky, the dark, selfish side of me that hadn’t been out to play in over five years wanted out of his cage.

  I unlocked the door.

  “Actually, that’s not true,” I said. “Sandy came on to me at the conference.”

  Catherine went still. “What?”

  “Sandy came on to me at the conference,” I repeated slowly, glad to have it off my chest now more than ever.

  She recoiled at my confession, and although I’m ashamed to admit it now, her reaction made me feel good. “You … You screwed her?”

  “No. But I could have. I could have banged her right on the floor of my room, but I turned her down …for you. Who’s the asshole now?”

  Cat backed away from me, shaking her head. “I should have known. I knew she wanted you, but I never thought you’d actually do anything with her.”

  “Spare me the righteous indignation.” My raised voice echoed in the silent house. “You give birth to my best friend’s kid, keep it a secret for years, then have the balls to get upset about a kiss?” I could have left it at that. Should have left it at that. Anti-Ricky had other ideas. He took control of my face, turning it into a sneer. “And what a kiss it was. Makes me wonder what else she’s good at.”

  The smack caught me by surprise. Cat’s open palm sent fiery needles across my cheek.

  “Oh my God,” she said, more to herself than me. She reached out, but I brushed her hand aside.

  “Don’t bother. Save your concern for someone who actually cares.”

  “Ricky, I … I can’t believe I did that.”

  “Oh yeah? I still can’t believe you slept with my best friend.”

  “It’s not like you minded the first time,” she blurted, and quickly covered her mouth. “Oh, Ricky. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it. Jesus, Ricky, I didn’t mean that.”

  Her apology fell on deaf ears. “At least I didn’t end up raising his kid for five fucking years the last time.” I pulled at my hair. “Talk about synchronicity. We’ve come full circle, haven’t we? We’re right back where we started. No, I take that back. We’re worse off now than we ever were.”

  Whatever Catherine was gearing up to say next, I’ll never know.

  “Mommy? Why are you and Daddy yelling?”

  Celeste was in the kitchen doorway, eyes heavy with sleep. Her pigtails were disheveled, and in her hands, clutched tightly, was the ever present Pooh Bear.

  “Shit.” We were so busy arguing, I’d forgotten about her.

  “Um, hey.” Catherine hurried over to the frightened girl and scooped her up. “Daddy and I were just having a little … discussion. Did we wake you up?”

  “Uh-huh. I thought I was having a bad dream.”

  You’re not the only one, kid.

  “Here, Pookie Bear. Let’s get you back to bed.”

  I stalked past them to the front door.

  “Daddy? Where you going? Mommy, where’s Daddy going?”

  “Ricky, please,” Catherine called. “Let’s talk this out.”

  “There’s nothing to talk about, Cat. Not now, not anymore.”

  Catherine covered Celeste’s ear as she balanced the little one on her hip. Her next words were a whisper.

  “Don’t do this, Rick. Don’t go. I know you’re hurt, but please, don’t leave like this.”

  “Hurt? You don’t know the meaning of the word.” Without looking back, I stepped onto the porch. “Be good for your mother, Celeste.”

  “Daddy? Daddy!”

  Celeste’s pure, innocent need broke what little of my shattered heart was left, but I had to get out of there. I could no longer be in that house.

  Painful though it was, I walked out without so much as a glance over my shoulder.

  CHAPTER 66

  I pounded on the door, fresh waves of pain radiating through my hand. It hurt like hell, but I didn’t care. I didn’t care about anything other than giving into my anger. Anti-Ricky was in control. I was merely along for the ride.

  “What’s goi
ng on out there?”

  Several doors down, a short, bald man, peered at me through dirty glasses. It was the same person who’d given me the stink eye the last time I assaulted Bill’s door.

  Déjà vu all over again.

  “Do you have any idea what time it is?” he said as if nothing like this could ever happen in his perfect little world.

  “What the shit are you looking at?” I barked. “Do I look like I care what time it is?”

  He backed into his apartment. “Hey, buddy. Calm down, okay? I don’t wanna have to call the cops.”

  “Do whatever you have to do.” I resumed knocking as the man melted into his condo and shut the door.

  “What the … It’s nearly ten. Whoever it is out there, you’re in for a severe ass kicking.”

  The door flew open. Bill looked directly at me, teeth bared and jaw clenched. His hair stood on end and he was dressed in nothing but boxers.

  “Rick? What the hell is wrong with you?”

  My fist connected with his lantern jaw, sending him sprawling into the condo. He staggered, tripped, and landed firmly on his ass.

  “Dammit.” My hand was on fire. I clutched it with my left and stepped over Bill, kicking the door closed behind me. Screw that neighbor. Let him call the cops.

  “Jesus Christ.” Bill stood up and grabbed his jaw. “I’m going to fuck you—”

  “Fuck me? Like you fucked my wife?” That stopped him dead in his tracks. “Well, I see you at least know what I’m talking about, don’t you, buddy?”

  “Bill?” Angela walked out of the bedroom, wrapped in a white towel that barely covered her nudity.

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” I said. “Was I interrupting something, Bill? Had I known you were entertaining, I’d have called ahead.” While I had no problem with Angela, I felt elated that I’d interrupted Bill’s Friday night boning activities.

  “Is it true?” she asked him, her high voice a combination of concern, annoyance, and uncertainty. Her knuckles were white from clutching the towel around her chest. “Is it, Rick? Bill … and Cat?”

  “Maybe you should go,” Bill said, rubbing his jaw where my fist had landed.

  “No. I deserve an answer.”

  “You heard the lady,” I said. “She wants an answer. What’s it going to be, Bill? Do you have one for her? I’m interested in hearing it myself.”

  Bill glared at me as he took Angela’s shoulders in his hands. She trembled, but her look was defiant, as if daring him to lie.

  “Angela, please. You shouldn’t be here for this. It doesn’t concern you.”

  “If it concerns you it concerns me.”

  “Listen. I’ll explain it to you later, okay? I’ll call you, I promise. But right now you should get your things and go. Isn’t that right, Rick?”

  I shrugged. “I don’t give a damn either way, Bill.”

  After a moment’s deliberation, Angela nodded and retreated to the bedroom. Bill and I locked eyes in a Mexican standoff while she gathered her things. Several minutes later she reappeared, dressed but disheveled. Dark trails of mascara scored her cheeks.

  I stood to the side as he led her to the door, rubbing her back and whispering in her ear. She nodded, but was clearly dazed and confused as to what to do. If Bill hadn’t walked her to the door, I doubt she would have done so on her own.

  “It’s best that you leave, Angie,” he said, hugging her in front of the threshold.

  The display enraged Anti-Ricky. He writhed inside me, sickened by seeing Bill get off scot free while my life was completely shattered. A sentence skimmed through my mind, one that had been brewing but went unsaid. My darker side grabbed it, tasted it, found it to his liking. He took control of my tongue and the words that came out of my mouth were as shocking to me as they were to everyone else in the room.

  “Yeah, Angela,” I said. “It’s best that you leave. Why would you even want to stay? Now I know why you’re always breaking up with Bill. Who could blame you for not wanting to stick around with a two pump chump like him?”

  Angela gasped.

  Bill’s reaction was more extreme.

  His left hook met my face with the power of a jackhammer. Stars burst in my eyes, and I spun in the air like an ice skater executing a triple axel while in the throes of a grand mal seizure. I collapsed on the ground solidly, face first. Imaginary judges held up score cards, and what deductions they gave me for the technical aspects, I made up for in style points and sticking the landing.

  I lifted my head, shaking away the cobwebs.

  “Bill, no!”

  Angela’s frantic scream earned my attention. I turned in time to see Bill reach for me. He grabbed me by the shoulders, flipped me over, got down on one knee, and clenched his fist. His face was craggy with lines of anger.

  “Stop,” Angela screamed.

  Bill jerked back his arm as she tried to pull him off me. His elbow caught her in the shoulder, and she stumbled and fell. If it weren’t for that, who knew what he’d have done to my face? Hearing her squeal obviously cleared his head. He blinked when he realized what he’d done and ran to her.

  “Jesus, Angie,” he said, kneeling down. “Are you okay? I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

  “I’m fine.” She batted away his attempt to help her up. “Get away from me.”

  “Let me help you.”

  “I said I’m fine!” She stood up and dusted herself off. Her earlier demeanor of confusion and acceptance was gone. Angela was furious. She gathered her things and gripped the doorknob.

  “You don’t understand, Angela,” Bill said, attempting to stand between her and the doorway, but she was resolute. She nudged his considerable mass out of the way.

  “I understand completely, Bill. You’re not who I thought you were.”

  From my vantage point on the floor, I watched her peer over her shoulder then disappear down the breezeway.

  “Angela, please,” Bill pleaded.

  “We’re over, Bill. Have a nice life.”

  Bill closed the door and leaned his head against it. “We just got back together.”

  “Think I give a shit, Bill?” I said, and crawled to the recliner, using it to get to my feet. My eye was swollen. Bill had a mean left.

  “We just got back together and you ruined it.”

  “You ruined it on your own. You ruined it when you slept with my wife.”

  His shoulders tensed as he faced me. The fire had left his eyes, the fight gone.

  “Don’t deny it,” I said. “I know what happened, so I’ll save you the trouble of insulting my intelligence by even trying.”

  “How?”

  “Cat and I had a fascinating conversation tonight.”

  Eventually Bill said, “It’s not like it was planned.”

  “So I heard.”

  “It was an accident.”

  My laugh sounded like a howl. “An accident? You accidentally screwed my wife while I was away on a business trip?”

  “Angela dumped me. Again. You know how much she screws up my head. I was a mess, and you were a total jerkoff when I talked to you. I called Cat and went over to the house.” He pointed an accusatory finger at me. “It was your suggestion. She told me about the second miscarriage. We had a few drinks. Things got … out of hand.”

  “Yeah, yeah. Save it, dickhead. Just save it. I’ve heard this story already.” I paced, throbbing hand pressed to bulging eye. “Take your piss poor excuses and stuff them up your ass.”

  “I’m not trying to make excuses.”

  “No? Could have fooled me. Everything you’ve told me, both of you, sounds like nothing but excuses. Excuses and blame. ‘You weren’t there for me, Rick. You were mean to me, Rick. You wouldn’t put your own life on hold to glue me back together, Rick.’ Blah. Blah. Blah. Why don’t you go find your nuts and tell me the truth for a change, Bill?”

  “What truth?”

  “That you’ve never gotten over Cat. That you’ve been jealous that she chose me over you all this
time. That as soon as you saw a weakness you exploited it and moved in for the kill.”

  “Say what? That’s bullshit, and you know it!”

  He could have said anything to me that that point and I wouldn’t have cared. My dark side reached down deep and found every single insecurity I’d ever had to use as ammunition. “The strip poker night, always hanging around us like a dog waiting for a scrap of food to fall to the floor so you could grab it up, going from one girl to the next with as much thought as you’d give to considering a change of underwear. And Angela. The breakups? Never being able to stay together for more than a few months at a time? I’ve been such an idiot.”

  “Rick, I know saying I’m sorry won’t cut it—”

  “You’ve got that right.”

  “—but none of that’s true. It was a fuck up.”

  “Remember that night in the park? When you begged me to keep my trap shut about me and Sandy?”

  “Yeah,” he sighed. “I remember.”

  “You were guilty, plain and simple. And I never saw it. I thought you were looking out for me, but you were trying to cover up the fact that you’d slept with Cat.” I stopped pacing. I was so, so tired. “All these years I’ve put up with your shit. I was nothing but good to you. And you stabbed me in the fucking back.”

  “Rick, come on, man. Do you know how shitty I’ve felt all this time, walking around with this on my conscience?”

  “She’s not mine.”

  “What?” Bill’s head canted to the side. “Who’s not yours?”

  “Celeste, you fuck,” I yelled, pointing a bruised finger. “She’s not my daughter. She’s yours.”

  His jaw went slack, his eyes opened wide. In a daze, Bill maneuvered to the recliner and fell into it.

  “You’re kidding,” he whispered, head in hands. “You have to be. No way that’s true. No way.”

  “Do I look like I’m kidding?” I bore down on him, inches away from his slumped, still body. “For five years, five years, I’ve been raising her like my own, only to find out through blind luck that the daughter I thought was mine is my supposed best friend’s.”

  “Oh my God oh my God oh my God.” He repeated the phrase as if he were mentally disturbed, rocking back and forth. Part of me was enraged to the point of nausea. The other part, Anti-Ricky, savored his pained reaction. “No. You’re lying to me. Have to be lying to me.”