by Lisa Smartt
Dave piped up, “Well, I suggest Shannon and I take our comfort home for the evening. How ‘bout it, Shannon? Ready to soak your feet a while?”
“Sounds good. I shoulda never worn these stupid heels! Carlie, we’ll visit some tomorrow afternoon if Doug agrees to share you. You’re staying till Friday afternoon, right?”
“Yeah. I guess Doug will bring me to the house later. So, leave the light on for me and the door unlocked too unless you think there’s gonna be a lot of crime and mayhem in the neighborhood tonight.”
“Yeah. Mabel’s ol’ Blue might drag a dead squirrel into the yard. That’s about as murderous as it’s gonna get out there on Sandy Hill Road. We’ll see ya later, Carlie.” I knew they’d both hug me before they left. It’s who they are.
Doug’s face looked stressed as he talked to the funeral director and made notes on his I-phone. It must be hard being the only kid. All of it rested squarely on his shoulders. He looked like a man who was up to the challenge. He had taken off his suit coat and rolled up the sleeves on his blue oxford shirt. He needed love, yes. But he didn’t need propping up. He was capable. A few relatives were still gathered around the casket and I realized I had not really looked at Doug’s mom. I stood and walked up quietly. A chubby older woman whose slip was hanging out the back of her black skirt whispered in my ear, “I know you’re Carlie, the girl from Georgia. Everybody’s been talkin bout ya. I’m Doug’s Aunt Charlotte and I jest want ya to know that she was a lot purdier than this when she was alive. Everybody knows that. She was one of those women who never had a hair out of place. Never went out without make-up. A real classy lady, my sister.” She began to sob quietly.
I put my arm around her shoulder. “Mrs. Charlotte, I know she was a wonderful woman. She raised a fine son. And Doug, Doug is blessed with a sweet family to support him right now. I know he appreciates all of you. You’ve done so much for him the last few days.”
In a failed attempt at whispering, Aunt Charlotte spoke into my ear, “I like you, Carlie from Georgia. And I don’t care what Mrs. Mabel and Jolene said…I don’t think you’re too tall for him.”
I hugged her and said quietly, “Thanks, neither do I.”
Doug approached us and said, “Let’s call it a night. Chester, there’s some fried chicken in the break room. I’ve already got tons of food at the house. Ya think you could take that home with you?”
Chester and Mrs. Ida looked like they’d won the lottery.
“Charlene, Sandy Caldwell says her truck is still in the shop. Can you pick her up in time to rehearse the song before everyone gets here?”
“No problem.”
“I want all of you to know, well, I couldn’t have made it these last few days without…” He started wiping his eyes with a Kleenex. “I’ll see all of ya in the mornin’.” I could feel the tears running down my own face. In that moment, I saw a man who had lost both his parents in tragic circumstances. Heart-breaking.
Aunt Charlotte and Uncle Bart re-arranged chairs on their way out. Chester and Ida grabbed the box of chicken and a funeral employee let them take a two-liter of Dr. Pepper and a half-eaten box of graham crackers. Charlene told her two young boys to pick up toys. “I don’t want some old person trippin’ over Darth Vader tomorrow mornin’. That’d be scandalous.” Bro. Dan put his arm around Doug and said, “She was always so proud of you, Doug. And with good reason. Don’t ever doubt that for a moment.”
I walked toward the door but noticed that Doug was standing in front of the casket alone. So I quietly slipped up behind him. “I don’t know what you need right now. Should I walk outside and give you some time alone? Or should I stay with you? I’m fine either way. Just tell me.”
He turned around, eyes red and filled with tears. Without saying a word, he held out his arms and I willingly embraced him. We didn’t speak. He pulled me in so close I thought I would stop breathing. I rubbed his back and laid my head on his shoulder. His hair was wet with sweat. His left arm was around my waist and his right hand was gently touching my hair. When his face touched my right cheek, I felt his tears mix with my own. It was the most intimate I had ever been with a man. Ever. Sure, I kissed Dan a few times despite the garlic breath. Jim Jackson and I kissed my whole freshman year of college. He even groped me on several occasions. Last year I kissed Bill Henley, an old high school friend and my parents’ insurance agent, at the New Year’s Eve party and a few times after that. But I’d never had this. This was something completely different. He finally let go and put his arm around my shoulder and slowly led me to the door. “I’ll miss her, Carlie.”
“I know.”
“Let’s get a limeade.”
“Absolutely.”
Doug said I could leave my car at Sammy’s for the night. He loaded my suitcase and hang-up clothes into his truck and drove to the local Sonic. One of his high school classmates recognized the truck and walked over to share condolences. Billy Caldwell was twenty-eight years old, same as Doug, but he looked forty. Hard livin’.
“I’m real sorry about your mom, Doug. Real sorry. They was good people, your mom and dad. I worked the farm out there a few summers when I was down and out and they was always good to me. Real good. Can’t believe they’re both gone.”
“Thank you, Billy. Thank you. What are you doin’ these days?”
“Nothin’ worth talkin’ ‘bout, Doug. Nothin’ worth talkin’ ‘bout. But hey, who’s the purdy lady?”
“This is Carlie Ann Davidson. She’s from Georgia. Carlie, this is my good friend, Billy. We’ve known each other our whole lives.”
“Nice to meet you, Carlie. Is she a relative or your girlfriend?”
Yeah. Now there’s a question. Thanks for asking that one, Billy Caldwell, and maybe you don’t really look forty after all. Come to think of it, you don’t look a day over twenty-five.
“She’s my girlfriend.”
“Yeah, well congratulations, Doug. You deserve a nice lady like your mama. Your mama, she could make some cornbread like I ain’t never had in my life. Good people, yeah, good people.”
“Thank you, Billy. We’ve always thought a lot of you too.”
Billy spoke softly, “See ya, Buddy” and he walked back to an old green Lincoln Town Car that was covered with Bondo. It had seen better days, just like Billy.
I liked the gentle way Doug treated Billy. The way he said, “This is my good friend, Billy.” A lot of people in Sharon would have been embarrassed to say that Billy Caldwell was their good friend. But Doug…Doug was gracious like that. He was different. And I was Doug’s girlfriend. I liked that even better.
When we pulled into his mom’s driveway later, everything looked exactly as he had described. An old white farmhouse in immaculate condition. Beautiful. I could have drawn a picture of it. We sat in the truck and drank the limeades. He loosened his tie. We laughed about the obsessive cleaning tendencies he inherited from his mom. I confessed the dried up toothpaste in my bathroom sink. We talked about the autopsy results. Drug overdose, pure and simple. He asked about my parents. I made fun of my over-achieving brothers. The truck clock read 12:18.
“Carlie, it’s getting late and it’s been a long day. I’ll show you to your room. I’ll come by in the morning at 9:30. Sleep as long as you can. But let me warn you, if Aunt Clarice gets up before you it’s all over. She thinks she’s talking but it’s more like screaming. You’ll hear about her bathroom habits, the bitter coffee, and whether or not her neighbor will remember to feed Fluffy three times a day and give him his blood pressure meds.”
“I’ve been warned.”
Doug came around and opened the truck door. He took my hand as though I needed help. I didn’t. I think he knew that. We quietly opened the kitchen door and he pointed toward the hall. He walked into the first door on the right, turned on the light, and whispered, “Gosh, this brings back so many memories. Shannon changed the sheets today so you should be good to go. The bathroom is right next door.”
The room was f
lawless. It looked like a boy’s room, yes. But it was immaculate. Red and blue plaid bedspread. Bright blue walls. Baseball trophies everywhere. “You never told me about your illustrious baseball career.”
Smiling, “Yeah, I could have been a pro, but I wanted to do bank loans.”
“No tellin’ how many great pro athletes we’ve lost to the rural banking business.”
We both laughed but tried to be quiet.
“I better go. Rest well, Carlie. I’ll see you in the morning. Thanks again for coming all this way.” He hugged me one more time. We both lingered and he touched my hair again.
I touched the back of his head and said, “I’m so glad I came.” I knew he wanted to kiss me. He knew I wanted to kiss him. But I knew he wouldn’t. It’s like when I knew that Jim Jackson would try to grope me after he’d had too many drinks at the Chi-O house. I knew Doug Jameson wouldn’t kiss me while we were surrounded by his baseball trophies in his parents’ house. I would have bet all the money I had ($167.29) that he wouldn’t. Sadly, I would have won.
November 4
Doug was right. I woke to the sound of Aunt Clarice. “Shannon, where’s the sugar bowl? Somebody’s done something with the sugar bowl!”
The clock by the bed said 7:09. I was happy Aunt Clarice woke me up. I hated to be in a rush in the morning. The sun was coming through the window and shining right at a plaque that read, “Doug Jameson, Academic All-Star Student of the year, Sharon Middle School. 1995.” He was an all-star alright. He had the trophies to prove it.
I walked toward the coffee pot and saw all three of the other house guests at the table drinking coffee and eating monkey bread. “Good Morning, Everyone.”
Shannon spoke with a cringe, “Oh Carlie, I hope we didn’t wake you!” She looked apologetic as if to say, “I know my screaming mother woke the dead, but I’ll just say ‘we’ as though I was part of the sinister plan.”
“Oh no. I wanted to get up. I hate to rush around in the mornings. Did all of you sleep well?”
This was Aunt Clarice’s golden opportunity. “I slept horribly. God knows how my sister got a moment’s rest on that horrible hard bed. Like sleepin’ on a flat rock. Plus, there were dogs barkin’ and an owl hootin’. I got a Charley Horse in my right leg at about 2:30. Couldn’t even get to my dang pain pills ‘cause I was in so much pain.”
“I’m so sorry, Mrs. Clarice.”
Dave was too positive to play Aunt Clarice’s negative game. “Looks like it’s gonna be a beautiful day. It’s supposed to be sunny and high sixties this mornin’. That always makes a funeral a little bit easier.”
“Yeah. Will she be buried near here?”
Aunt Clarice was quick on the draw, “She’ll be buried out at the cemetery behind Klondike Methodist Church where all James’ people are buried. It’s about five miles from the funeral home, kinda out in the country. All our people are buried out at Cottage Grove Community Cemetery. I don’t know where Doug has a plot. Probably over at Klondike.”
“Probably so. I’m gonna hop in the shower if no one needs this downstairs bathroom.” I didn’t particularly love talkin’ about Doug’s burial plot, especially at this time of the mornin’, and when I still hadn’t even kissed him.
By 9:20 I was dressed and sitting at the kitchen table, watching for him. It reminded me of that scene in a movie where the girl is lookin’ out the window longingly, waiting for the man to ride up on a white horse or a navy blue F-150. Aunt Clarice was on the phone explaining loudly why Fluffy’s food had to be cut with a plastic knife which kinda killed the movie atmosphere. Dave and Shannon were still getting ready.
He pulled in the drive at 9:28, stopping to check his hair in the rearview mirror before he got out of the truck. I knew he didn’t care what Chester or Dave or Aunt Clarice thought about his hair. That moment was for me. He wore a solid dark suit, white shirt, gray striped tie. He looked rested and handsome and his hair seemed particularly curly. Had he put something on it? I could almost smell that Irish delicious smell on his body. The kitchen door kinda stuck and made a screeching sound when he opened it. I stood up and said a simple, “Good morning.” Doug stared for a moment. As my high school cousin would say, “He was checkin’ me out.”
“Good morning, Carlie. You look beautiful. Really beautiful.” He reached out to hug me and I was right about the smell. Delicious. Better than the smell of a cinnamon roll. I touched his hair again and hoped he didn’t mind.
“Doug, would you like a cup of coffee or anything from this bountiful spread? There are even some deviled eggs in the refrigerator.”
“Wow, the deviled eggs are tempting but seeing as how it’s 9:30, I better not hit ‘em too early in the day.”
Some people would think it inappropriate to try to make Doug laugh on the day of his mother’s funeral. But I knew it was a gift to him. The sadness and tears would come soon enough. There had to be moments of joy and happiness or he wouldn’t survive.
“So, how does all this work today, Doug?”
“Visitation will be from 10 to 11. Funeral will be at 11. Then to the cemetery for burial. The ladies of the church are making lunch for us in the church basement. Then it’s over.”
“I’m sorry. I know none of this will be easy.”
“Thanks. If you’re ready, let’s go. Are Dave and Shannon comin’ now?”
“They said to tell you they’ll be there by 10.”
“Okay.”
We pulled into the funeral home at 9:45 and the parking lot was already full. He sighed.
“Doug, this community… they really love you. I mean, they loved your mom and dad, but they’re here today for you. You’ve captured their hearts….well, you and your mom’s deviled eggs.”
He laughed out loud. “Yeah, if it weren’t for those dad blame eggs, visitation could have been done in thirty minutes.”
He came around and opened the truck door on my side and just stood there for a moment looking at me. I laid my hand on his shoulder and said, “Let me help you. Tell me what I need to do.”
“Just stay with me today.”
“Doug, it’s not that I mind but I’m not sure ‘a friend from Georgia’ should really be on the front row with the relatives. We haven’t known each other that long. I mean, this is just our second date. And no offense, but we’re at your mom’s funeral.
“Yeah, I’m a real romantic, aren’t I? Technically though, this is our fifth date. Don’t cross me on this, Carlie. I’ve given it a lot of thought. I took you to Cracker Barrel for fried eggs and biscuits for the first date. Then there was that late afternoon latte at Starbucks which counts as number two. Third date we ate lasagna and Dave told you I was a neat freak…which you already knew… and about how I never let my food touch. Fourth date you stood with me in a funeral line while Aunt Clarice yelled about your height and Aunt Charlotte blew her nose into Uncle Bart’s shirt sleeve. Okay. The real question is not, ‘Will you stay with me?’ The real question is, ‘Why are you still here?’”
“Good point, Doug. Come to think of it, unless my car was stolen last night in front of Sammy’s Sandwich Emporium, I should make a run for it.”
He reached out and grabbed me by both arms. “Just try.”
“Don’t underestimate me. I’m faster than you think.” I leaned into him and he helped me out of the truck and held me for a minute.
While his arms were still wrapped around me he whispered, “You’re right, Carlie. We hardly know each other. But I want to know you better. Does that count for anything?”
“Good enough.”
We walked into the back entrance of the funeral home. The funeral director was there looking very sympathetic. I wondered if he ever got tired of looking sympathetic, if he were ever standing there thinking about football scores or burritos from Taco Bell. I’m sure he was.
The room was already three-fourths full. Doug stood by the casket for a moment and wiped his eyes. I felt cautious about showing any physical affection as half the town was
staring at us. I just stood next to him quietly. An older woman wearing a purple double knit suit and carrying a red handbag approached him and held his hand while they both stared at his mom’s lifeless body.
“Doug, your mama told me somethin’ one time down at the electric company. I came in to pay my bill and we were jest chit chattin’. I asked about how you were doin’, whether you liked your job at the bank. She said, ‘Karen, Doug’s doing so well at the bank. He’s good with people, y’know. God gave us a gift with that one. James and I always said that we didn’t deserve him.’” The lady in purple kissed his cheek. It was sweet.
Doug started crying in a way I hadn’t seen yet, deeper, in more pain. There was finality to all of it today. I began to cry too and took a seat on the front row. Eventually the woman walked back to her seat and he sat down next to me. Most of the people in the room had already gone through visitation last night so he might get a bit of a break this morning. His eyes were still red and he just stared down at the red carpet. He gently picked up my right hand and held it with both of his. This wasn’t exactly how I had pictured it. The first time Doug held my hand we were looking at his mama’s dead body.
THE FUNERAL
I liked Brother Dan. He didn’t speak in preacher talk. He spoke like Dave, in real conversational style. He talked about God’s love and about how Susan always brought lasagna to church potlucks and how much everyone loved her. He introduced Aunt Charlotte who told about the time she and Susan nearly fell out of the back of Uncle Charlie’s chicken truck. And how chicken poo got all over Susan’s hair and how she declared at that moment that she would never ever live on a farm…and how five years later she fell in love with James and spent the rest of her life on one. That’s when Aunt Charlotte started crying and took her seat. Then came the shock. Brother Dan smiled at Doug and said, “Susan’s beloved son, Doug, will now share a few words.” I had no idea. Doug stood quickly, straightened the back of his suit coat, and approached the front but didn’t stand behind the podium. With no notes in hand, and without one sound coming from the over-crowded room, he looked as though he were comfortable being there.
