Dust to Dust

by Karina Halle

  Perry made a tsking sound beside me, her mouth turned down, but I couldn’t help it. “What, it’s true,” I protested. “He cared more than anyone. So I can give him a nickname in death. It doesn’t mean he wasn’t a heck of a guy, a heck of a friend. He was all of those and a bunch of other things that I can’t even begin to be.”

  And now I started to choke up. I sucked in my breath, trying not to blink as the hammer chipped away at my chest. “He fought for so long to just be normal, normal like me. I wish I could have told him that normal didn’t exist. He was fighting for something that wasn’t real. But in that fight he found me as a friend, he found Perry as a friend, he found his girlfriend, Rose. He found her once and he found her again. How fucking lucky is that? Well, that’s Max for you. And I know there was so much more to him. We just saw the tip of the iceberg and now the whole thing has gone to shit.”

  I sighed, hard. “I just wish he didn’t have to do that for me. But I’m fucking grateful that he did. So fucking grateful.” I squeezed Perry’s hand then took a fistful of petals from the flowers she was holding and ripped them off the stem, throwing them into the river. Half of them floated in the breeze, landing at our feet. “Here’s to you big guy. Please, feel free to haunt me anytime.”

  Ada and her mother said “Amen,” like it was the Lord’s prayer, while Perry was staring at me, perplexed, like it was the weirdest eulogy she’d ever heard. Or maybe it was the way I beheaded half of the bouquet.

  She stepped up the bank next, gathering the few nice stems left in one hand. “Maximus, I don’t have much to say. I…I don’t even know what to say. But, you came into my life for a reason and I couldn’t be more grateful.”

  “Don’t say grateful,” I said out of the side of my mouth, my hands clasped in front of me. “I just used grateful. Pick a different word.”

  She looked at me aghast. “This isn’t funny, Dex,” she said.

  I shot her a sad smile. “I know it’s not. But I need it to be. Just for now, just to get through it.”

  She shook her head, not understanding, and went on. “So I wanted to thank you, Maximus, for being a friend. For being that guy I wanted to call when everything went wrong. For showing up and helping me. For looking out for Dex. Sometimes I was never quite sure about you but I was always sure about you and Dex. You were friends, even when you weren’t, and I want to thank you for that. I hope wherever you are, it’s a warm place.” She sniffed and wiped away a tear. “I hope that it’s nice and that you’ll one day be with Rose again. I hope I’ll see you too.”

  She closed her eyes and a wash of tears spilled down her cheeks as she threw her flowers in the river. I put my arm around her, holding her close to me.

  Ada took the flowers next and gave half to her mother.

  “Maximus,” she said. “I’m gonna miss you. I never thought I’d find a ginger with a soul, but you proved that wrong.” She kissed her fingers and then pressed it into the sky. “Peace out, ginger bro.”

  She threw her flowers in and so did Perry’s mom, who said a simple, “thank you” and that was that. Daniel, of course, was standing wide-stance, arms folded across his belly. The interesting thing was he was starting to sweat a little. There was a tinge of “oh shit, maybe these bitches weren’t tripping” on his brow, of course phrased in a theologian way.

  But ever the master of the house and of the smooth moves, he covered it up and said, “Well, now that it’s all done, who is up for a visit to MOMA and then some lunch?”

  Yes, because nothing tops off a funeral like looking at abstract art.

  Perry’s mother put her arm around Ada and said, “I think that would be a good idea. Good way to keep busy, right Ada?”

  Ada just shrugged. They could have suggested an all-expenses paid shopping spree and she still would have looked the same.

  “What about you?” Daniel asked.

  I looked to Perry, who was red-eyed and dabbing her cute little nose with tissue. “Um,” I said, “I think we’ll pass on that.”

  “Wait,” Perry said, turning to them, “can we go eat first? Then you guys can go to MOMA.”

  “What are you going to do?” Ada asked, like she wanted an invite.

  Actually I had no idea what Perry had in mind, but I was suddenly hit by a crazy idea, brought on by all the sorrow and shit that was swirling around us.

  She shrugged. “I think we just want to hang low,” she said. “But if we all ate first, it would give us a chance to talk.” She said that as she stared at her mom, sending signals that looked to be invisible but probably weren’t. Interestingly, I tried to drop in on her thoughts but I couldn’t access them. Perry was learning how to aim and hide at the same time. There had to be a sexual analogy somewhere in there.

  Her mom nodded, hearing her loud and clear. “Of course. That sounds good.”

  Daniel let out a puff of air, annoyed that no one was really listening to him anymore. Good luck steering your brood of loons around, I wanted to say to him. Especially as I would soon be included in that brood.

  Poor guy.

  ***

  We had lunch at the café that was made famous in When Harry Met Sally. I couldn’t remember the film all that well but Perry’s mom did a minor – and yet embarrassing – re-enactment of the “I’ll have what she’s having” scene and all that it involved. Thankfully the place had a fuckton of pie. Pie was awesome.

  At some point during our meal, Perry and her mom both simultaneously excused themselves and went outside. Again, she must have been sending her telepathic messages that I couldn’t pick up on. I knew what they were talking about, though. Perry was coming clean about switching her mother’s pills on her.

  I didn’t know how I felt about that. I understand why Perry did it, but since I had been on the receiving end of that at one point, I also sympathized with her mother. There is nothing worse than seeing the carefully planned and crafted world you had created for yourself come tumbling down and you can’t figure out why.

  But judging by the way they were hugging out on the street, it seemed to go all right. I suppose after everything, her mom was just happy to be alive and happy to have her daughter. I still wasn’t too sure how she felt about her future son-in-law.

  “So,” her mother said as they came back inside. “We should get going.” She clapped her hands together and smiled and it was then that I realized she looked like she belonged in that god-awful Disney movie, Frozen. Not that she looked like a talking snowman, more like the blonde snow queen.

  Beside me, Ada let out a small groan. I had been listening to Daniel talk about all the things wrong with New York that I hadn’t been watching her. She got up to her feet and then ran toward the bathroom, looking like she was about to barf.

  “What’s wrong with her?” Perry asked.

  “I don’t know,” I said, eyeing Daniel. “She seemed fine.”

  “She probably had bad pie,” he said.

  I frowned. “There is no such thing as bad pie.”

  Minutes later she came back out, paler than normal but looking bright-eyed. “I’m okay,” she said sheepishly. “Sorry, I just felt nauseous.”

  “It’s all the stress, honey,” her mom said. “We can go another time.”

  “No,” she said, slinging her designer backpack on. “I’m all good. Totally. Let’s go.” She looked to us. “Are you guys sure you don’t want to come?”

  Perry nodded and offered her a kind look. “Thank you but we’d rather be alone.”

  Ada nodded, understanding. “All right, me and the rents it is.”

  They left the restaurant and after we got coffees to go, we followed.

  “Think they’ll be all right?” Perry asked as we stood outside the shop. The air was still stinky and hot as a wet sauna, but I couldn’t complain. I was alive.

  “Don’t see why not,” I said, but even as I said it, it felt weird. Like I was jinxing things. But I didn’t know how.

  Perry appeared to be satisfied with that, th
ough I know she’d worry about it in the back of her brain. “So what do you want to do?”

  She looked at me as if I was automatically going to suggest sex but that, for once, wasn’t what I had in mind. Not now, anyway.

  “You were at the hall of records the other day, right?” I asked.

  She cocked her head, appraising me. “Yeah. Why?”

  “Did you find out anything about my father?”

  “Your father? No. No, we searched for your mother.” She paused. “Why?”

  I try to shrug it off like it was no big deal, but it really was. “No real reason. I guess, I just thought while I’m here, I’d try and track him down.”

  “Are you serious?”

  I nodded. “I know it seems ridiculous considering he’s a bastard that up and left me. And yeah, I kind of want to punch the guy in the teeth. But if he’s here, I want to see him. And yes, possibly punch him in the teeth. At least step on his foot or leave flaming doggy-doo at his door.”

  “Dex,” she said in a warning tone, “are you sure about this? I mean, I know you have gone through the most traumatic event that anyone can go through but I don’t know if that means you should start contacting everyone you know.”

  I gave her a look, reminding myself to stay patient with her. “No offense kiddo, but you don’t understand. You have a dad. He’s stayed by you, even though he can be a little Don Corleone at times. I never had that. No DeNiro, no Brando. I had nothing. If I have the chance to find him, get some closure, I want to take it.”

  She nodded and put her arms around my waist, pressing against me. “I understand. And I don’t mean to be inconsiderate and shit. I just don’t want you to get your hopes up. And I don’t want you to get hurt. I will kill the next person who hurts you, I swear.”

  “I know you will, baby,” I said, pulling her even closer and laying a hard kiss on the top of her head. “That’s one of the many, crazy reasons why I love you.”

  It was hard to break the connection and warmth our lips were giving each other – something about the last few days made me feel like I was falling, tumbling, in love with her all over again.

  She smiled up at me, sweet as sugar, and said, “You have my support, no matter what. If you want to go find him, then we’ll try and find him.” A devious glint came across her eyes. “Just don’t forget I have ninja moves.”

  I held on to her hand and together we walked down the street, heading to the nearest subway station.

  “Hey,” I said, “how did it go with your mom? I saw you guys hugging but wasn’t too sure what that was about.”

  “You couldn’t hear the thoughts I was sending?” she asked rather innocently.

  I shook my head.

  She grinned, pleased with herself. Then the ends of her smile quirked down. After a pause she said, “I just told my mom the truth. About why she was seeing things. How I found her pills.”

  “Was she mad?”

  “Yeah. She was. But, more hurt I think.” Her eyes darted to me sheepishly. “Anyway, she understood. She said she was glad I did it. That it got her to see what she’d been missing. Obviously none of what she’s been seeing has been very pretty. I don’t know if she can see everything we can. I mean, she can see major things. Everything that happened in the house, she knows it. But she hasn’t been visited by any ghosts.”

  “Well that’s good.”

  “Yeah,” she said, swinging our arms in the air for a few steps. “It’s good. I just hope it doesn’t get worse, you know? I don’t wish our…problem on anyone. I know my mom has kind of been horrible these last few years but she’s still my mom.”

  I nodded. Oh, I knew how that went. No matter how badly they treat you, no matter how much you fear them, they are still your mom. You love them despite all that. You hurt despite all that. It really fucking sucks.

  “So,” she continued, trying to keep her voice light. I could tell she was close to crying. I didn’t mind if she did, she had a lot to let out. We both did. She cleared her throat. “I am really sorry I switched the pills, but I don’t regret it. Does that make sense?” When I told her it did, she said, “For you too. It made you move in a certain direction, made us move in a certain direction.”

  “It brought us together,” I told her matter-of-factly.

  “And I think it will do the same for my mom and me. She’s already different around me, you know? I think…I think maybe she’ll finally really get to be my mom. I’ll feel like I have a mother that loves me. Not to say she didn’t before, but you know how different it is when you feel it.”

  I did. And I only knew it for a brief moment, in that last dream my own mother was in. But it was enough.

  After that we walked like any couple in New York, stopping for hot dogs and complaining about the heat and stink while taking in the sights. Okay, maybe we were like any tourist couple in New York but that was fine with me. Seattle was my home now – our home – and I was content to see this city briefly before saying goodbye. I couldn’t say I ever wanted to return. My memories here only worsened. It wasn’t just the place where my life went to shit…it’s where my new life went to shit as well.

  But we were going to come out of it, like a fucking Phoenix out of the ashes. Or at least like Phoenix in X-Men. She was hot as fuck and a badass motherfucker.

  We didn’t even make it as far as city hall, though. We stopped into a trendy coffee shop for yet another hit of espresso – both of us had trouble keeping our eyes open, I guess after being so close to death we wanted our hearts to beat into oblivion – and Perry sat down at one of the iPads they had at their tables.

  It only took her about five minutes of searching the net while I was in the bathroom taking a leak for her to locate my father.

  When I got back to the table, she was wriggling in her seat like a puppy, like she was about to lead me to a boy trapped in a well.

  “What is it, Lassie?” I asked.

  “I found him,” she said excitedly.

  I don’t know what expression came on my face. Probably fear.

  “Timmy O’ Toole?”

  “No,” she said, holding up a napkin with writing scribbled on it. “Your father. He’s in Queens.”

  I tugged at my eyebrow ring. “Interesting. Are you sure?”

  “Dex,” she huffed out in annoyance, getting to her feet. “You’re the one who wanted to hunt him down. We’ll we hunted him. Or I did. He’s in Queens. I found him first in the paper for winning a regatta off of Long Island. Then I traced him through the online phone book. He looks, well, he looks like you, Dex. Or at least you when you’re older. Do you want to see?”

  I didn’t think she could tell any better than I could about whether the guy looked like my father or not but before I could say anything, she was pulling an article up on the iPad.

  And there was picture of Curtis O’Shea. My father. He hadn’t even bothered to change his name.

  I frowned, trying to feel something between me and the pixelated face staring from the screen. I don’t know if I felt anything, though I had to say there was some resemblance between me and him and more than that, well, it was him. I may have been a teenager when he left, but he was in his forties. Now he was in his sixties and the aging process had been kind to him.

  He had salt and pepper hair, but it was still thick and worn parted on the side. His face looked saggy but his eyes were dark and sharp, framed by impressive eyebrows. He could have given Jack Nicholson a run for his money.

  It was my dad.

  I rubbed my lips together and looked away. Okay, maybe this wasn’t a good idea right now.

  “Hey,” Perry said, hand on my forearm. “Let’s just forget about it. You know he’s alive. He’s out there. And if you want to say hello one day you have that option. But you don’t owe him, or me, or yourself, anything.”

  I nodded and sighed. I knew all of that. “Let’s do it.”

  She studied me for a moment, perhaps trying to figure out if I was in fact Dex Foray and
not someone else. I couldn’t blame her.

  “Let’s do it,” I repeated, putting my hand on her shoulder and squeezing it. “Let’s go meet my dad.”

  She gave me a small but supportive smile and nodded her head. We left without talking, the air heavy around us as we navigated the subway system that I still knew like the back of my hand. The closer we got to Queens the more she started to wriggle around again. It was so fucking cute. I would have banged her in the nearest disgusting washroom if we weren’t about to find my father.

  It wasn’t long until we were walking down the street that she had mapped out for us. It was a nice neighborhood. Not as posh as the one on the upper east side, but it was one of the nicer ones in Queens and the townhouses and duplexes would have fetched a lot of money.

  It was a workday so I wasn’t completely sure if we’d find him at home, or if he even had a job. The newspaper article didn’t say much except he had a boat and was an avid sailor. I know I wanted to find him, to see him, to make some sort of amends for things that weren’t my fault, but I wasn’t about to go hunt his saggy ass down at an office or anything like that. I would give, I would put in effort, but at a certain point I stopped. There were only a few people who I’d give all for and they weren’t my father.

  “This is it,” Perry said as we stopped in front of a brownstone. In some ways it looked like the one I grew up in but for the most part it was different. The ceilings were shorter, giving the house a crouched appearance even with two levels and there seemed to be an expansive side yard. There were a bunch of flowers in the front, carefully arranged into terracotta pots. I wondered if my father had a green thumb – my memories pulled up that he did – or if he had remarried.

  Shitballs, he might have had a whole new family, a new son, a new life.

  “Maybe this was a mistake,” I said to Perry just as the front door opened and a woman stepped out. She had grey hair piled into a bun and was wearing a Native American poncho, jeans and Crocs.

  “Are you Charles?” she asked in a very Katherine Hepburn accent, all nasally and raised chin.

  “Uh, no,” I said, looking at Perry for reassurance, as if she was going to tell me that I wasn’t Charles. “We’re looking for Curtis O’Shea, though.” I said. Saying his name out loud kind of felt like saying Bettlejuice.