The New Rule: (The Casual Rule 2)

by AC Netzel

  “Come on, my mother is over there.” We walk over to Beverly who just finished chatting with some of her lady friends from “The Club”. I can’t help but notice that pathetic Cougar-wannabe, Miriam Wilson checking out Ben in his black suit as she walks away.

  “Julia, how good of you to come,” Beverly says offering her hand to me. That’s an odd statement… Where else would I be? We politely shake hands, and she moves on to the next person offering their condolences.

  “My father is around here somewhere,” Ben says, searching through the crowd of family, business acquaintances, and friends. He pauses and frowns. I glance over and see Dick close-talking to the same woman from “The Club” who had his hand firmly planted on her ass. She’s in a skin tight black dress, smiling coyly at Dick.

  So nice of the Mistress to pay her respects… right in front of the wife. Bet she grabbed a mint from the bowl.

  Dick. Dick. Dick. I call it like I see it.

  Elizabeth and Stuart are talking to Cam-eel near a table filled with family photos in silver picture frames. When Kitty died, Elizabeth was affectionate and decent to me. Maybe that’s the silver lining in this sad event, Elizabeth and I forming a friendlier relationship.

  “Oh, hello Julia,” Cam-eel says flatly.

  Predictable.

  “Camille.” I nod, turning my attention to Elizabeth. I lean in to hug her, but she stiffens. I retreat mid-hug and place my hand on her arm instead. “Hi, Elizabeth. Are you doing okay?” I ask.

  “I’m fine. It’s not like I’m going to throw myself in the casket,” she answers sarcastically, rolling her eyes as she smirks in Cam-eels direction.

  I can think of a few places I’d like to throw you. Looks like Elizabitch is back in town. That didn’t last long.

  I ignore her snide remark and turn to Stuart. “How are you doing Stuart?”

  “I’m good. Thanks.” At least he’s nice.

  “The flowers are lovely. Are they arrangements from one of your Florist shops?”

  “Yes, thanks for noticing. I went to my store on Madison Avenue and personally took care of them.”

  “Kitty would have loved them. They’re gorgeous.”

  He nods thoughtfully. “I think she would too.”

  Ben apologetically leaves me on my own while he makes the rounds with visiting guests paying their respects. He smiles cordially, shaking hands, and doing all the things he’s expected to do. But I know behind that genial smile is a man who must be so grief-stricken, so tightly wound, he’s teetering on completely snapping if he doesn’t let it go.

  All the while, his father is laughing it up with the other woman. Classy guy.

  I stand in the corner of the room, feeling a bit out of place. I hoped Ben would stick close to me. But with his father playing boyfriend to his mistress in front of his dead mother and breathing wife, it seems Ben is in charge of all things mature and respectable.

  I don’t know many of Ben’s friends. I met a few of his old college buddies on one occasion, briefly. But we’ve been so wrapped up in each other and the short time we had together with all of Ben’s traveling; we never let anyone else into our bubble.

  I breathe a giant sigh of relief when I notice Allie, Vince, Marcello, and Peter enter the room together. Finally, some friendly faces. They walk up to Ben and pay their respects to Kitty at the front of the room. Ben points them toward the back corner where I’m hiding out. I give a quick wave. They spot me, and make their way to the back.

  “Hey Jules,” Allie says as she surveys the room. “Nice turnout. Who are they? Friends? Family? Judging by the jewelry on some of these women, they aren’t hurting.”

  “I have no idea. Ben’s father is his usual dick self, leaving Ben to play Master-of-Ceremony. There’s no way in hell I’m hanging around with The Bitch Twins,” I say, pointing my chin in Elizabitch and Cam-eel’s direction. “So I’m more-or-less on my own.”

  Vince, Marcello, and Peter each give me a quick peck on the cheek.

  “I saw the Ice Queen in the front of the room,” Marcello teases about Cam-eel. “Bet she wishes it was you in that casket.”

  “You’re not kidding,” I say with a little chuckle.

  “Our boyfriend looks hot in a suit.”

  “Marcello, you’re at his grandmother’s funeral… with your boyfriend. Save your inappropriate lusting for another day.”

  Peter shakes his head. “Sorry, Julia. There’s no stopping him. One thing I do promise, he’s a look but don’t touch guy… well, except for me.”

  “You know, I’ve always wondered,” Allie says thoughtfully. “What’s with the cascading red drapes against the wall behind the casket? I half-expect a magician to pop out from behind them and saw the corpse in the casket in half as entertainment for the mourners.”

  “Allie!” I slap her arm, scanning the room to make sure no one overheard her.

  “What? You never wondered that?” she asks.

  “No. No one on earth but you has ever wondered that.”

  “Wondered what?” Ben asks, sliding his arm around my waist.

  “Uh… Nothing important. How are you doing?”

  “I’m fine, Julia. You don’t have to ask every time you see me.”

  “Sorry,” I say, my eyes casting down toward the floor.

  He shakes his head. “No, I’m sorry. That was rude.” He presses a light kiss against my forehead.

  “It’s okay.” I look back up and see my entire family standing at the entrance of the visitation room by a small table where the guest book is located. “Oh look, my family is here.”

  I know the way my family operates. They travel in a pack. They probably came in six different cars and waited for each other in the parking garage until everyone was accounted for. Then enter as a unit.

  “Your family came to my grandmother’s funeral?” Ben asks, jerking his head back slightly. Why does he look so shocked?

  “Of course. They came here to pay their respects.”

  “Yes, but they drove in all the way from Jersey?”

  He doesn’t understand the workings of a big family. We live for weddings and funerals. We look at it as a mini-reunion, an opportunity to see each other… and there’s usually food thrown into the equation at some point.

  “Of course they came. I love you—so by default, they love you too.”

  “I can’t believe they came all this way for someone they never met.”

  I’m astounded that he’s so surprised. Isn’t this the way all families operate?

  They’ve already made their way to the front of the room, paying their respects to Kitty. Before Ben and I reach them, my mother found, introduced herself, and has a horrified Beverly in a death-grip hug.

  Earth, now would be a good time to swallow me.

  “Mom,” I say, grabbing her arm. “Maybe you should give Mrs. Martin a little room to breathe.”

  “I’m just expressing my sympathies,” she explains.

  “How about a little less expressing.” I pull her off Beverly. My dad extends his hand, offering his condolences. Beverly looks down, obviously relieved that he’s not going to attack her and shakes it.

  Dick finally detaches himself from his fuck buddy and joins his wife and my family. Ben is making his way through my brothers and sisters with handshakes and kisses. I stay close to my parents, making sure my mother behaves.

  “Mom, Dad… this is Ben’s father, Richard.”

  “Richard, my deepest sympathies on the passing of your mother. Julia has spoken very highly of her. I must tell you…”

  Oh God. No, Mom, no. Don’t go there. Please don’t go there.

  “The mortician did a spectacular job on her makeup. Lovely lip color, not too red. Great work. So lifelike. You’d never know she’s dead.”

  She went there.

  “Uh, thank you?” Dick answers, rubbing his chin. He looks puzzled. I don’t blame him. This is customary funeral conversation for my family. Not so much for normal families.

&n
bsp; Ben rejoins us, holding a folded piece of paper in his hand. I look at it curiously. He hands it to me.

  “It’s a card Emma drew. Your sister gave it to me. Emma was adamant that I got it today.”

  It’s a piece of yellow construction paper, folded in half. Drawn on it are three stick figures in purple crayon, holding hands with tears running down their circle heads.

  “That’s you, me, and Emma,” he says, pointing to each figure. I open the card and read it.

  To Ben,

  Sorry your grandma died.

  From Emma

  I glance at Ben while he stares at the homemade card with a little smile. I love that this touched him.

  “That was sweet,” I say.

  “Yes, it was,” he says, his head cocked slightly, still with a little smile on his lips.

  When I get back to New Jersey, I’m going to take that little girl out and buy her any toy she wants. In fact, the smile on Ben’s face is worth the whole damn toy store.

  The funeral director announces that the minister will be in shortly and requests everyone take their seats. My sister Sophie sits, crying into a tissue in her hand.

  “Why is Sophie crying? She’s never met my grandmother,” Ben asks, staring at Sophie, who’s three minutes away from making a spectacle of herself.

  “We call her the professional mourner. She gets very emotional at weddings and funerals. Every Italian family has one.”

  “I’m doing the eulogy. Why don’t you stay back here with your family and friends. I’m sure you’d prefer that over sitting with my family in the front. I know I would.”

  “I’ll go wherever you need me.”

  “Stay here,” he assures me, kissing my cheek.

  “Okay,” I say, relieved and grateful.

  Ben walks to the front of the room and shakes hands with the minister. I sit between my mom on one side and my two sisters on the other at the end of the second to last row. My friends sit behind me.

  “Ben is doing the eulogy?” my mom asks.

  “MmmHmm.” I nod, rubbing my hands up and down my legs in effort to deplete some of my nervous energy.

  “Then I’m going to need a tissue,” she whispers, opening her purse. I peek over and see her bag is full of mints. The same mints I saw in a bowl in the hallway with the funeral home’s name imprinted on them.

  “Did you steal those mints?” I ask quietly.

  “Steal? What steal? They’re complimentary. Would you like one?”

  “No. Complimentary means take one. It doesn’t mean help yourself and empty the bowl in your bag to replenish your supplies.”

  “Oh Julia, they’re out to be eaten. I plan on eating them. Eventually. Tissue?” she asks, grabbing a small white tissue from her bag.

  “Did you steal those too?”

  “I took a few from the box on the table near the watercooler.”

  “How many is a few?”

  “I don’t know… half the box. They have hundreds of boxes lying around.”

  I roll my eyes. “No, thank you.”

  “Suit yourself.” She closes her purse as the minister takes the podium and recites The Lord’s Prayer.

  Allie taps my shoulder, inching up to my ear from behind me.

  “Are they going to do this all night? This guy is as dull as a slice of dry toast,” she whispers.

  I turn my head subtly in her direction. “Shhh.”

  She huffs and leans back in her chair.

  After the minister says a few kind words about Kitty and extends his condolences to the Martin family, Ben stands at the podium.

  My heart pounds rapidly and my stomach drops. I swallow down the giant lump in my throat. I watch him standing there, looking so in control. Is it all an act or is he really holding it together that well?

  With a somber expression, he adjusts the microphone at the podium and clears his throat.

  “Thank you all for coming. It’s nice to see so many people here who cared for my grandmother. I know most of you are aware of my grandmother’s philanthropic causes, specifically to the Arts, and the Breast Cancer and Alzheimer’s Research charities she chaired. She was small in stature, big in heart, and beyond generous. She always searched for a lesson in life, a meaning, a higher purpose. And she’d work tirelessly on improving this city she loved and the causes dear to her… especially after my grandfather passed away. I’d ask her why she didn’t slow down and leave some of her charitable responsibilities to others.

  She’d say to me, “Leonard, there’s always work to be done. I can’t stop until it’s finished… or I’m finished. Whichever comes first.”

  Out of the corner of my eye, I spot my sister Sophie mouth “Leonard?” to my other sister, Isabelle. Isabelle twirls a finger in a circle next to her temple mouthing “Probably senile.”

  I redirect my attention back to Ben.

  “But to me and Elizabeth, she was simply our grandmother. When we were kids, my grandparents took us ice skating at Wollman Rink in Central Park. They’d stand outside the perimeter the rink and cheer us on while we skated in circles. As an adult now, I can appreciate how cold they must have been, but they never complained. They’d clap their hands and wave as we went around and around. After, they’d take us back to their apartment. My grandmother would make us each a cup of her famous hot chocolate. It was terrible. Way too sweet… but we drank it because it was from her.”

  He rubs his hand against the back of his neck and shakes his head.

  “I’d give anything to have a mug of that too sweet hot chocolate today.” He clears his throat. I know he’s collecting himself. I peek at my mom who’s dabbing her eyes with a tissue.

  I inhale a short breath and hold it for a minute. I have to keep it together.

  “She always said the only guarantees are life and death… What matters is what you do in between. We think we have all the time in the world. We don’t. I picked up my cell phone today to call and check up on her like I usually do… then I remembered.”

  He exhales a short breath, tilts his head slightly and continues. “I find myself a little conflicted. She always knew one day she’d meet my grandfather again. She counted on it. I’d like to think they’re reunited now. She’d often say she was going to fly away with him. I don’t know if she’s a bird like she planned or an angel now… but…” He stares up at the ceiling. “Grandmother, when you flew away, you took a part of me with you.”

  Looking back at the mourners seated, he clears his throat, then continues.

  “Life is finite. It begins. It ends. But living goes on forever. She lives on in all the good she’s done with her charity work. She lives on in the friends she has and the stories they share. She lives on in her family, who miss her… and love her… and will continue to.” He cocks his head. “She was the greatest person I’ve ever known. I am privileged to call her my grandmother. I will miss her every day of my life. And when my day comes, and I have wings, I’d be honored to fly along side her.”

  He steps down from the podium, shakes his father’s hand and kisses his mother’s cheek. He nods to Elizabeth and Stuart, then searches for me in the crowd of mourners.

  Our gazes meet, and he winks before taking his seat. That wink pushes me over the edge. All the emotions I swallowed deep come boiling up. My chin trembles uncontrollably and I take a shaky breath.

  I place my hand over my mouth and close my eyes. Tears fall in a steady stream down my cheeks. My mother is crying, my sisters are crying. I hear Allie sniffling behind me. My mom taps my arm with her hand, offering a stolen tissue and some comfort.

  I nod my head minutely and mouth “Thanks.” I take the tissue from her and wipe my eyes, leaning my head on her shoulder.

  ~o0o~

  Once the eulogy concludes, the room begins to empty out. Ben is lost in a sea of people. I try to wade through, but the line is too dense. I wait with my family and friends alongside me. While we’re in line, I read the cards on the floral arrangements as I make my way to Ben. I
notice one is from Wisteria Hill Publishing and another from Vivian and her husband Jim, personally. And that makes me tear up again.

  I’m about three people away from finally reaching Ben when I spot one of the pictures in the silver frames is of Ben, Elizabitch, and their grandparents at Wollman Rink. He had to be seven, maybe eight. He was so adorable. And I tear up again.

  Finally, I reach Ben. He smiles and lets out a small chuckle.

  “You’re a crying mess,” he teases.

  “It’s your fault,” I sniffle out. “The eulogy was beautiful. Your grandmother would be so proud of you.” I wrap my arms around him and hug him tight. “I’m so proud of you.”

  He smiles and hugs me back. “I’m sorry; I have to keep this moving. Stay with me.”

  I nod, still sniffling away. These people are probably wondering who the blubbering idiot standing next to this handsome, well-spoken man is.

  After Ben endures death-grip hug after death-grip hug from all the Conti women and handshakes from my brothers and brother-in-laws, my mother grabs his arm.

  “Did you eat today?” she asks him.

  “I had a bite earlier.”

  She shakes her head disapprovingly. “Not enough. You need your strength. I made you a pepper and egg sandwich. It’s in a cooler in the car.” She turns her head to my father. “Frank, get the sandwich for Ben.”

  “Rose, that’s not necessary,” Ben assures her.

  “Nonsense. Frank, the car,” she calls out.

  “Mom, please stop,” I beg, my face heating up.

  Food is my family’s way of expressing love. In good times, it’s a source of celebration. In bad times, comfort. This is my mother’s way of showing she loves you. And she’s going to love you whether you’re hungry or not.

  “You know what—a sandwich sounds good. Thank you,” Ben says. I’m impressed that even in his grief and dealing with all this around him, he has the frame of mind to placate and manage my mother perfectly.

  “Good.” She pats his chest, nodding in approval, and moves on.

  “Sorry about that,” I tell him.