“I’m mad at myself; not at you. I fucked up then, and I fucked up two weeks ago.”
“Then don’t fuck up anymore,” she said. “I have a message for you…from him. He sent me an email.” She brought it up on her phone and read it to me.
“Dear Rochelle… I’ve always, loved that he calls me by my proper name. He’s the only person who can get away with it. Anyway, I need your help. I’m sorry to put you in this position, but you’re the only person I think Genevieve will listen to. It feels like a lifetime ago that I kissed her by the river. For me, that was the day I fell in love with a fourteen-year-old girl. You can share what you want with her, whatever you think, I leave it in your hands. I’ve spent these last years trying to fill this space inside me only she was able to touch. No one since has ever come close. I sometimes wish I had died in that accident, saved us both the pain we seem to live with…but no more. I’ve decided it’s worth the risk of losing her and having her for one day, than never having her at all.
I took a chance at the club, and I hope I didn’t fuck things up. I won’t rush her, not like before. Ask her to come to the cabin. Thanksgiving night. I’ll wait. If she doesn’t show, I won’t bother her again. I don’t want to bring her anymore pain than she’s already endured.
Happiness and love to you and your mother. I can’t thank you both enough for what you did to take care of Genevieve all these years.
Always,
Ahren
“I take it back,” she said, her words full of emotion. “I don’t want Cos. Ahren is hot, and I bet his dick is huge.”
“Rock,” I giggled through my tears, wiping my cheeks.
“Gen, fuck you if you don’t think that right there is the most romantic thing you’ve ever heard. He’s willing to let you go because he loves you that much.”
“Just like the first time,” I said.
She was right, it was romantic. And furthermore, he knew me, just like I told her he did, and there was no way in hell I was saying no to that. And maybe, just maybe, I could tell him honestly why I’d asked him to leave.
“It looks like I’m celebrating my first Thanksgiving in ten years.” I smiled.
She threw up her arms and cried, “Halle-fucking-lujah!”
****
I had a lot on my mind, but first and foremost, I had a date with Bryce Oskin. Ruby gave me a warning stare when I entered The Elms, which I translated as Cheryl being more out of sorts than usual.
I nodded, walked past the front desk decorated in pumpkins and felt bats, and took my bag of goodies and Brewster’s box to the common room. The minute I was in earshot, I heard him bellow to Cheryl, “If you ain’t Ruby or that Genny girl with the nice titties and full ass, you can fuck right off.”
I giggled in response to his generous description of me and nodded at a flustered and embarrassed Cheryl. She rolled her eyes to the ceiling and scurried away.
“You flatter me, Mr. Oskin,” I told him on my approach.
I hadn’t done it on purpose. Well, maybe a little, but I wore a v-neck t-shirt underneath my vintage three quarter coat. It was a monster of a thing with huge brass buttons and fake fur at the cuffs and collar, perfect for the windy November weather outside. As soon as I took it off and unwrapped the scarf from my neck, Mr. Oskin’s mouth dropped open.
“You tryin’ to kill me with those double D’s?”
“Just a D, actually, and why on earth would I be trying to kill you?” I was still smiling at his vulgar, but welcomed compliment as I settled in for show-and-tell time.
“To get your money quicker?” he replied.
“I’m not exactly starving, Mr. Oskin.”
“Whatcha got in the bag there, cookie?”
He tried to peek inside, but I quickly snatched it away and held it to my D cup.
“We need ground rules,” I told him.
He looked to the ceiling and said, “Knew you were too good to be true.”
“Now, now. First of all, if anyone asks, I give you all your contraband. I don’t want Ruby ever getting in trouble.” Considering it was probably only a matter of time before the Feds came a calling with some questions about her ex.
“Agreed. Now what’s in the bag?” He tried to peek again.
“Second,” I shook my finger at him, “you have to be mindful of your sugar. I don’t know how to check your blood and all that, and furthermore, I want to enjoy my cake without you going into cardia-coma-glucose whatever.”
“Gotcha. Anything else?” he said, sounding bored.
“I don’t want to be responsible for any deaths.” I peeked at the magazines. “How’s your heart?”
“I’m old. How do you think my heart is?” His eyes went from my boobs to the bag, back to my boobs then the cake box.
I let out a long sigh and got on with it. “Okay then. For your autumn cake selection, we have maple and buttermilk layer cake with a pecan and maple buttercream frosting. Or, we have a pumpkin spice cake with cream cheese and vanilla bean frosting. I should have brought something chocolate,” I said, looking between the two options. “Next time.”
“I’ll have half a slice of each.”
Almost done with our excellent cake, Mr. Oskin looked over at me and asked, “You the gal that lost your folks a while back?”
Not like I didn’t have reminders all the time, but they seemed to be on the rise. “Yep, that’s me.”
“This why you do what you do?”
“Part of it, yeah,” I replied honestly.
“What’s the other part?” he asked, licking the frosting from the tines of his fork.
“I’m obsessed with all aspects of death and dying. I’m kinda morbid like that.” I quickly finished my cake and closed the box, thus ending his line of questioning.
I leaned down and handed Mr. Oskin his magazines. “Now, I got you Juggs since I noticed you’re a titty man. I also got you a copy of Ass! since you also seem to be an ass man. And then, just for shits and giggles, Hustler. It’s raunchier than Playboy.”
He looked down at the selection, turned to me and stated, “You’re in my will, honey. From now on, you can call me Bryce.”
****
I left Bryce, feeling pretty good about myself. I hadn’t been particularly unhappy the past ten years. The first year, I was a mess, but after that, I seemed to settle into a routine. I knew what to expect, I watched TV, I rented movies (before I got Netflix.) I was friendly to people, and I returned every sympathetic smile that came my way. But Greer’s Rest was a small town. I had no intention of dating anyone on my home turf. I also came to the conclusion that dating led to feelings, and feelings led to commitment, and that was something I was never going to do.
I could have filled my time volunteering for all sorts of things, but I wasn’t feeling particularly social. I didn’t have to work. Still, I needed a way to fill my time, and that was pretty much how I started my mourning business.
It began with a website I proudly designed myself. Web design turned out to be one of the random classes I took at the community college that actually came in handy. I had a pretty good grasp how to run a small business because of dad. All I had to do was decide what my services would include.
Rocky helped with that. She asked what my ultimate goal was, to which I replied, “I want to help people through the funeral. The funeral is the time to say goodbye, honor the deceased, and make your peace. I had you, but some people have no one.”
That was how it started, and I couldn’t have been happier with the response I was getting through the website. Most of the emails were questions, but then I began to receive specific requests. Now my menu of services included, but was not limited to: Dancing On Your Grave, Motherfucker, Knock If You’re Still Breathing, also known as the Shake N Bake, The Merry Widow, The Banshee, The Wailer, Pretty In Black, and Your Girl Friday.
Your Girl Friday was ultimately the vision I’d had in mind for my business. I wanted to be the person that held your hand while you said goodbye,
someone who could say thank you to well-wishers paying their respects when it was all you could do just to open your eyes and face the day. I was basically the personal assistant of the funeral world.
But over the years, that aspect had become secondary. I was called upon to do all sorts of weird and whacky things, and the next funeral I had booked was exactly that.
“I’m sorry, you want me to what?” I asked.
I met three new clients, all men, at a coffee shop in Sausalito. They requested a combination of The Wailing Woman and The Merry Widow.
“Well…” the most handsome of the three began and stopped. They all looked at each other.
“You tell her,” the burliest man said.
“You tell her,” the second burliest insisted.
“Someone tell me,” I urged patiently.
“Russ, Pete, and myself… He’s Pete, I’m Ted, that’s Russ.” Russ was looking a little peaked, I thought. “Well…”
Oh brother.
“Okay, here’s the dealio.” Russ put a hand on his two companions’ forearms and spoke for them all. “I’m dyin’. I have more bad days than good. It could be six months, could be a year, could be six weeks. We saw you at Lou Lou’s funeral, a few years ago.”
God, that was one of the best funerals I had ever done. Lou Lou was actually Louis Sanchez, a drag queen who was pretty well-known in the “scene,” he’d told me. He, or Lou Lou actually, was famous for his Light Up My Life show and had apparently met his partner, Steven, during his performance. Then, when they were married, Steven took singing lessons for six months so he could serenade Louis at the reception. I thought it was very sweet and very romantic.
When Louis was diagnosed with ALS, he knew exactly what he wanted to do for the love of his life when he passed, and that was where I came in.
The church was packed, and, when I say packed, I mean…standing room only. There were the normal family and friends you’d see at a funeral, but these family and friends gave out so much love, I left that place filled to the brim with it.
Everything was arranged, and after the beautiful words eulogizing Louis were finished, I stood at the back of the church with a microphone in my hand and said the words Louis had given me to memorize.
“Steven, I have a message from Louis.” I cleared my throat and continued. “Baby, I wanted you to know something today. I don’t want to leave you, but I’m leaving you in good hands. You are loved, and every single person here is going to be there to keep loving you when I’m gone. See you later, baby. Love you, the light of my life. Always.”
Then the music started as six, fully costumed drag queens in sequins, feathers, and full Vegas headdresses appeared behind me. In their baritone and tenor voices, they sang the first verse of “You Light Up My Life.” The entire church had the program in their hands with instructions to join in on the chorus, and I led the six fabulous men to the front of the church where I stood next to Steven, holding his hand as he gazed lovingly at his husband, lying in the casket. It was horrible because it was so, so sad, and beautiful because his lover had given him that final message that most of those left behind never get to hear. No one ever thinks it’s going to happen, so they never say the words they should have said when they could.
But Louis did.
I looked up and saw the three men stare at me. I’d been crying. Oh my God, that had never happened before.
“I’m so sorry,” I said, summoning a smile while I tried to retain some kind of professionalism.
“Oh, you sweet girl.” Russel put his hand on mine. “You held the entire thing together with that smile right there…and your hat.”
I did. I smiled that day because Louis was funny and the funerals I attended were not about me. I was there to give that dying man his last wish. So I called the men he used to perform with, then I called his parents and his sister, who was flying in from across the country. I worked with the funeral home to make sure the surprise remained exactly that, a surprise.
But it took a lot out of me.
“I can do this,” I told them. “I’m your Girl Friday, your Wailing Woman, and Your Merry Widow, all rolled into one.”
****
Thanksgiving crept up on me.
I wasn’t sure what to wear, what to bring, what to say, if I should wax, if I should wear my hair up or down… I just had no idea.
Rocky called me in the morning to see if I was going to chicken out. She didn’t say it, but I knew she was thinking it, so I finally told her, “A new beginning, Rock.”
She didn’t say anything. I just heard her sniffle. And that was exactly what this was, a second chance, a new beginning, and whatever happened, I knew it was time for me to start living again.
Before I left the house, I went to the cemetery, sat with my family, and poured them each a glass of fine Irish whiskey.
“I can’t light a candle tonight. Too many leaves, too much wind and no rain. You understand,” I explained. “I have a favor to ask, and believe me, I’ve already had many conversations with the Big Guy upstairs. But, if you have any sway at all, do you think you might be able to put in a good word for us? I mean, you know, he’s lost so much. I’m not asking for me, if it’s my time, I get it…but I don’t want him to suffer anymore. If this is going to happen…” I didn’t finish my sentence, because they knew. I’d talked with them about Ahren so much over the years, they knew. I’d prayed to God every night that he was safe and healthy and happy. I figured, the message had been well and truly received.
“Drink up,” I said with a smile. “You don’t get another shot ‘til Christmas.”
The cars parked on my way to the woods made me laugh at how some things never change. Who knew how many generations of high-schoolers would come to the river and make out? The path was long gone, but I knew it paralleled the river. After trudging through the thick underbrush for fifteen minutes, I could smell burning wood and saw a lantern in the distance. I wanted to run as fast as possible, but I was too afraid I would fall, break my neck, and Ahren would have to carry my lifeless body back to town. No, no, I thought, safety and self-preservation were probably in both of our best interests.
The crunching of leaves made his head whip around, his face illuminated by the soft glow of the lantern. I stood in place, stunned silent by emotion as he stepped off the small porch and met me.
“You came,” he whispered.
I nodded, my eyes welling up with tears.
“I don’t want to live without you, Gen. It’s the same as being dead.”
“I know,” I whispered back as I reached for his hand. “I’m so sorry, Ahren. I couldn’t… I just…”
He put his forehead against mine. “I know, baby. I know.”
We walked into his father’s cabin, and, instead of being met with what I assumed would be modest-rustic, it was beautifully outfitted with a polished stone fireplace, a bed, a tiny kitchen and stove, and even a bathroom.
I couldn’t help but comment, “You have electricity.”
“And running water. And plumbing.” He grinned, still holding my hand.
“Can you excuse me for a sec?” I asked.
“Sure.” He led me toward the bathroom, assuming that’s where I was headed, but still did not release me from his grip.
“Mind if I, uh…”
“Oh, God, sorry.” He chuckled nervously and let me go.
Once inside the safe haven of the bathroom, I noticed there was a clawfoot bathtub…romantic. But there were also toiletries, a razor, a bar of soap in a dish that was half gone. It was then I realized Ahren lived here. I finished up, checking myself in the mirror, and found him sitting in a wooden dining chair, his thumb tapping the table nervously.
I set my bag, which was still over my shoulder, down on the bed and asked, “How long have you lived twenty minutes from me?”
“Five years,” he replied.
I sat down on the bed and, lucky it was there, because my legs would have gone right out from under me.
>
Five years. Five long years.
“No one told me. Someone from town, they would have seen you if you came into town and—”
“I don’t go into town, Gen. I have a house in Mill Valley, but I come here on the weekends.”
I found my strength, stood up, and moved the short distance between us to stand in front of him. Touching my hand to the side of his clean-shaven face, I asked softly, “So you could be close to them?”
I’d been to his parents’ graves many times, and I always left my car at the Denny’s in Mill Valley when I had a funeral there. “I told them my visits might eventually become less frequent when I move back to Greer’s Rest,” he said, pulling me into his lap.
“I told mine not to let anything happen to either of us.” I grinned.
“I might have said something along those lines, as well. I think we’re good.”
“I have to tell you something, Ahren. It’s important.”
His hands were slowly opening my coat, one big brass button at a time.
“Later,” he said as his lips touched the skin below my ear. He pushed his chair back from the table and pulled me tighter to his chest.
“Please, don’t forget,” I said as my coat dropped on the floor beside us, his hands moving across my shoulders.
“I won’t, but whatever you have to say to me, this separation, it ends today. I’ll go at whatever speed you need. For your heart, for your head, you tell me. But this is it for me, Gen. You and me.” His lips touched mine in the softest kiss he’d ever given me as he said, “I’ll share your smile, your laughter, your generosity, and your friendship, but I won’t share your body, and I won’t share your heart.” Another touch of his lips to mine, he ended his speech by saying, “I will not let you go again. I know you, you know I do. I won’t make the same mistake twice.”
I pulled my shirt over my head and threw it on top of my coat. Sitting there in my jeans and bra, Ahren looked me over. He still had on a thick, generous hoodie which he unzipped and shrugged his arms out of. His t-shirt joined mine as he slipped the hoodie back on and wrapped me in it, skin-to-skin. I closed my eyes and took in the feeling of his body pressed to mine.
The Morbid and Sultry Tales of Genevieve Clare Page 8
