Requiem

by Jim Moens

  “I heard,” Nick replied.

  “I gotta tell you,” Doug said. “You are one lucky dog.”

  Nick looked a little confused. “Um... thanks. I guess.” He thought for a second, then flashed a grin. “Oh yeah... I wasn't supposed to tell you this, but ‘Becca thinks you're pretty hot.”

  It was Doug's turn to be confused. “Thank... you?” was all he managed to say.

  “I'll tell you what, though... if you take her out, you better treat her right,” Nick said.

  “Wait... what?” Doug stammered. “Why would you... I'm sorry, I'm lost here.”

  “If you start going out with my sister, you better treat her good. That's all.”

  “Your…?” Suddenly it dawned on Doug. He smiled. “Ohhhh. Rebecca is your sister.”

  “Yeah,” Nick said. “What did you think?”

  “I thought she was your... girlfriend,” Doug said. He guessed that his face had turned a little red.

  “Girlfriend?” Nick said. “Gross. No.”

  Doug laughed. “Awesome.”

  “She is pretty cool, though,” Nick said. “You really should ask her out. You want her phone number?”

  “Yes,” Doug said. “Yes I do.”

  “Third grade math isn't so bad, is it?” Doug said. Frankie's homework was spread across the kitchen table. Spelling... done. Social studies... done. Now they were hip deep in the main event. Math.

  Frankie shrugged and returned her gaze to her worksheet.

  “Fractions are hard,” Frankie said. “I don't like them.”

  Doug heard the back door creak open, then a burble of voices. Apparently Dale and Karen were actually having a conversation.

  “Grandma's home,” Frankie said.

  “That she is.” Doug said. “But focus, okay? You're almost done.”

  “I want to say hi,” Frankie said.

  Doug heard his parent’s voices raise a little bit. The tone became a little harsher, then harsher still. He couldn't quite make out what was being said, though.

  “Later,” Doug said and pointed to the worksheet. “Homework.”

  Frankie sighed and returned to her fractions. Doug thought he should somehow come up with a story wherein Xen the Warrior used a newfound prowess with fractions to defeat the Dragon Lord.

  “How’s everyone?” Karen said as she entered the kitchen.

  Frankie's face lit up. “Hi Grandma!”

  “Hello there, young lady,” Karen said, glancing down at the mess of papers. “Lots of homework tonight?”

  Frankie nodded. “Almost done.”

  Karen started rifling through the refrigerator. She gave Doug a glance and nodded him over. Doug rose and approached her.

  “I want you to be careful,” she whispered.

  “Careful?”

  “Nina pulled the death card tonight,” she said.

  Nina was Karen's own personal fortune teller. Karen consulted with her at minimum once a week and rarely made a major decision without her psychic guidance.

  “Mom, come on,” Doug said. “Enough with the tarot cards, alright?”

  “She's always dead on,” Karen said and pulled a bowl of leftover spaghetti out of the refrigerator.

  “Is that what you and dad were talking about?”

  “Your father remains a skeptic,” Karen sniffed. Then louder, to Frankie, “Spaghetti tonight?”

  “Awesome!” Frankie said.

  “I don't blame him,” Doug said. “You drop... what is it... fifty bucks a week on her? Seventy-five?”

  “She provides valuable guidance,” Karen said. “Worth every penny.” She put the bowl of spaghetti in the microwave.

  “Fine,” Doug sighed. “Listen, I'm supposed to go have a beer with Bill from work. I should be back by about 7:30 or so.”

  “Bill... he's your friend that had cancer last year, right?”

  “Yeah, he's fine though,” Doug said. “It was just some skin cancer. Had an operation and it was completely gone.” He glanced at the table of homework. “Frankie's almost done with her math, and that's it for homework for the night.”

  “Ice cream for dessert?” Karen said.

  “As long as she's done with her homework,” Doug said. “Frankie, I'll be back in a little while. I'm going to go meet with my friend.”

  “Girlfriend?” Frankie said.

  “Ha ha, no,” Doug said. “Friend. Bill from work. You remember him?”

  Frankie nodded. “I like his tattoos.”

  “Well, be good for Grandma and Grandpa. Get your homework done and you can have some ice cream after dinner.”

  Doug sat in his car, the engine idling. He stared at the screen of his phone. There was Rebecca's number, right in front of him. All he had to do was press send. It was a tiny little green button. Totally harmless. So press it.

  Doug pressed the tiny little green button and put the phone to his ear. It rang. It rang again.

  “Hello?”

  “Hi, Rebecca?”

  “Yes?”

  “This is Doug... Doug Schmidt. I work with your brother. I'm Frankie's father.”

  “Oh hey, Doug. How are you?”

  “I'm good, really good.” A pause. “Listen, I was wondering if maybe you'd like to get together sometime? Maybe a cup of coffee or something like that?”

  She was silent for a moment. Then: “Yeah, I'd like that. When do you think?”

  “Friday night, maybe like seven or so? There's this place, Coffee Groundz. You know it?”

  “Yeah, I've been there.” A pause. “Friday at seven. I'll see you then.”

  “Great,” Doug said. “I'll see you later.”

  Doug was, of course, pleased with the outcome of the phone call. Not only did he have an actual, real-world, non-virtual date, but he managed to avoid sounding like a complete idiot. Not bad for pressing a tiny little green button on his phone.

  O'Brien's Irish Pub was one of those classic neighborhood corner bars. There wasn't anything particularly Irish about the décor, however. There was a large square bar in the center of the room, a pool table in the corner and a few dartboards on the wall. Doug generally favored O'Brien's, as it was quiet and one could actually carry on a conversation, quite unlike the clubs downtown. The fact that it was almost precisely equidistant between his own and his parent's home was another positive.

  Bill was already at the bar when Doug arrived.

  “Sorry, homework,” Doug said as he took the stool next to Bill.

  “It's all good,” Bill said. “How's that daughter of yours doing?”

  “Good,” Doug said. “Not a fan of fractions, though.”

  Bill took a sip from his frosted mug. “Me neither. I always sucked big donkey balls at math. I barely passed Algebra One.”

  Doug nodded. He had much the same experience.

  “So this Brian character,” Doug said as he gestured for the bartender to get him a mug. “Kind of a dick, I think.”

  Bill nodded. “I called Leo, my buddy in distribution. Says this is his first store. Just got out of business school or some shit. Sounds like he's never even worked in a store before.”

  “And this guy is supposed to lead us to victory?” Doug got his mug and poured himself a beer from Bill's pitcher. “This should be fun.”

  Bill, the man who always had something to say, fell silent. Weird, thought Doug.

  “So... what's going on with you these days?” Doug said, eager to break the quiet.

  Bill didn't say a word. He took another sip from his mug.

  “I mean, I see you at work,” Doug continued.

  “I went to the doctor again last week,” Bill finally said.

  Doug's stomach proceeded to twist into a series of knots. “Yeah?”

  “It appears the fat lady has sung,” Bill said.

  “What does that mean?”

  “That means they found four spots on my brain that apparently are tumors.”

  “That's not necessarily a death sentence,” Doug said. “Right
?”

  “I start radiation treatments next week.” Bill took another, larger, gulp of beer. “They're going to send laser beams or some shit into my brain.”

  “You scared?”

  “Yeah.”

  Doug thought about his mother and the death card. For some reason he thought about Rebecca and their coffee date on Friday.

  “I just wanted to tell... somebody,” Bill said. Doug recalled that Bill's parents had both passed away when he was young. His girlfriend of several years, Beth, had left him, just as he told her of his cancer scare last year. “My brother's going to get me to the treatments, but still...” Bill shook his head and took a long sip of his beer.

  “I got your back, buddy,” Doug said, wishing he had something more inspiring or uplifting to say. “I got your back.”

  Doug and Frankie went home around eight. He finally got Frankie into her bed a bit past nine. He briefly played a half-hearted round of QuestWorld. Laurel caught him on chat just as he logged out of the game.

  KALA-RU: hey there

  KIRON: hiya

  KALA-RU: you weren't on long

  KIRON: just wasn't feeling it tonight

  KALA-RU: i know what you mean

  Doug doubted she really did. He politely begged off chat, checked on Frankie's peaceful slumber and went to bed. He slept fitfully, at one point dreaming about a tall man in black standing in the shadows in the corner of his bedroom, watching him.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  1951

  David Schmidt hired Ayala's father, Andrei Cristescu, the very next day for labor at Schmidt Quarry. He did indeed prove to have a strong back. David also found he was an eager, hard worker and a quick study. Taking on Mr. Cristescu was initially a small act of insurrection against the great Desmond Schmidt. The fact that he turned out to be an excellent employee was both vindication and icing on the cake. Both facts, along with the prospect of annoying his father, pleased David to no end.

  Dennis was pleased too. He knew that helping Ayala's father to get on at the quarry was probably the best way to get in her good graces. The fact that the Cristescu family now had steady income would enable them to put down roots and he would therefore have ample time to romance the most beautiful girl he had ever seen or likely ever would see.

  Dennis made certain he looked his level best. He wore his best shirt and slacks, and there was not a hair out of place courtesy of vast quantities of Brylcreem.

  “So you think you'll score?” Chuck said and snickered. Fred gave Chuck a light punch on the shoulder, which was ignored. Dennis had hoped Chuck would tone down the goofiness, but to no avail.

  Dennis made a sour face, even as he scanned the carnival entrance for Ayala's arrival. “She's not the kind of girl you 'score' with, okay? She's a beautiful woman... the kind of woman you romance.”

  “Like you would know anything about that,” Chuck said.

  Dennis turned to Chuck. “Maybe I'll forget about introducing you to her sisters. What do you think about that?”

  “Sorry, chum,” Chuck said, raising his hands in mock defeat.

  “I'm getting hungry,” Fred said, “Let's go get an elephant ear or a funnel cake or something.”

  “They'll be here in a second,” Dennis said, back to watching the entrance.

  Fred sighed. “Better be worth it,” he muttered. “I'm starving.”

  “Quiet,” Dennis said, mildly irritated. “They'll be here in a minute, I swear.”

  Chuck snickered. “You said they'd be here in a second. Make up your mind.”

  Then, as if on cue, he saw them. Ayala saw Dennis and waved; a bright, broad smile on her face. Dennis waved back.

  “Holy moly,” Fred said, slack-jawed. “You weren't kidding.”

  Ayala walked their way, flanked by her two sisters, Adela and Elena. The sisters were all close in age and strongly resembled one another, though in Dennis' eyes Ayala was far and away the most beautiful of the three.

  “Thank you Dennis,” Ayala said as they stood almost toe-to toe. “Papa started his new job and he loves it.”

  “I hope it works out for him,” Dennis said.

  “I hope so too,” Ayala replied.

  Chuck took the initiative, given that Dennis and Ayala were immediately lost in each other's eyes.

  “I'm Chuck,” he said, extending his hand to Adela. Adela offered her hand in return and Chuck lightly kissed it. “This here schlub is Fred.”

  Fred already had his eyes on Elena. “I'm... Fred?” he stammered.

  “I'm Elena. It's a pleasure to meet you, Fred.”

  “So,” Chuck said, clapping his hands together, “what do you say we go have some fun? We are at a carnival, you know.”

  Fred seconded the motion with a nod. “Maybe we could get something to eat.” he said. “I'm starving.”

  “You're always starving,” Chuck said. “What's the matter, your mommy not feed you?”

  Fred took a playful swipe at Chuck. “My mommy feeds me fine. I'm a growing boy, is all.”

  Dennis and Ayala broke their reverie. “I'd like to try that Ferris wheel,” he said, then to Ayala, “you game?”

  “That sounds wonderful,” she said. “Let's go.”

  Dennis was grateful the Ferris wheel stopped while he and Ayala were at its highest point. Grateful that he could take her hand in an attempt to quell her mild fear of heights. Grateful also that he now had an opportunity to give her a guided tour of town.

  He pointed west, right along the riverfront. “Right there, that's where they're going to put the new bridge. I think they start building it next spring.”

  Ayala nodded, still a bit nervous, but trying to take it all in.

  Dennis turned and pointed to the east. “And I live right there. About halfway up the hill.” He squinted and leaned forward. “I think I can see my mother. I think she's watching us.”

  Ayala giggled. “Should we wave?” she said.

  “I think we should,” Dennis said, but just as he raised his hand they heard a voice boom from below.

  “Dennis and Ayala, sittin' in a ferris wheel, K-I-S-S-I-N-G.” It was Chuck, holding hands with Adela.

  Ayala laughed. “Your friends are funny,” she said.

  “He's not correct,” Dennis said.

  “He's not?”

  “No. We're not kissing.”

  Ayala's eyes widened just a bit. She gave Dennis' hand a squeeze.

  “I'll have to fix that,” Dennis said. He touched a finger against Ayala's chin and turned her towards him. He drew her closer and her lips brushed against his. He kissed her again, this time more firmly. Her lips were full and soft and wonderful.

  Chuck and Adela watched from fifty feet below. “Okey dokey, then,” he said to Adela. “You want to get a corn dog?”

  “Sure,” Adela said and off they went.

  Dennis pulled back and slid his arm around Ayala. She rested her head on his shoulder. The ferris wheel lurched to a start and the two of them slowly began their descent to ground-level.

  “Hey, Dennis! Look who I found!” Chuck fairly well shouted.

  Dennis turned to see Chuck emerge from behind a trailer at the far end of the midway. He was followed by a stumbling, swaying Uncle Dean. Dean grinned broadly, revealing a row of uneven, yellowing teeth. Dennis suddenly wished the six of them were back at the other end of the midway.

  “Oh boy,” Dennis said under his breath.

  “Something wrong?” Ayala said.

  “It's my Uncle Dean,” Dennis said. “Drunk like usual.”

  Ayala gave Dennis' hand a squeeze as Dean approached.

  “Howdy nephew!” Dean said, extending his arms for a hug.

  Dennis took a step back. “Hiya, Dean.”

  “Uncle Dean, c'mon now!” Dean took full view of Ayala. “Who's your pretty friend there?”

  Dennis stepped forward, drawing himself up, reminding Dean just who the bigger man was.

  “This is Ayala,” he said.

  Dean belched, w
hich somehow turned into a chuckle. “Well, my nephew finally got himself a steady girl.” He belched again. “We were starting to wonder, you know?”

  Fred, ever the stalwart good guy, stepped forward to stand next to Dennis. “Hey buddy boy, why don't you watch your mouth there?”

  Dean regarded Fred with a sneer. “Everybody knows you're a faggot. Right, boy?”

  Fred drew a fist back. Dennis grabbed him by the shoulders. Grandfather would not be pleased if Dean were to get trounced, deservedly or not.

  “Cool it, Fred,” Dennis said. “He's not worth it.”

  “Somebody needs to give this guy the what for,” Fred said as he lurched forward, his finger inches from Dean's face.

  “He's drunk and stupid. Let it go, okay?” Dennis said in a whisper, then to Dean, “Did you need a ride home?”

  “I drove my car,” Dean said, swaying as if he was caught up in a stiff breeze.

  “You can't drive like this,” Dennis said. He thought for a second. “Chuck can take you home.”

  “Why me?” Chuck protested.

  “Chuck, c'mon...”

  “He'll barf all over my seats,” Chuck said. “I just had them refinished.”

  “Please?” Dennis slipped his hand into Ayala's. “I'd do it for you, chum.”

  Chuck sighed. He didn't want to stand in the way of his buddy spending time with a new girl.

  “He's right on your way home anyway,” Dennis said.

  “Fine,” Chuck said, resigned to his fate. He turned to Adela. “Maybe I can see you again sometime. We can double date with your sister and fun boy over here.” He jabbed a finger in Dennis' direction.

  Adela nodded. “I would like that,” she said, smiling coyly. “Very much.”

  Chuck turned to Dean. “Let's go,” he said. “Don't barf on my seats, okay?”

  “I promise,” Dean said, as he went to follow Chuck. He gave Fred a parting sneer as he walked past. Fred, to his credit, merely looked away.

  Dennis put a gentle hand to Ayala's shoulder. “Maybe we should get you home,” he said.

  “It is late,” she said. “I don't want our papa and mama to worry.”