Waiting on the World to Change ch. 2

I, apparently, was the only coma patient to survive in Brooksville because my phone wouldn’t stop ringing ever since I arrived home from the hospital yesterday. I kept unplugging it, but Romeo would plug it back.
“In case of an emergency,” he said. “Don’t worry about it. We’ll go somewhere. Want to go get some ice cream?”
“Don’t you work anymore?” I asked. “You’ve been here for two days, all day.”
“I retired two years ago. I don’t need the money, and I thought I could try something different for awhile.” The phone rang again, and again and again.
“Try what?” I asked, but was interrupted by their voices echoing through the room.
“It’s the Wallace’s. We’re out, so leave your name and number and we’ll get back to you.” The answering machine beeped loudly. My stomach turned.
“Jane?” a woman’s voice said.
“She’s not home,” a man’s voice said in the background. “Clare, let’s go. The Barnyard is having a $5.99 buffet.”
“Shh, Jim. Jane, Clare here. Call me,” Mrs. Clare Nosy Robinson said. The phone went dead, and the answering machine beeped again. I went to speak again, but the phone rang again. I clicked it to voicemail. My parent’s cheerful voices rang out again.
“Jane, it’s me again. It’s Clare Robinson,” she said. “Jim and I wanted to tell you how sorry we are about your, you know. Call me. Can’t wait to catch up, there’s a.” I pushed the end button on the answering machine.
“Fine, let’s go out,” I said. “I need to take care of some business.”

We drove over to the church to make arrangements for my parent’s funeral. We drove past the grave yard, and my aunt Mildred was walking an old scruffy dog. Its pink collar glittered in the sun. As she bent down to place flowers on my parents’ graves, it pissed all over my dad’s name.
“Good morning, father,” Romeo said and shook hands with the priest. He was wearing steam pressed black pants and a long sleeve black shirt. His cuff links shimmered in the glowing sunlight reflecting through the painted glass windows. His golden brown hair was parted slightly to the left of center and slicked down with wax. 
“Welcome, welcome,” he said and shook Romeo’s hand violently. He smiled big and he stuck his hand back out to shake mine.
“Sorry, I don’t know where that’s been; there are a lot of children running around here,” I said and didn’t shake his hand. I could see my own reflection in his shoes.
“We’ve come to make plans for the Wallace’s funeral,” Romeo added quickly.
“It’s very last minute as I told James on the phone. I’m afraid we don’t have much availability. No, no, not much at all,” the priest said shaking his head. “The Johnson’s are having their son baptized on Sunday; the Jefferson’s funeral is tomorrow morning, I have mass on.”
“We’re in a hurry, today, Father,” Romeo said, eyeing me.
“Of course, this way and I’ll show you to the delectable coffin collection. Here we have the Heaven Rest 3000, cherry Oak, embellished in gold with extra head and leg room for our more beefy travelers. Then this one here is the Sleep Master 600, a smaller alternative for the more modest individuals, but still all the same great quality as the Heaven Rest.”
“I don’t care what type of coffin, or flowers. I just want to se my parents buried. I want to stand over their grave and say my final words to them. That’s all, anything else, you pick it out,” I said.
“Didn’t he tell you?” the priest asked.
“Tell me what? Romeo, are you keeping secrets from me.”
“I said, I’d find a way,” Romeo said to the priest.
“My son there is no possible way at all. You can not resurrect the Wallace’s bodies, it is against the law.”
“His law or the law?” Romeo asked.
“Both,” the priest said, “But fortunately, I have a very good selection of stand-ins at the moment. The Meyers daughter is a very little pretty thing, and Mr. Johnson who lived over on Crescent Street just passed. I think you’ll find his face very similar in resemblance to your father.”
“I’ll find a way. I promise,” he whispered in my ear.
“Oh Romeo, you’re a life saver. If only there was a tower near by to climb,” I said.
“I think your mother would like daffodils,” the priest said “And a mahogany coffin.”
“Violets were her favorite flower,” Romeo said. I walked outside and lit a Cigarette. Romeo followed several minutes later. “Good. I think that’s all taken care of,” he said. “There’s your aunt. Want to say hello?”
“No,” I said and climbed in the car.

It was another two months before their funeral took place. I had taken Romeo that long to keep his promise. But finally, I got to bury them, deep inside the ground, far, far away from me. Two hundred pounds of dirt separated us now, but it still wasn’t enough. The crowd of busy bodies and gossip girls had gathered around the piles of dirt. They had layered the dirt piles with mixed matched cut flowers, and it looked like a child’s mother’s day present, except they forgot the macaroni noodles. They were all lost in conversation, no doubt discussing the greatness of my parents.
“It’s a shame. . .so young. . Such a shame to lose ones so young,” Mrs. Wacko said. A tear trickled down her cheek.
“Mrs. McNealy, this is the Wallace’s funeral,” Romeo whispered in her ear.
“Madeline, Natalie, Mark! I had a vision and it came true this time. You’ll have to believe me now. I foresaw the Wallace’s death! If only I had realized, I could have saved them perhaps,” she said to her friends, dabbing her cheek with her handkerchief.
“We’re missing the new CSI episode,” Mrs. Know It All said.
“I wonder if Grisham and Sarah get together.” Mrs. Clare Nosy Robinson said.
“Don’t worry girls, my wife’s Tivo-ing it,” Mr. Frank Knows Everyone’s Business Johnson said.
“If anyone would like to say a few words, now is the time,” the priest said.
“My dearest brother, you were and always will be my second half. Half of my heart has died with you. And to my sister, I have never known a more gracious, thoughtful woman. The world will never be the same without you,” my aunt said.
“Mr. and Mrs. Wallace, I know you’re probably screaming in your graves, call us Joanna, and Tom as always. You were both the best parents I ever had. When I was ten you took me to a Zoo with Jane, and bought me my first ever ice cream cone. That was the happiest day of my life. That day I realized I had a family after all. I’ll miss you both forever,” Romeo said.
“Mr. Wallace was a good man. . .and his wife too,” Mrs. Clare Nosy Robinson said.
“You’ll be greatly missed,” Mrs. Wacko said.
“I salute you, Mr. Wallace for your bravery in the war,” Mr. Know it all.
No one else moved towards the grave, they were busy poking elbows in each others ribs, blowing their nose trumpets into their monogrammed handkerchiefs. I stepped forward, looking at the mound of dirt, all that was left of my parents.
“Touchdown!” screamed Mr. Frank Knows Everyone’s Business Johnson. His ear piece fell from his ear as he jumped into the air. “Amazing, the Colts pull through and win, 28-27,” the announcer said.
“Fucking bastards,” I said. I lunged towards the crowd of imposters, swinging my crutches at them.
“Easy, Jane,” my aunt said, grabbing my forearm.
“Let me go, let me at them. I’ll kill them.”
“I would, if you were really mad at them.”
“Of course she is. They’re all horrible people,” Romeo piped in.
“Just the same, she’s not mad at them. You don’t care that they can’t remember the smell of your mother or you father’s favorite song. Tell me Jane, what was your father’s favorite song?”
I threw her hands off me. “Crazy, old fool,” I said and hobbled with crutches to the car.

Romeo followed behind me, and took the keys from my hand.
“I’ll drive,” he said. “Jane, do you remember that time you’re parents took us fishing? When you caught the eight pound bass and we stopped and ate ice cream on the way home?” Romeo asked. The red light turned green and still we didn’t move.
“No. Why are you stopping? Green means go, Romeo,” I said.
“You do. I know you do. Remember, you pulled it in all by yourself, and your dad didn’t have a camera, so when we got home, he made you pull the fish out of the swimming pool, and he took pictures. You remember all the good times you had together, all the fishing you did.”
“Green means go, Romeo.”
“It doesn’t matter if you don’t know that Violets were her favorite flower or that his favorite song was by Bob Seger. You’re still their daughter, they still loved you and you loved them. I’ll help you remember them, Jane. I’ll help you.”
“They didn’t love me, they wanted to control me. Just like they did you, only you listened to them.”
“They loved you, they did.”
“Sure, just like they did you. Tell me then, why they committed suicide when the son they loved became a doctor, finished his residency, and opened his own practice. Tell me. How could they leave you, if they loved you? No, Romeo, they wanted to control you, and they did until there was nothing else to control. They made you into their little Pinocchio, and when they were finished they had nothing left to do. Do yourself a favor, Romeo; get as far away from this fucking place as you can. That’s what I’m doing,” I said and jumped out of the car.

I caught a ride with Mr. Johnson; I had gone to high school with his wife, Gabby.
“Gabriele will be so glad to know you are doing well,” he said as he drove down the street. I took another swig from my flask and stuck my head out the window. “She’s always talking about how much fun, the two of you had in high school. Ever since you woke up, you’re all she can talk about.” Before he dropped me off, he invited me over for dinner on Friday.
“Sure,” I said knowing very well that I wouldn’t be here on Friday, “Tell Gabby ‘hi’ for me.”
He let me off down the street from my parent’s house because I asked. I checked. Romeo wasn’t home so I went into the house and began tearing through the cupboards. He had it hidden because my mom didn’t like to see it when she went through the drawers. It was always in a wooden box, locked with a tiny gold locksmith. I reached in past the corning ware, and my hand hit something hard, like wood. I pulled it out. It was wrapped in a green cloth that smelled like cigars. I threw off the cloth and took the box to the garage. I smashed its lock with a hammer and opened it. Papers popped up like a story book. Maybe it was beneath them I pulled them out, but nothing, but more papers. I caught my parents name on one and unfolded the yellow tinged documents. It was there will. I scanned over the paper. There were names and things left. I caught mine and skimmed across the paper with my thumb to the other side. House and bank account. They were left to me. I searched through the other papers. I found their bank statement. I checked for the final balance. Ten followed by far too many zeros. Shit. I couldn’t just let this go to the state. They’d spend it on fancy dinners with tiny cocktail sandwiches and bombs. I’d have to have this taken care of first. Shit. The doorbell rang. I went back into the house and opened the big red door.
“How are you?” a man said. He was small and lean, healthy looking but old. The circles around his eyes and the big bags said he was old, seen too much. I starred at him.
“I suppose you don’t recognize me. It’s been quite some time, Mary Jane. I’m Rudy,” he said smiling.
“My name is Jane and I was actually on my way out. I have quite a lot of business to take care of today,” I said, still not knowing who this man was.
         “Even as a child, you always were as busy as a bee. Shit, Mary Jane all that you’ve been through, take a God damn day off,” he said.
         “I really must take care of this business, Mr.,” I said.
         “Rudy Williams. I was your father’s best friend ever since middle school,” he said, his smile fading away. “You don’t recognize me? No? Come on; let me take you out to lunch. Get some real food in your system.” He pulled me by the arm outside. “I won’t take no for an answer.”
         We got in his car. It was a ’67 Impala. There were a few cases of beer in the back seat, a lighter in the arm rest. He pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and offered to share. I took one and he lit it for me. His cigarette, still unlit between his two fingers, conducted an invisible orchestra, as he spoke.
         “Never have been able to quit. I always admired your father for that. He quit so easily. Cold turkey. Didn’t use a patch or gum or nothing. Never seemed to have a day of withdrawals, but you wouldn’t know that. He quit the day you’re mother found out she was pregnant.” We drove for half an hour, past restaurants and stores. He turned right down a dirt road.
         “If I cared more, I might be worried, you were trying to kidnap me,” I said. He laughed and lit his cigarette.
         “We’re close, I promise,” he said as we turned right again into a rusted gate. We drove through a mass of trees; it looked like a tree farm. Finally the trees parted, and a lot of green grass, tomato plants and a trailer appeared. “I can’t stand none of that greasy, fatty food you get at restaurants now a days. I’m pretty good in the kitchen, you’ll see.” We went into his house and he threw on an apron. It had a woman on the front wearing barely anything. She was wearing a chief’s hat.
         “Present from your dad,” he said pointing to the apron and smiling.
         “So how come, if you were my father’s best friend, you never were around much?” I asked.
         “I was around a lot, when I could be. I was in the military, which took me overseas for years at a time, but I was around. You were always off at a dance class, or later on, at a study group, when I came to visit. If I hadn’t constantly been showed pictures of you, I might have thought you didn’t exist,” Rudy said.
         “Where’s your wife Mr. Williams?” I asked.
         “Call me Rudy. Never been married. Almost was once. I guess I never had the heart to try again,” he said. “You look just like your mother, so much like her.
         “I’m not like them,” I said.
         “Sure you are. You’re witty like you’re mom. Always got something to say about something, from the moment I met her and you’ve got your pap’s drive.”
“You didn’t know them, not like I do, did,” I said. Not like I knew them. You didn’t know the people who dragged me off stage, stuffed me in a car for twenty hours, and told me how my life was going to be. You didn’t know the people who planned my life for me.
         “You have to move on. Get on with life.”
“What do you know?”
“A lot,” he said rotating the chicken in the pan. “I know more about life than you’ll ever know. I been to war, for more than half my life, seen my best friends die for something they didn’t believe in, seen their helpless faces every time I close my eyes, wondering why I’m here and their not. All the while my best fried was back home, getting married, settling down, having kids. I never resented your father though. Things turned out the way they did. You just had to deal, make what you could better.”
“I bet you weren’t that calm when you were drafted, when you were forced to miss my parent’s wedding, weren’t allowed to be the best man.”
“I was disappointed, but not merely as much as I was disappointed for missing my own wedding,” he said a small smile creeping on his face. “Me and your dad had a double wedding planned. Like I said life turns out the way it does, and you have to make the best of what you can. Don’t make excuses Mary Jane; you make your life what it is. Don’t use them as an excuse. They were better than that.” He set a chicken salad in front of me, crossed to the other side of the table and sat down. “Dig in,” he said and we ate our chicken salads in silence.
         He took me home and I went in and checked my messages. Six new messages. All from Mrs. Bake Sale, Mrs. Wacko and so forth. I erased them all.
         “Shit, I haven’t been inside this house in ten years,” Rudy said walking into the living room. “Looks exactly the same.” He peered down the hallway into the bedrooms. “I see the bedrooms look different. Nice taupe color though.”
         “Want a beer?” I asked.
         “No, I better get back home. The roads can be a bitch at night when they’re icy,” he said.
         “Can I come with you?” I asked. “Let me grab a few things. I’ll be really quick.”
         “You got this whole, nice house Mary Jane. Why you want to come back with me?” he asked.
         “It’s supposed to get below freezing tonight,” I said. “And the tents going to be really cold.”
         “You’ve been sleeping in a tent all this time?” he asked.
         “Yeah,” I said. “I’ve had it since I was five. It’s a really nice tent.” He laughed and nodded his head. 

The next morning we got up really early and picked tomatoes in silence. Rudy wore a large orange, sun hat. He didn’t want to get skin cancer he said. I liked picking tomatoes. Every time I found a rotten tomato, I would squeeze it open and dig out the worms infested inside. They popped when I squeezed them between my fingers.
“Why do you keep coming over here, Mary Jane?” he asked.
         “I get free Cigs,” I said.
         “Or maybe you don’t know how to cook a decent meal. I don’t blame you though. Your parents never could cook nothing, if it didn’t come out of a box,” he said.
         “Some days, I walk past the mirror, and I scare myself. I think for a moment here is someone, some old lady with a big ass and too many wrinkles, standing behind me. Where the hell did my life go?” I said more to myself than Rudy.
         “Mary Jane, be thankful you look the way you do at your age and you don’t have a big ass, it’s still nice and perky,” he said. “You’ve got a long time to live. I’m decomposing, Mary Jane. I’m becoming fertilizer for these damn tomatoes as we speak. Don’t know why you’re wasting it here picking tomatoes with me. I wouldn’t be here, if I was you.”
“Maybe I want to be fertilizer too,” I said. We went back to picking tomatoes in silence. He drove me home later on that night and the red light on the answering machine was on. I pressed the button to listen to my messages.
“Six new messages,” the machines voice said. “First new message from phone number 567-4357.”
         “Hey doll, it’s Michelle Thompson. The girls and I are having a little get together tomorrow over at the lake. Barbeque, drinks, maybe get a little wild. You know how we always like to have fun. Come on over, if you’re not busy. The girls and I would love to see you,” Mrs. Snobby Face said.
         “Next message from phone number 255-8763,” the answering machine said. I listened to the numbers and deleted the ones who were selling good times, and raised spirits. Finally it came I let this message play.
         “How are you Jane?” my aunt’s voice asked. “I only work a half day tomorrow, so I thought we could get some lunch together. I’ll swing around at noon.”