Tom Piccirilli - The Last Kind Words

The line of mourners continued to snake away. I waited until everyone else had walked off toward their cars, then I reached into my pocket and pulled out a fresh deck of cards and tossed it in. It was a stupid gesture, but I was a man full of stupid gestures. I was about to make another one.

When the priest turned to go, I reached out and grabbed him by the wrist.

“The last kind words ever spoken to Jesus were spoken by a thief.”

“Excuse me?” He tried to pull away but I held on. “You’re-you’re-”

“We were the first let into heaven. Thieves are pardoned.”

I tugged him toward me and enjoyed the pained expression on his face. Then I released him and left him there with his certain knowledge of God and hell. I walked away in my own bitter confusion.

Most of the mourners came to the house and ate. Gilmore begged off and said he had to get back to work. He shook my hand and I held on an instant too long. He frowned at me in puzzlement and misread my intention. He gave me a quick, awkward hug and th=left.

My mother and Dale kept presenting hors d’oeuvres and platters of cold cuts. A few folks spoke to me. Some I recognized. Most I didn’t. I think I responded, but I had no idea what I might’ve said. I searched for Lin. She hadn’t shown. I realized it was important to introduce her to the rest of the family. She was my brother’s wife. I wasn’t thinking clearly and knew it.

My father began to get hold of himself. He started to take charge, passing out drinks, his voice growing louder. He and the heisters told anecdotes. There were even a few chuckles as they ate and drank together. I kept thinking about Mal and me crashing backyard birthday parties, him taking over the grill and cooking hamburgers, the two of us singing happy birthday to Timmy or Holly or Bob when nobody knew who the hell we were. It almost got me smiling.

I stuck close to my grandfather’s corner. I sat beside Old Shep, and his glassy eyes remained fixed on the television for a minute. He still had the hat on. I liked seeing it on him. It was a throwback to the good old days when he was nearly as stylish as Grey.

He slowly inched his head toward me. I didn’t know what it meant. He was almost looking into my eyes. He was freshly shaven and the suit looked good on him. I knew he was in there somewhere. Maybe he wanted to talk. I said, “Gramp, if you-” and he slowly turned back to the TV. I put my hand on his knee. I hoped he would snatch my wallet again. I stood and turned my hip toward him, praying he would reach for me. He didn’t.

Grey was still devastated but reeling himself in. He looked like he was half dead himself, drained of color and energy. It was the only time I’d ever seen his hair mussed. He hugged Vicky to him, but I thought I could see in her eyes that she knew this was it, the end of the line for her.

Eve stepped to me and said, “There’s only one question a person can ask after a funeral. It’s a foolish one but it’s the only one. How are you holding up?”

I hadn’t spoken all day long except for what I’d told the priest. It was difficult forming words.

“I suppose there’s only one answer to give,” I said. “I’m doing the best that I can.”

She put a hand to my chest. “Terry, whatever you’re thinking about doing, don’t.”

“I’m not thinking of doing anything.”

“Yes, you are. I can tell. You’ve got blood in your eye.”

Her fingers massaged me through my shirt. I shut my eyes and lost myself for a moment in the human contact. Then I took a breath and turned aside. “Eve, you showed me a very nice night, and I should thank you for it. It’s been a long time since I had a chance to hold a beautiful woman close and fall asleep in her arms. But how about if you don’t pretend as if you really know me.”

“All right. But I meant what I said the other night. I do believe you’re a good man, at heart.”

“But you keep qualifying it as ‘at heart.’ ”

“Only because I realize you’re under an incredible strain.”

She was being thoughtful and kind but I felt the way I’d felt during the times I’d been arrested and kept in the county cage. I wanted to shrug my shoulders and hurl the world from off my back. “I won’t do anything rasalih and I’m not going to get hurt.”

Eve saw something in my eyes that must have felt like an invitation. “You can talk to me if you like, Terry. About anything, at any time. This has nothing to do with my job. Please know that. Please believe that.”

“I do.”

I knew I would never see her again unless it was on the day of Collie’s execution.

Grey tried to tell a story about Mal but it fell apart about halfway through. My old man picked up the slack and finished the tale, and the old grifters all laughed appropriately. Grey eventually went to his room. Vicky must have thought he was coming back, but after a half hour she thanked my mother and Dale for the food and said goodbye.

There was still a lot of meaningless chatter, but somehow the emptiness and quiet of the house deepened. All the many secret rooms carried with them a brooding silence across the decades and generations of Rands.

My parents broke from the others and found me with Gramp. My father said, “I’m worried about Grey. He has no one now.”

“He has us,” my mother said. “He has his girlfriends. They help keep him happy.”

“No, we have each other, but he’s alone. Despite all the women, he’s alone. His health, it’ll get worse now.”

“We’ll make sure he goes to the doctor more often.”

“He won’t go.”

My dad looked out the screen door. There was no sun, but he turned away with a hand shielding his eyes as if he’d seen something he couldn’t take. Maybe Mal out there demanding action.

“Who?” he said, his voice firm. “Who the hell could have done this? And why?” My father looked at the floor, and then his gaze settled on me. “Do you have any idea?”

“No.”

He nodded, because that’s all any of us could really do. Nod as if we were in complete agreement with some larger force that would do whatever it wanted with us whether we consented or not. Then he and my mother walked back to the dining area and became proper hosts again for their guests.

Dale gravitated toward us. She said, “Gramp needs to be changed. Ma usually handles it, but I thought I’d give her a rest and do it myself.”

“That’s very considerate.”

“Can you help me get him to his room? On the bed?”

I wheeled him there, eased him out of his chair, and got him onto the bed. Dale got out a set of pajamas and an adult diaper. We turned him over on his belly and she cleaned him like a newborn. It was loving and illuminating. It was possibly the worst thing I’d ever witnessed, because all the time I was watching Old Shep I was seeing myself down the road.

My sister finished up and got Gramp back into his chair. I made sure we put his hat back on him. He deserved a little cool. Back in front of the TV, he perked up a little.

Dale glanced at me and said, “You’re going to do something, aren’t you, Terry?”

“Yes,” I admitted. “Tomorrow.”

“Good,” she said, and slipped off.

I went up to my room, changed out of Grey’s suit, and put on my own clothes. er I didn’t remember crying but my face was covered with salt tracks. I washed up. JFK stood in the door and growled. I looked in the mirror and made the same sound.

Wes had tried to reinforce his basement window so that I couldn’t pop it again, but I easily finagled past his lackluster efforts. I hit the stairs and tried his closet again. He’d moved his stash. It took me five minutes to find it in the central-air conduit in his living room. He’d chipped some paint around one of the vent screws. It was as clear to me as a beacon in the dark.