Tim Sandlin - Skipped Parts

I unbuttoned my top shirt button behind the clip-on tie. “I wonder why Dot’s not raising him.”

Maurey shrugged. Lydia said, “Cause she’s smarter than me.”

“You don’t mean that,” I said, though I wasn’t sure. Normal people go all appreciative of live loved ones at these deals, but I think death just scared Lydia into getting tougher.

After the preacher said whatever prayer you say about dead people, a man in a uniform took the flag off the casket and handed one end to the harmonica player. The army casket was silver and smooth, like a miniature Airstream trailer. Soapley’s trailer before he painted it. It was nothing like the two caskets I’d seen before in my life.

The uniformed guy and the harmonica player did this folding ritual, then the uniformed guy handed the flag to Dot, who stared at it as if she didn’t know what it was.

Dot’s face had lost like five pounds in the four days since the rodeo. More than pounds, her light beam had gone under, she’d lost that inner-cheer thing that made her bright and beautiful. Her posture was shot to hell. She reached for Jacob, as if to prove he was there, but he pulled away and scrambled up the grave dirt.

The black clouds piled high behind the Tetons all the way to Yellowstone and big forks flashed every minute or so. After a flash, I counted to twelve before thunder rolled over the cemetery. Dougie blew his hay-fevery nose. “If they don’t finish this we’ll be struck by lightning and everyone will die at a funeral.”

Lydia kind of sighed behind her sunglasses. “Shut up, Doug.”

I’d been to one winter funeral and one summer funeral, and if death is inevitable like Maurey keeps telling me, I’d rather die in summer. Nobody should be left underground when the dirt is frozen.

Dot’s fingers touched the smooth coffin. Her lips moved awhile, then she took Jacob by the hand and walked around saying thank you to the clusters of people who had come to tell Jimmy good-bye.

That part even moved Lydia. “Jesus,” she said. “Only Dot would remember to be courteous at her own husband’s funeral.”

Maurey said, “I wish I could have the baby this minute.”

Dot hugged Hank, then Coach Stebbins who was there without his wife. They’d both been pallbearers, along with four other guys from the only GroVont basketball team who ever made the state finals. Jimmy was the first guy from the team to turn up dead.

Maurey stood with her hands on her extended belly. “Dot’s son will never know his daddy. That’s kind of sad.”

“I never knew my daddy and I’m okay.”

Maurey and Lydia both said the same thing at the same time: “Says who?” Even at a grief gathering, my women stayed consistent.

Somebody gave Jacob a Tootsie Pop that he tried to unwrap as Dot led him over to our little group. He pulled free from her to use both hands on the job, which I could tell made Dot insecure. She wanted to touch him at all times.

Dot stood in front of us, looking torn. She was the kind of person who thought she owed the world cheerfulness, as if by not smiling and laughing she was letting down her part of the load. But she couldn’t smile now, and I know that embarrassed her.

“Well.” Her shoulders went up and down. “How’s Annabel doing?”

Maurey shifted her stomach weight from one leg to the other. “Dad’s taking her to a hospital in Salt Lake today. She still won’t talk or wear clothes.”

“When Annabel comes out of the hospital, you forgive her. Hear me, Maurey?”

What could Maurey say? Dot’s husband was dead, so she couldn’t very well disagree. Bereaved people are supposed to have special insight into what really matters and what doesn’t. Besides, Dot was probably right.

No one spoke for an awkward time, then Dot touched Maurey’s belly. “And take care of that baby. No milkshakes and coffee for breakfast.”

Maurey went into Dot’s arms. “Won’t you be here to take care of me?”

Dot looked over Maurey’s shoulders right into my eyes. I put my hands in my pockets, then took them out. My turn was coming and I didn’t know if she’d expect a hug or what. “I’m going to Moscow for a while,” Dot said. “All that’s left of Jimmy is Jacob and I want to watch him grow up.”

She left Maurey to come to me and the hug was natural as water. Her back felt soft under my hands. “The White Deck won’t last without you,” I said.

“I won’t last without Jacob.” At the sound of his name, Jacob looked up and grinned a sticky smile.

After Dot hugged Lydia, she stood back with her hands on Mom’s shoulders. “If you find a good man, don’t ever let him go. Do you know what I mean?”

“Yes.”

Dot’s head nodded up and down a few times before she continued. “Pride won’t keep you warm after you lose him forever.”

Lydia repeated, “Yes.”

Jacob dropped his Tootsie Pop in the dirt and burst into tears. Dot did another moment of intense eye-lock with Lydia, then she turned and bent over her son. “It’s okay, don’t cry, we’ll wash it off and make it good as new.”

Jacob stomped his right foot. “No.”

“Look,” Dot said. She put the Tootsie Pop in her mouth and drew it out clean. “See. All new. If you don’t want to eat it, I will.”

“Mine.” Crisis over, Dot led Jacob back to where her parents waited. As she passed the casket, she gave it one last pat, then she picked up Jacob and got in a car.

Dougie blew his nose again, sounded like our water heater when you crank the bathtub hot spigot. “What was all that about?”

Lydia bit her lower lip as she stared off at the lightning behind the Tetons. When she goes into one of those thought trances, I can almost see the process in her eyebrows. They scrunch down behind the sunglasses while she faces whatever it is she’s suddenly come upon, then, when she makes her decision, they spread wide and calm.

Dougie talked to Maurey and me through his handkerchief. “What was that ‘Know what I mean’ stuff?”

“Got me,” I said.

Lydia’s head kind of snapped. She turned to Dougie and took off her sunglasses, her eyebrows at ease. “It means, Dougie, that you’re a nice fella, but you’re not a good man.”

Dougie drew up as tall as possible. “I don’t get it.”

“It means we had our jollies, the fun is over. It means thanks a lot, it was real.” She shook his hand.

“Are we separating?”

“That’s one way to put it. People die, Dougie, and I’d hate like hell for you to be my last man. See you around.”

Lydia walked over to the basketball team that was still sulking around the grave. Coach Stebbins fiddled with the pulley deal holding the cylinder over the hole while Hank and the others loosened straps. Lydia walked up to Hank, put her hands on both sides of his face, and kissed him. He jerked back and turned around. Lydia followed him around the circle, almost stumbled into the hole. He had to catch her by the arm.

“Hey, this is good,” Maurey said. “Think she’ll get him?”

“She’ll get him.”

“Why does she want him?” Dougie asked.

Lydia gestured with her arms, Hank’s face went Indian. The other pallbearers, who only moments before had been droopy and depressed, started to smile behind their hands. Even Coach Stebbins didn’t look all that miserable. They needed a tension break, and one thing Lydia can provide is comic relief.

“He wrecked her house,” Dougie said.

“That’s the Blackfoot way of saying I love you,” Maurey said.

“I’ve been dismissed.”

“Don’t take it personally,” I said. “Happens to me all the time.”

Hank tried to walk away. He went clear around the casket and hole, then he headed for his truck with Lydia talking away at him the whole time.