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I’m left with Xander on my property barking orders to people on his phone as he rambles out the window and then specific dishes. He’s not addressed me yet, and I don’t think I can put up with him and his pity.
He ends the phone call and walks toward me. “Farmer, I’m so….” Apparently, we’re doing this right now.
I place my arm in the air between us to stop anything he may say.
“No, Xander. Not right now.”
He bends his head in understanding. “Can I do anything else for you before I leave? Karla will be here to drive my mom back home.”
“No.” I don’t extend gratefulness as he had ordered his servants around for our benefit.
“Okay, if you need anything…”
I cut him off again. “I won’t need anything from you, Lynol. Not a fucking thing.”
Raising his carefully manicured eyebrow, he acknowledges me silently but turns his face away. It’s the first time he doesn’t have a comeback or a sarcastic remark. Why do people like him roam the earth, and I’m left without my dad? It’s one of those mysteries of life I’ll never understand.
* * *
It rainson the day of my father’s funeral. Jen hasn’t left my side, and Liz is holding my mother up. Xander and his pompous prick of a father are at the graveside service. They’re as uncomfortable here as I am having them be a part of my father’s farewell.
JJ and I barely had to do anything. Mrs. Lynol has coordinated everything for us. I’ve asked her to send me all the bills, but it’s fallen on deaf ears.
I’d taken my suit out this morning after I woke in my childhood room. Every time I stayed overnight as an adult, my father would wake up before me. He’d stay in the kitchen, doing menial tasks like balancing the checkbook. But it didn’t happen this morning. And it won’t ever happen again.
The preacher gives his closing prayer, blessing my father in heaven. Ma’s cries overshadow the preacher’s words, and I’ve never felt as useless as I do now. Jen holds me tight as my tears fall down my face. I can’t contain them, and why would I? My life has been shattered.
The funeral ends, and JJ and I decide for our ma’s health that she isn’t up for a reception or lunch that accompanies most funerals. Mrs. Lynol insisted that her cook would make us lunch, but I’m unable to face the house, and when we arrive back home, I leave JJ, Jen, and Ma and retreat to the barn, a place I feel I can sense my father’s spirit. Jen knows to leave me be, but as footsteps are heard at the front of the barn, I realize someone still needs to get the same memo.
“I thought I’d find you out here.” The voice belongs to the one person I can’t bear on a good day, let alone a day filled with so much grief.
“Lynol, I swear to the God above and my father’s memory, I can’t deal with your shit today.”
“My mom wanted me to bring you something to eat, and like your mother, I can’t say no to the lady.”
He doesn’t simply have a plate, but a tray of food. And the only thing that gets my attention is the bottle of beer, and I step toward him to grab it. “And tell me, did your mom send this, too?” I ask.
“Nah, I went rogue on my mother’s commands, but I figured you may need it.”
I pop the lid, holding the neck, and down it all at once, but I realize he has more when I finish. “Leave the tray.” He turns to exit. Or it’s my hope.
“Hey, Clark.” He opens his mouth, and I know he’ll say something stupid. And part of me wants him to. I’m so angry, so fucking angry. I need someone to take it out on. “I really admired your father and the relationship you had.” I let him continue as I empty the space between us. “I’m sorry for your loss and…”
I won’t let him finish his sentence, and before he sees it coming, I swing back my left arm and hook him across the face. I follow it up with my right fist, landing it on the other side. “You’re so fucking sorry? You made my life hell for years, and what am I supposed to believe? You’re sorry for my loss? Well, fuck you, Lynol. Fuck you! Get the hell away from me before I take off your entire head.”
I’m shouting, and my brother comes running through the barn entrance. He stops in his tracks. “What the hell is going on in here? I was walking by and heard the commotion.” Xander steps past my brother.
“Yeah, it’s my faux pas—expressing my condolences isn’t acceptable. Believe me, it won’t happen again.”
I wish hitting him had replaced my pain, but it did nothing. He’ll think again before paying me such bullshit condolences. I don’t ever need anything from the fucker, not now and not ever. Though, I take the many bottles of beer and let them be my only condolence for the night.
10
CLARK
The picture gets my attention, as it does most days. My dad’s long arms are wrapped around my ma. JJ and I had to have been eight and ten. We’d just moved to our little farm, which my dad had many plans for. In the eighteen years before he passed, he’d completed over seventy-five percent of his and Ma’s dreams. JJ has become the dutiful first son, finishing my father’s vision. We’d never make millions of dollars. Hell, some years, we’d barely break even. But it’s not always a job when you love your work.
It’s hard to believe my father has been gone two years. A week ago, on the anniversary of his death, Ma, JJ, and I visited his grave. My dad would have hated the tears we all shed because he has left such a large void in our hearts and lives. But it’s what we did. Then we returned to the house and ate Dad’s favorite meal of lamb chops, boiled potatoes, and asparagus. Through all of it, it has been the most brutal two years of my life.
