The Extinct

CHAPTER

9





The funeral parlor had a splash of taste in the décor but little in the owners. They had bought the funeral home as an investment only a few years ago and it was turning out to be more work than profit. They seemed to dislike the dead and disliked grieving relatives even more. More than one family had to tell the receptionist to quit talking on the phone during a service, or tell a mortician to turn down the television, or tell the director not to let her children run around.

Eric sat in the front row next to his mother and Jeff. Jeff had chosen this place because he said his mother’s service had been here, but Eric knew it was to save money. James’ estate would be divided soon and Eric and his mom would be receiving a sizeable share; Jeff had no intention of letting his wife spend it on frivolous expenses like her ex-husband’s funeral.

Eric had dreamed last night of his father. He’d seen his broken body in some ditch in India, covered with flies and maggots, his entrails spilled out onto his lap. India appeared like a graveyard in his dreams. The sky was red and gray. The rivers were dirty and all the animals were decomposing, their slick flesh exposed underneath open sores. The dream came more than once and woke him up each time, cold sweat dampening his shirt and causing him to change it.

But his fear from last night had transformed to annoyance today. He felt generally agitated, not wanting to be around anyone or do anything. Irritation wasn’t an emotion he frequently felt and he didn’t know the mechanisms to deal with it effectively. It just sat in the pit of his stomach like jagged metal, weighing him down and clouding his thoughts.

Some of the mourners would truly miss his father. A few friends and co-workers and girlfriends. One of his girlfriends, a plump blond named Brittney that wore clothes far too tight for her larger frame, walked up and knelt down in front of him.

“How are ya darlin’?” she said in her Southern drawl.

“I’m holding up. How’ve you been?”

“Not so good since your daddy left us. I’m gonna miss him you know. He always had a way a cheerin’ me up.” She looked over at Eric’s mother giving her an icy stare and decided to cut the conversation short. “I just wanted to tell ya that if ya needed anythin’ don’t hesitate to give me a ring. Okay?”

“Okay, thanks.”

She smiled and squeezed his hand before returning to her seat.



*****



Brittney really would miss his father. But most of the people there only showed up because they thought it would look inappropriate if they didn’t. The way they were laughing and talking—trying to keep their voices to a whisper but never succeeding—it looked like they’d forgotten him already.

Though she’d been emotional yesterday, his mother seemed fine today and Eric wondered if she’d taken something. There were periods when she’d go to a psychiatrist and get the latest anti-depressants or anti-anxiety medicines. It was a cycle; every fall she would get on medication and every spring she would stop taking it. Her moods were unpredictable at either time, ranging from ecstatic happiness to near suicidal depression. Still, no matter what she went through, Eric thought she always kept at least the appearance of independence and strength. Besides her psychiatrist, she refused to ask anyone for help with anything.

His mother stood and began walking around the room, chatting with the guests. Before long she was mingling and men were flirting with her while Jeff stewed in his seat and watched her from behind sunglasses. Eric looked on with glee and could barely contain a smile.

He began searching the room, looking for familiar faces. There was one face that didn’t look familiar at all. It was old and tan, leathery almost. Like it’d had too much exposure to sun and wind. The man sat quietly in the back, not speaking with anyone.

The man saw him staring and smiled. Eric turned around, facing the casket again. The service was starting.

It was customary to wait a day between a viewing and the funeral, but the director of the parlor had urged that they take place the same day and Jeff agreed. There was no doubt in Eric’s mind that some sort of deal had been worked out.

After the service, the body was carried out to a hearse and Eric was one of the pallbearers. He drove behind the hearse with his mother and Jeff, aggravated that Jeff was listening to the radio and humming along with the melody of some old rock song from the seventies.

The wind was blowing and leaves were all over the cemetery, rattling softly in the background as a priest stood to deliver a sermon that he had memorized and repeated to the point where he spoke it with neither passion nor conviction.

Eric laid a flower on the casket which had stayed closed the whole time. He didn’t get to see his father again to say good bye. As he was walking with his mother back to the car, he noticed the man from the funeral home again. The man stood by the grave until the dirt piled high on top of it and then he said something and turned away toward the parking lot.

“I’ll meet you at the car, Mom,” Eric said. He walked back toward the man and stood in his way as he tried to get by. “Hi,” he said.

“Hello,” the man said.



“Were you a friend of my father’s?”



The man’s lips parted in a smile. “You’re Eric, ah? Your dad talked a lot about you.” He thrust out his hand. “Thomas Keets.”



Eric shook it. “Eric Holden.”



“I was with your father in India when he was taken from us.”



Eric felt his heart skip a beat. “You were with him?”



“He talked about you quite a lot. Said that you were the one thing he didn’t regret in his life.”



“How long did you know him for?”



“Well, me and your father went back a ways. But despite that, you’d be surprised how close men can get out in the jungle, away from the weight of civilization.” Thomas looked back to the grave once more and took out a pair of sunglasses, flipping them on and turning back to Eric. “I’m leaving tonight but I’d like to talk to you before I go. Can we meet somewhere?”

Thomas spoke plainly and without circumlocution. He waited patiently for an answer, not seeming particularly worried that he wouldn’t hear what he wanted.

“All right,” Eric said. “There’s a bar south of the university campus called McPaul’s. I can come by around four.”

“That’s fine,” Thomas said. He put his hand out and Eric shook it again. “It was nice to meet James’ son. I had an image of you in my head but you don’t resemble it,” he said with a smile.

Eric watched him leave. Thomas walked without any pretense, like he didn’t realize or care that others could be watching him. He didn’t look back and didn’t say good bye to anybody. Eric turned away and faced his father’s grave. Tomorrow, it would just be a slab of marble sticking out of the ground. There were people around the cemetery placing flowers on headstones and speaking to them, keeping them clean with small dusters and rags, but he couldn’t imagine doing that. That type of hanging on could drive you crazy. Besides, maybe his father was now at one giant party? Who knows? “Bye Pop,” he said, and left.