It’s not far, I say, trying to sound matter-of-fact, not cool.
Cool, the third kid says. If it’s not far, then sure. Why not?
Did you know Albert? The girl asks as we walk down the winding road of the cemetery.
No.
You’re not like, his teacher or something, are you?
No.
Or a coach or something? I heard he broke his neck in a football accident.
The autumn leaves shake loose in the cool wind.
Hey look, the girl says. That pond looks nice.
She strides off ahead and we follow. The four limos are filing out of the cemetery. A train of cars follows closely behind. At the end of the line is the school bus. When the last car turns right onto the road, the school bus turns left and heads in the opposite direction.
We stand near the pond looking at the calm surface of the water.
Serenity Pond. I love the name, don’t you?
It’s a funeral home name.
It’s still a nice name. Serenity.
We stand at the edge of the water. Staring at it.
Why were you here today? the boy in the housecoat asks.
The girl turns to look at me, as does the other boy.
I came because of my wife. I’m here to pay respects to my wife. I came to visit her.
How did she die? You don’t seem old enough to have a dead wife.
Shut up, the girl says. You can die young of breast cancer. Don’t you know anything?
The boy in the housecoat suddenly looks as if he felt stupid.
I’m sorry, he says. I forgot about cancer.
How long ago did she die?
Five years ago. This is the fifth anniversary of her death.
And you’re still coming to visit her grave?
Yes.
You must miss her.
More than words can say…
I’m sorry, the boy in the pink housecoat says.
No need for you to be sorry.
I am too, says the girl. You must have loved her very much.
I did. Yes.
I suppose you still love her, the other boy says.
The boy in the pink housecoat says: How can he love her? She’s dead. The proper tense here is the past tense.
The girl says: Don’t be so callous, Bert. Can’t you see he must still love her? Love doesn’t ever go in the past tense if it’s true love.
The second boy laughs.
I suppose you’re right, I tell her. That’s a good observation.
But you’re not loving the person, Bert says. Don’t you see? You’re loving the memory of the person.
The second boy says, Serenity Pond. Doesn’t that say it all? There’s all this chaos in our house…my father always screaming at my mother. We need a pond like this.
Yeah, Kim says. I like that idea. Serenity Pond. Smack dab in the center of Kevin’s house.
All the kids laugh. Bert looks especially funny in his pink housecoat.
We start walking again up the drive that leads out of the cemetery.
When we come to the intersection outside of the cemetery, I point the restaurant out to the kids. See it over there?
Traffic passes by while we wait for the crosswalk light to turn. All these people, alone in their cars…
Hey, cool, thanks, says the kid in the pink housecoat. He confers with his friends a moment. The girl turns to me and says: Actually, sir. We have somewhere else to go instead.
See you, I say, and watch them go.
?
I stand a moment and wait.
That’s when I decide to call my daughter. I miss her. I want her back in my life. I want a daughter again. I pull out my phone and ring her up. She picks up immediately.
Hello Meg.
Hi Dad.
She sounds drunk.
Are you drinking?
Why are you calling me?
I’m calling to say that this is her anniversary.
I know.
This is the fifth anniversary of mom’s death.
I know, Dad! I have a fucking calendar.
I called to say hi.
Hello, Dad.
Hello, Meg.
Why don’t you ever call me when it's not about Mom? Why do you only call this day? This fucking anniversary!
I can call any day you like.
Why haven’t you, Dad?
I don’t know.
I do.
Why’s that, Meg?
Because you’re a fucking coward!
I’m a coward?
You don’t know how to move on, Dad! You don’t know how to live life! You’re stuck. You’re tongue-tied. You were tongue-tied with Mom.
Mom and I had a perfect relationship.
Yeah. OK. If that’s what you say, I suppose I’ll believe it.
Meg…
Yes.
I’m sorry.
That’s not enough.
I never meant to let you down and I let you down. I’m sorry for letting you down.
That’s not enough either, Dad.
OK, fine. How about we start with a simple question…where are you?
I’m in Japan. Where the fuck do you think I am, Dad?
I have no idea. That’s why I asked.
I’m in Tokyo eating sushi. And next stop I'm going to the moon. Where are you, Dad?
I don’t know. I feel like I’ve been wandering in the wilderness and I want to stop wandering. I want to go home.
So do I. I want to go home to the place before any of this ever happened.
I want to be your father again.
I’m tired of all your bullshit lies.
I can tell you the truth. I can tell you that I’m an asshole. I can tell you that I’m lost. I’ve lost the roadmap and I’m wandering. I’m with a woman named Rita, and I’ve been with her almost as long as your mother has been dead. And she and I are not meant to be, and we were never meant to be. I can tell you that I would give anything to be your father again. I always liked how you dressed. Your mother and I were always so proud of you. I still am. Here’s another true thing: I’m looking for serenity. I can’t find it without you.
Well, here’s what I can say, Dad: I’m drunk. I’m still living in New Orleans. I never finished Tulane. I’ve had two abortions and I drink too much. I suppose I love you. You have my number. Maybe next time you can figure out how to reach me on a different day of the year. My birthday, for fuck’s sake! Maybe call me then. Dad, you really let me down. You would have disappointed Mom as well, in time. I’m not surprised her family doesn’t talk to you. Everybody knows it was all your fault. And you were a freak at her funeral, and you never apologized for that, either.
I'm sorry. I apologize.
For what?
For everything.
You’ve got a long way to go before I accept. If I accept.
Please accept my apology.
I’ll talk to you later. I gotta go. I can’t talk any more right now. I need to vomit.
Goodbye, darling.
My daughter hangs up.
The traffic rushes by on the road. Everyone is going somewhere except for me. I’m just wandering. What the hell else am I to do? Tremble and vomit. What else is there to do?
?
From the ashes grows a flower, or so I thought.
Now you’re rhyming again.
No, that’s not true.
Yes it is!
I’m dying again.
Blurt. Blurt.
Pop. Pop. Pop.
?
There’s winter in the air. It’s far colder than it should be this time of year, and all of a sudden I’m frozen to the bone. When the light turns red, I look left and I look right. I pray there aren’t any cars coming to knock me over. When I see all is clear I cross the street over to the restaurant where the limousines are parked and the folks inside are gathered around the feast for Albert. Then, hoping no one will see me, I pass by the restaurant and I just keep walking…
AUTHOR’S NOTE