Tears on a Casket (Short Story)

Sheets of icy rain pattered on the car as it pulled up to a stop light. The haze reduced visibility to a point where only the most skilled drivers felt confident in navigating the twisting, pothole-filled roads of Portland. Luckily, Oliver, who was by now unfamiliar with driving in this weather, was in the backseat of his Uber, peering out onto the roads he only vaguely remembered. Hawthorn. Glisan. He remembered navigating these streets when he learned how to drive. But they felt so foreign to him now.

The radio was playing a live broadcast from the Oregon Public Broadcasting station, reporting on the latest lineup of classical concerts to hit the region in the next month. The windshield wipers swiped the rain away loudly as a car pulled up next to them.

“First time in Portland?” The driver said. Oliver looked up, snapped out of his wandering thoughts. The driver was staring at him through the rearview mirror.

“No,” Oliver said quietly. He turned and looked back out the window. The light turned green, and the car smoothly took off.

“So you’ve been to the rose city before?”

“I grew up here,” Oliver said reluctantly. “Haven’t been back in a while.”

“What’s a while?”

Oliver resisted the urge to roll his eyes as he turned back to the driver. He kept looking between the rearview mirror and the road, expecting his life story, or at least a response.

“A long time.”

“Ah, there’s something magical about this place that keeps bringing people back,” the driver continued. Oliver just nodded, turning back to stare out the window. “People call New Mexico the Land of Entrapment, but really this is the city that keeps pulling people back.”

“Like a sucking void,” Oliver said quietly, locking eyes with a man who was pushing a cart full of his belongings against the sheets of water, his overcoat soaked and visibly heavy. He wasn’t sure if the driver heard him or not, because he continued.

“I left Portland about seven years ago,” the driver continued. “Decided I wanted to check out the Big Apple. Turns out I’m more of a rose guy than an apple lover.” Oliver subtly glanced at his phone. “Couldn’t stay away from this place. I knew I’d have to come back eventually, but I grew up here too. Went to Gresham High. Where did you go?”

“A private school,” Oliver replied.

“Ah, must have been a great education. I went to college at Mount Hood Community College…” Oliver navigated to the Uber app. It told him they were three minutes from his destination. He sighed with relief. “Didn’t work out. Didn’t help me in New York either. So I came back, moved in with my folks, and now I’m here doing this. But I love being an Uber driver. I love being my own boss, make my own hours. If I don’t feel like working, I just don’t! And with the tight streets here, Uber drivers are primed to succeed here in Pee-Dee-Ex.”

“Do people really call it PDX?”

“Oh yeah, that’s kinda our identity here now. Didn’t you see it when you came into the airport?”

“I know the airport’s code, I just didn’t know people really took it that far.”

“Oh yeah, you’d be hard-pressed to find an influencer who doesn’t have PDX in their handle.”

“Sounds bougie.”

“I think it’s endearing. So what brings you back?”

“You can just drop me off here,” Oliver said, pointing up the road and to the right. The driver slowed down and pulled up next to one of the many cars that lined the road.

“This park?” He craned his neck to try to see over the cars, then he looked at his map. “Oh.”

Oliver sat in the car, his heart racing, his mind moving a thousand miles per hour. He stared at the towering trees that were largely obscured in the hazy mist of the winter rains.

He didn’t know if he wanted to do this. No, he definitely didn’t want to do this. His body wouldn’t let him go. He couldn’t force himself out into the drizzle that was extra appropriate for a day like today.

“You sure this is the right place? Maybe I should take you to the brewery up the road…”

“No,” Oliver said. “I’m good.” He pulled his umbrella from the floor and started to open the door.

“What, an umbrella?” The driver said. “You’re a Portlander.”

“Not anymore,” Oliver said. “Thanks for the ride.” He opened the door and popped the umbrella up over the car so he could get out and stay dry. He slammed the door behind him and stood on the sidewalk as the car drove away.

He could see a crowd of black umbrellas in the distance walking up the path. He started up the old cobblestones through the large iron gates, following the group. More people filtered into the wooded area behind him. He stayed back from the large group, he didn’t want to interact with any of them, but they were walking so slowly. He approached as close as he dared, but stayed on the periphery looking through the forest of umbrella poles under the nearly solid canopy of black nylon. Through the black grove, he could see their destination: a centralized pergola, tall, covered in what looked like wisteria vines, but Oliver couldn’t be sure because they had lost all of their leaves. A white event tent was set up underneath it to protect the slowly growing crowd gathered underneath.

“Ollie?” Someone yelled from behind him. He ignored it and pressed on. It was better to do so. But they persisted. “Ollie, is that you?” The crowd in front of him stopped and turned. Just as he could feel their eyes land on him, he turned to see who was calling his name. Then, something solid hit him hard, causing him to take a step back.

“I knew it was you!” said the person who was clinging onto him. He patted her back mildly affectionately as he regained his balance. She pulled herself away, wiping a tear from her streaming blue eyes.

“Alice,” Oliver said, smiling. “It’s good to see you.”

“It’s good to see you, too.” She brushed her bushy brown hair that seemed nearly unmanageable away from her face as she took a deeper look at him. “I didn’t think you’d come. When you didn’t return my calls…”

“Yeah. It wasn’t because I didn’t want to, believe me. I just…I didn’t know if I was going to be able to come.”

“Why?” She hadn’t come with an umbrella, a true Portlander, so she stood close to Oliver so she could stay relatively dry.

“It’s complicated.”

“I’ve missed you so much,” she said. She pulled Oliver back into a hug. He held her tightly, a little tighter than he thought he would. The sense of familiarity and comfort came washing back over him. He felt like a little kid again. “C’mon,” she said, letting go and putting an arm around his back, leading him further into the cemetery.

They walked side by side with the umbrella between them. She was a couple of inches taller than he was on a normal day, but because she was wearing heels, she was several more inches taller. Her arm around his shoulders was tight and commanding, driving him to keep moving forward to the part of the park that made his stomach drop.

“We’re expected to sit at the front,” Alice said as they drew closer to the crowd.

“Do I have to?”

“Yes, you’re family. Besides, I need you there. It’s been so hard the past week. And the past month. I’ve been doing it all…I need you here with me.” She squeezed his shoulder tighter and he put an arm around her shoulder in response.

They reached the center of the grove where the crowds were gathering. It was sheltered underneath the tent so Oliver put his umbrella away as Alice pulled him into the center, dragging him by his hand. They slid into the first row of seats and Oliver let out a sigh. His eyes fell onto the casket in the center of the crowd, immediately in front of him and Alice. The sleek black material was streaked with rainwater. There was a leak in the center of the ceiling of the tent that dripped right onto the center of the casket like a slow stream of tears. Surrounding the casket were dozens of bouquets of roses, all different colors.

Oliver was consumed by the incessant dripping as the service began. At Alice’s direction, he stood when he needed to, sat when he was supposed to, and muttered the group prayers in autopilot. But his concentration stayed on the drips of water sliding off of the sleek casket. He couldn’t let himself drop that concentration, couldn’t let himself shift his attention to what was actually happening in front of him. He couldn’t absorb what he was sure was a finely-crafted eulogy Alice delivered.

He felt a squeeze on his hand accompanied by a slight shake. He blinked a pool of tears that had built up in his eyes, sending them sliding down his cheeks, and looked around. The crowd was mostly gone, the man who led the service had left, and Alice was staring intently at him. As she pulled him to his feet, he noticed the casket had been lowered into the ground. She led him in throwing a pile of dirt onto the casket. They stood there for another minute.

“Did Felix come?” asked Oliver, wiping the tear streaks from his cheeks. He could feel dried salt from previous tears down his face. Alice shook her head.

“I doubt he even knows. Anyway, we should go. I’m hosting the wake at the house. You’re coming, right? I need you to.”

“Yeah, I’ll be there.”

“You can ride with me. It’ll take some time for people to get there. I could use your help getting some last minute things taken care of.”

They pulled up to the Cromwell manor twenty minutes later, while the rain continued to fall. Oliver knew it wouldn’t stop for another four months or so. It was one of the reasons he left. As Alice pulled into the driveway on the left side of the house, Oliver stared up at the beautifully crafted structure. Victorian, built in 1885 by one of the local architects. It was a muted blue color with white trim. The small porch at the front door still had the old swinging bench that his parents installed when he was a child. Overall, the house looked like it had been neglected for the past few years. Not that it looked decrepit, but the siding looked like it could use a refresher, the trim could use a good sanding and a new coat of paint, and the roof tiles looked about ready to be replaced. This was definitely not how his father liked to keep things, but he supposed this was inevitable, especially recently.

“Aren’t you coming?” Alice said. She had gotten out of the car and stuck her head back in to pull Oliver from his contemplation.

“Yeah.” He stepped out of the car and joined Alice on the front porch where they could get out of the rain.

The house was just as he remembered it. He left his coat and umbrella at the designated area next to the front door. The hooks his father had installed for each member of the family some time ago were still there. Alice hung her coat in her slot, and Oliver followed suit. Felix’s, his mother’s and father’s remained empty.

The little slots for shoes and the umbrella stand he remembered from so long ago were still there. In fact, the furniture hadn’t changed at all. The couch set they bought in the early two-thousands was still arranged in the same spot around the fireplace, the long table in the dining room was still positioned next to the hutch that held the fine china his parents used to use for entertaining.

“Can you help me in the kitchen for a minute?” Alice said as she walked toward the back of the house.

“Sure.” Oliver tore his eyes away from a very old picture of the entire family on the wall and followed her into the kitchen.

There, she was taking platters out of the fridge and sliding them into the oven, which was warming up. She instructed him to turn the burners on and get the massive pots of soup heating. Soon, the mouth-watering aroma of food filled the air. A warmth that was absent in the cold house began to fill a void Oliver didn’t know he had.

“The house could use some work,” he commented as he stirred a creamy butternut squash soup.

“Yeah, I know. I just haven’t been able to do anything about it. I was going to this summer but then dad got sick and I’ve been taking care of him. And before I knew it, sunshine season had passed and it’s just been too wet to do anything outside.”

“Maybe I can come back next summer and help.”

“I’d like that. I barely get to see you anymore.”

Oliver nodded. “Did you make this? It smells amazing.”

“I did. I made all of the food.”

“Shut up. How did you have time?”

“Well, you know, my time has freed up a little bit.”

“But the funeral planning.”

“It was surprisingly easy. As soon as dad knew he was going to pass, he started the process of getting everything in order.”

Oliver chuckled. “Of course he did.”

“So really, I just had to call the places he told me to and execute everything. It went smoothly.”

“That’s lucky.”

“Well, with the shit show that happened after mom passed, I think he wanted to make sure I didn’t have to struggle to get things sorted out on my own. Like he did.”

“I’m sorry. I should have been here earlier.”

“It’s okay. I get it.”

“It’s just hard to get away. It’s not always up to me when I can go.”

“Your job?”

“No, that’s not the issue. Brandon doesn’t like it when I leave town.”

Alice scoffed. “Why not?”

“I dunno.”

“Doesn’t he trust you?”

“I’m sure he does. I mean, we’ve been married for years. I haven’t done anything to lose that

trust.”

“Then what’s the issue?”

Oliver shrugged. “No clue. So, no word from Felix?”

Alice rolled her eyes again. “Oh yeah, he’s been in constant communication and has been the model brother.”

“Ah, so radio silence?”

“I keep paying his phone bill. I figured if he ever wants or needs to call me, he’ll be able to.”

“If he even still has his phone.”

Alice’s eyes widened.

“I didn’t think of that. I hope he still has it.”

“I’m just kidding, I’m sure he does.”

“Help me set out the dishes, will you?”

Oliver followed Alice to the dining room where they started pulling the fine china from the hutch and setting it out. She had already cleared out the chairs from around the table and had placed them strategically around the house so people could sit.

“He still gets his mail here,” she continued. “We got an urgent care bill for him a few months ago.”

“Why did he go?”

Alice shrugged. “It didn’t say. You should know that.”

“True. Did you pay it?” She gave a guilty smile. “Alice.”

“What? I don’t want collections coming after him. You work for a hospital, you should know how crazy they can get.”

“I work for a nonprofit hospital and I don’t have much patient contact, unless they catch one of the big nasty bugs, but even then, I have no interaction with the medical billing department.”

“Well, at least his bills tell me he’s still here in Portland. And that he’s alive. So that’s good.”

“Where is he staying?”

“Where does he ever stay?”

“At a friend’s house.”

“Ever since he was in high school.”

“Does he even know dad’s gone?”

“I called him right after I called you. No answer of course. So I left a message, texted him, and sent him a message on just about every social media account I could find.”

“If you ever find him, you should secretly install the stalker app on his phone.”

“What’s that?”

“It’s this app me and Brandon and some of our closest friends use. I’m sure it’s main purpose is to track your kids, but we use it to see where everyone is so that we can know if they’ll be late to stuff. Super useful. I don’t have to keep calling people to find out where they are and how much longer they’ll be.”

“That sounds creepy. Did Brandon convince you to put it on your phone?”

“No, one of our friends. I think. I don’t know, it was so long ago. But it helps. One time, Brandon lost his phone in Atlantic City and we were able to track it down. Found it under a bench.”

“That’s good.”

The doorbell rang. Alice’s head shot up.

“Shit,” she said. “They’re here already? Quick, start putting the food out.” She started toward the door. “The soups and the big bowl of salad can go at the front, then just start throwing the rest wherever you can fit it!” She called from the foyer.

Oliver obliged. He needed to keep busy. He needed to keep his mind moving. To keep him from thinking of the reason he was there. Just get through it, he kept telling himself. Just a few hours. Then you can go back to your room and soon you’ll be home.

From the dining room, Oliver could see his Uncle Bob and his wife Jane walking into the living room. Bob was holding a large picture of Oliver’s father and an easel, and Jane followed with several bouquets of flowers.

“These are so beautiful,” she was saying as Bob set the picture up in the far corner of the room where it would both be out of the way and well in sight. She smelled the mixture of flowers; roses, carnations, lilies, and a variety of others Oliver couldn’t identify. “He would have loved these.”

Oliver scoffed. He knew, as did the rest of the family, including Uncle Bob and Aunt Jane, that his dad hated heavily scented flowers. The stargazer lilies had such a violent scent that assaulted Oliver’s nostrils in the dining room twenty feet away, overpowering the food Alice had no doubt spent countless hours preparing. His dad would have hated it and commented on how there were many more flowers he’d prefer to be around. They were out of place on this dark and drizzly day; they were springtime flowers. Where did she even get them this time of year?

“Alice, there’s no fire lit!” Aunt Jane announced as she started placing the flowers around the portrait. “I’ll have your Uncle Bob do it.”

“Thanks!” Alice called from the other room. Oliver detected the slight tone of annoyance in her voice, but doubted Aunt Jane did.

The first of the actual guests showed up shortly after Oliver had finished setting the food out and piled the silverware on the table. Before he knew it, the first floor of the house was full of mourners eating and sharing stories of his parents. It was hard to hear. He felt estranged, largely because he was, and couldn’t relate to many of the later stories. When talk turned to the last few months of his dad’s life came up, he was glad to not have been around for that. The thought of being there with someone who wouldn’t remember who he was, who was wasting away would have been too hard for him.

It wasn’t long before people started asking him about himself. Specifically, old family friends wanted to know where he’d been all these years, why he missed his mother’s funeral, and why he came to this one.

“I was able to get away from work,” he said for about the fifth time that hour.

“And they wouldn’t let you leave for your mom’s funeral?”

“I wasn’t working then. I was in school. It was finals, and I couldn’t afford a cross-country flight.” It was mostly the truth.

“And now you’re a big shot hospital executive?” One of the family friends, a woman named Lisa, had always been critical of Oliver. She was one of the few who knew he had run away to Boston, transferred schools, for a man that would eventually be his husband.

“Who told you that?”

“Oh, someone over there,” she said, waiving her hands vaguely toward he kitchen. “I think it was your Auntie Jane. Said you couldn’t get away because your work was more important than your mom’s funeral.”

“Auntie Jane doesn’t know the whole story, seeing as we never talk.” Oliver’s tone was a bit more curt than he had originally meant it to be, but what he really wanted to say was Auntie Jane needed to shut the hell up.

“Well, no, I’m not a hospital executive.”

“Then what is it you do all the way over in Boston?”

“I work for a nonprofit hospital.”

“Doing?”

“I’m the infectious disease epidemiologist.”

“You’re gonna have to explain that to me sometime, my brain is not as big as some people’s.”

“Uh….”

“We have hospitals here, you couldn’t do that job here?”

“Oh, Alice!” Oliver said as his sister walked by with a freshly-filled water pitcher. “Do you need help with that?”

She must have seen the pleading look in his eyes, for her eyes flicked between Lisa and her brother.

“Please, I think we need more mineral water from the basement.”

“Excuse me,” Oliver said to Lisa before stealing away to follow Alice.

“Thank you,” he said in a hushed whisper as they filtered through the crowd.

“I came as soon as I saw Lisa cornering you.”

“I’m so tired of people asking about my life and why I’ve been gone.”

“I should’ve warned you. Aunt Jane has been an over-productive rumor mill for the past couple of years. I think retiring and selling her consignment store made her bored.”

“She’s such a bitch.”

“I have some booze in the liquor cabinet in the kitchen if you want,” she muttered as they slid into the dining room to put the pitcher back in its place.

“Thank god.”

“And some of the good coffee brewing in the kitchen. I know you’ve been avoiding the Folger’s I put out..”

“You’re the literal best.”

“I know.”

“How’d you get away with serving Folgers?”

“Slapped a different label on it. They apparently can’t tell the difference. C’mon.”

As they walked into the hallway that led to the kitchen, the front door opened. The porch light lit the individual on the front step eerily as the sun dipped even further below the horizon. Alice and Oliver stopped and looked toward the newcomer.

He took his soaked and well-worn shoes off at the front, just like everyone else, and picked them up. Slamming the door behind him, only the people who were standing near the door noticed him. He grabbed the pair of shoes someone had stuck in his cubby and tossed them to the floor. He took his overcoat off and hung it on the hook that was positioned farthest form the door, the shortest.

Oliver hardly recognized him. His hair was longer and more matted than it had been the last time he had seen him, and he was thinner. Much thinner. But the glasses and the slightly crooked nose were unmistakable. It was Felix.