Bullet Quarterly: Vol. 4, Fall (Part 1)

Page 1


The Keepsake July 24, 2014 Dad died before the bars closed this morning. I was driving down 95, thinking of Mom with her sassy brown eyes, mile-marker 113, when my brother called. I get why Dad couldn't wait for me. Moonlight on Lake Marion, tractor-trailers drafting past me, idle diesels chattering while their drivers doze at the rest area. I can't close my eyes. Sleep feels too much like death. I drive through the night, though there's no longer a need. Faded faces, smiles parade past; it's quite the party on the other side. Miles like memories slip by. Little Georgia doe minding two fawns, feeding on forbs heavy with dew, her alert and curious eyes reflect my headlights, but she stands her ground. Hunger trumps fear. Dad taught me to shoot Granny's .22, cook venison stew in a cast iron pot. Life now: neatly wrapped in plastic. Distant, detached. Immersed in silence amid the impersonal din of everyday life. Orion plays peek-a-boo with cottonball clouds. The black sky blanches. "Welcome to the Sunshine State" sits midway over St. Mary's River. Dawn paints bleeding salt marsh rainbows; bees raid the garbage cans at the welcome center. An hour's nap, then breakfast: good Southern grits. Shade grows rare. Ron is still at the funeral home. His handshake is the same, warm and caring. But corporate calls the shots now. Shabby hoping to be chic makes me shudder. My boss's son was laid to rest from this room. Understated elegance, then. Robbie and I water-skied at the same spot on the Intracoastal. He was thrown from the boat onto an oyster bed and bled out. Half the town had been here to say goodbye. Then. Now, the new funeral director jiggles her bare buns in a black thong under a short orange dress. I miss Diane and wonder if this is the new business casual. I know what Dad would have said, but I can't find my smile. When I drop off his suit and shoes, his favorite hat and his bottle of Jack, she says with collagen-enhanced lips that she'll take care of Dad’s booze personally. I bet she will.

Bullet Quarterly College of William and Mary Wednesday, October 15, 2014

(Part 1 of 2)


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