My Father's Best Man

Chapter 18

"You wore that to the wedding?"

"... Yeah."

My father noticed the green jacket on me was too short.

"Let's go to the mall next week. I need to return some wedding registry stuff. You can pick out a new suit there."

"...Okay."

We were in the church, waiting for the service to begin. There was barely anyone in the congregation. Besides family members and close family friends, there were only a few volunteers in the hallway.

Justine was there. I didn't talk to her. I didn't ask her about her date. Truthfully speaking, I really didn't care. If she enjoyed her date, I would probably think less of her.

I didn't play the trumpet this time. My father didn't ask me to. When he came to my room the day before, he did stare at my trumpet case for a long time. It wasn't until after he shared his eulogy that I understood why.

He had extra time to tell his story because of the unexpected rain. The rain delayed Uncle Ron's burial time, so the service went on a bit longer than we originally planned.

Everyone knew Uncle Ron dropped out of med school, but no one knew why. He was gifted in a lot of things, but what he really wanted to do was to become a musician. Back then, their family was poor, so playing music was not something plausible; taking the scholarship to become a doctor was the obvious thing to do. He did exactly that and carried on with his life.

But when it was my father's turn to go to college, the family was doing a lot better, and my father was also the youngest, so he had the option to choose. Uncle Ron probably resented my father for that.

My father came to that conclusion after Uncle Ron dropped out of his school. According to Uncle Abe, it was during Uncle Ron's last semester, literally a few exams before he was going to graduate, he threw down his pencil and walked straight out. He started fighting with my grandparents a lot. He would yell at them, even cursed a few times. There would be times where he would disappear for weeks, and they would find him in a different state, literally hundred miles away. When the cops asked him how he got there, he would tell them, "I walked."

His story made my heartache. I didn't know him well, but the blood that we shared was still hurting inside. And now, only broken memories of him from his brothers remained.

My parents tried to set him up at their wedding. My father tried to introduce my mom's maid of honor to him, but he declined. He lived a solitary life until the very end.

***

We loaded his casket into the hearse, and my father broke us off for lunch. Rain was still pouring hard, but most of the people here were family, so they were going to stay no matter what.

I didn't eat. I went to sit in the chapel alone, wanting to sort through my thoughts. My trip, my graduation, my childhood, my family, everything was all a bit jumbled up.

"There you are, Michael!"

Pastor Debbie found me hiding in the first row.

"Did you eat yet?"

She walked over, and I shook my head. I thought me going to get lunch would be my excuse to get away from her. But she sat next to me and had her hand on my lap, preventing me from walking away.

"I tried to talk to you after the wedding, but couldn't find you."

I didn't respond. I really didn't want to talk to her right now...

"I still remember you playing that song, here, on the stage. So young back then... Now all grown up. You know why your mom loves that song so much?" I shook my head.

"Well, as you know, your mother worries a lot... When she was pregnant with your sister, she was... having some pregnancy depression. She asked me, 'How can I bring a child into this world when this world is such a mess?' I didn't have a good answer for her back then. Then that song, the second verse, played on the radio. 'How sweet to hold a newborn baby, and feel the pride and joy he gives, but greater still the calm assurance: This child can face uncertain day because he lives.' "

Pastor Debbie looked proud sharing that story.

That was an interesting story, but it wasn't interesting enough for me to suffer another second with her.

"Oh! This is why I wanted to talk to you. Your mother gave me this note before she passed. She told me to burn it after. But it was too beautiful; I simply couldn't."

Pastor Debbie handed me a folded note.

"I'm gonna go get another piece of pie. You should come before they're all gone."

She stood, ready to walk away, then she quickly turned back.

"Oh, and Michael! Don't drink so much..."

She was gone after that. The note she gave me was a hand written letter from my mother:

Dear Debbie,

I am writing this to you to ask you to do a big favor for me. I know I am going to be with the Lord soon. Though I wish I could be with my family longer, I know God is good, and His plan is greater than mine. I know Jennifer and Michael are going to be fine. They'll grow up and have families of their own. But Robert I worry so... We've been together since college. He is not the type of person to reach out for anything. He needs a partner, someone who can speak out for him. There's a wonderful sister here in the church, Grace Jenkins. If it's not too much to ask, please introduce them to each other. I think they'll be a wonderful fit.

Immanuel,

Faye

Those were her words... "Us kids will be fine." Perhaps one of them, but the other one was definitely screwed...

I was angry... I couldn't control my shaking fist, and tears crept up on my face without me knowing it. She was the reason for all this! She was the reason I was mad at my dad! It was irrational, but I was angry at my dead mother!

"Fuck you! Fuck you! And fuck you, God! Fuck you and your sick sense of humor! Fuck you planning our lives! You're dead! You're not here anymore! Why are you still controlling our lives! Fuck! Fuck you! Fuck it all!"

I didn't say any of it out loud... Everything was in my head. It seemed like I skipped over the denial stage when she was gone and had anger and depression on a loop. I couldn't move on to acceptance, but I knew that was what I should...

"Michael. They're packing up the food. You want any?"

My father waited for me by the entrance. I quickly wiped away my tears.

"Yeah... I'm coming."

I tucked my mother's note inside my pocket and walked over to him. I should move on...

I should at least apologize... Perhaps I should just start talking to him, or at least try...

"... Hey, Dad. You think you can take me home to pick up my trumpet real quick?"

"... Yeah. Yeah."

My phone buzzed. It wasn't from April or Brooke. I thought it was from Casey calling me about my truck, but it was from Fulton.

"Going to CalArts this Fall."

Then another text:

"Where you going?"

I thought about it, then I texted back:

"Boulder."

-The End-