'Urned'

Chapter III

The next morning I get up super early and I do not even bother to eat breakfast. I hop in the Jeep and I am going to return the urn to its rightful owner. I remember that he was very eager to get rid of it, but I feel that I at least deserve an explanation of why he let me have it. Why didn't he spread the ashes in a river or something? Isn't that what a lot of people do? The thought of owning an urn does not bother me; it's the fact that ashes are inside; a stranger's ashes.

I pull onto the familiar dirt road and up the long driveway. I shut off the vehicle and sit for a minute. I should probably think about what I am going to say. I want to let this old man just have a piece of my mind, but I know better than to do that. I can be very loud and scary if I want to be, but I really don't want him to just slam the door in my face. I march up to the creepy looking house and am about to ring the doorbell when the huge wooden door swings open.

"Ugh! It's you again", says the old man with an extremely disgusted look on his face.

I don't know who peed in his corn flakes this morning. I know that if I open my mouth, it is not going to be nice words that exit. My mother always told me that if I don't have anything nice to say, then I shouldn't speak at all. So instead, I hold the urn out towards him.

He takes it and turns it around in his hands. A smile is tugging at the edges of his lips. I can tell this is a familiar feeling to him. "My name is tom", he says, a little more cheery this time; "and you are.....?"

I blink. He is asking me such a simple questions and yet I don't want to answer. I open my mouth enough to say, "Chantal", then I clamp it shut again.

Tom opens his mouth and then closes it again as though he isn't quite sure about what to say. Tom starts again, "well then Chantal, I bet you are here for an explanation."

Well duh I am! I keep this thought in my head and I let Tom continue. He puts his head down as he talks, "the ashes belong to my girlfriend, or I should say ex girlfriend now. She moved here illegally from Pakistan. I tried my hardest to convince her to get a green card, but she wouldn't do it. We lived together for 56 years before she died of a heart attack. I was honestly going to call the cops, but then I remembered that she doesn't exist according to the U.S government.

I stare at him blankly, "that doesn't explain the urn though."

"I know", said Tom, "I took it upon myself to cremate her. One day I put her body in the trunk of my car and I drove to this little cabin in the woods that she always loved."

Tom hung his head in shame, but continued the story "I am ashamed that I did this, and it was a brutal thing to do, but I laid her body in the outdoor furnace and lit it on fire."