The Things We Bury - Part 1: In Anticipation of the End of the World [Completed]

Chapter 9: No Requiem (Part 1 of 7)

Humidity had conquered the gray afternoon and heat shimmered on the distant highway.  A summer wind bore down from the coast heralding the rain that would be coming before the day was done.

The air inside the car was frigid from the ceaseless air conditioning.

"You didn't take the exit."  The boy crossed his arms finding little warmth from his body heat, but his T-shirt offered no protection at all from the cold.

"What?"  The father snapped. 

This was why the boy hadn't said, you missed the exit.  Make a neutral statement, not a correction.  The father liked being corrected even less than being questioned.

"So I did," the father said, adjusting his belt and smiling. 

Playing with his belt was an odd habit he had developed at some point in his life.  It was a tell.  Whenever he lied, his hand would make its way to the warn strap of brown leather around his waist.  Wear marks could be seen where the oil from his fingers had turned the deep polished russet to dull tan.

When he was telling a particularly outrageous untruth, his thumb would caress the buckle for good measure.  A chewed nail would trace out the engraving of the ornate "B" on the brass plate.  "B" for Bertrand.  Why his father needed the initial of his first name on display, the boy could never figure out.  It reminded him of when he was four or five and was entranced by the magic of his own name.  It was the first word he learned how to spell and the only one he could easily read.

Ma.  Ma, can I get it?  He would ask recognizing his name on a mug, a keychain, or a baseball cap.  Happy even to get some little object with an "M" stamped on it.  He had long since outgrown the infantile attachment.  Why hadn't his father?  It was something he could never ask.

"Actually, we're not heading home."  He turned his head so the boy would get the full effect of his smile.  It was a smile that charmed people immediately.  It charmed woman into dating him.  Salesmen into giving him a deal.  Bartenders into letting his tab slide.  It was his magic ticket.  But the magic wore off with everyone after a while.  There were only so many times he could use that voucher before the woman realized he was cheating.  So many times he could flash it and say in his good ol' boy way, c'mon cut me a break, before people demanded their money.  So many times that a boss would accept that glorious smile before he fired him for showing up late to work.

"Where are we going then?"

"We're going on a road trip.  You like road trips, don't you?  It'll be just like that time we headed down to the Keys."

"Of course, Dad.  Love 'em." 

The boy hated them.  Especially, with Bertrand.  The trip to Key West was four years ago when he was six.  They slept in a scuzzy motel that smelt like salt and mold.  The vacation ended with a fight between his parents.  Good ol' boy Dad, abandoned them there with all of twelve dollars in his Ma's purse.  Luckily, a family from Maine took pity on them and dropped them off in Jacksonville on their way home.  He sat on his Ma's lap squeezed into the backseat with the family's three kids.

"Is Ma coming?"

"Why would she?"  The smile was gone.  "She's no fun.  It's going to be just you and me.  Two men out having fun.  Excited?"

"Sure am."  He gave it his best Leave it to Beaver delivery.  Sugary optimism, laced with wholesome exuberance.

It had been six months since the last time his father had been around.  Not since the police showed up at the door to deal with the yelling and screaming that some neighbor must have complained about.  He'd shown up at the trailer drunk and demanding that Ma take him back despite the divorce being final for over a year.