Finding Parker (19 page)

Kenton, Downes, Victoria, one neighbor and I comprised the entire wake.

The value of a person’s life is measured by the amount of people they touch in living it. Based on this belief, I have always further believed a person’s funeral would be a depiction of the perceived value in the life they’ve lived – the means of measure being the people in attendance at the funeral – the touched souls.

For that reason, and that reason alone, I found the funeral of Victoria’s mother to be rather unsettling. Throughout the service, I tried to think of the people who would attend
my
funeral. I made a conscious count of people I was satisfied would attend, and added others which
may
be in attendance. The result was humbling and almost as unsettling as the funeral service itself.

The total amount – six – caused me to feel regret for the life I have lived to date. Although I have attempted and continue to pursue living a life with no regrets regarding my behavior or beliefs, I have a very small circle of people who know me, love me, or have been touched by something I have said or done.

Frustrated and somewhat disappointed with myself, I sat in the service and looked over the small seating area.
Downes, Victoria, Kenton, the deceased, and some unknown neighbor.
With each person, I attempted to do the same – count the people who I believed would be in attendance of
their
funeral. With Kenton and Victoria, I believed the number to be a small one. With the others, I was incapable of guessing accurately. Based on the assumption the unknown persons had a family, I suspected the number to be considerably higher.

As I counted and recounted I began to become saddened by the fact Victoria, Kenton and I had no family. We only had each other. We would be required to develop a family of our own through reproduction, friends, associates, and those we touched through the course of living our lives.

Life is easy. Live it while you’re alive.

Because when you’re gone you won’t have an opportunity.

As the funeral director continued speaking, I held Victoria’s hand. Slowly, I slid my free hand from the armrest of my seat and onto Kenton’s left forearm. As my hand moved toward his wrist, he turned to face me, smiled lightly, and gripped my hand in his. And, as I held the hands of what little family I had, I closed my eyes made a vow.

To begin living life.

While I was alive.

VICTORIA.
I gripped the handrail in my palms as I stared out at the horizon. The light morning breeze blew the smell of the beach into my face, providing me with a feeling of relaxation in an almost magical sense. Slowly it faded away, and with it, my gratification. Eager for its return, I closed my eyes and inhaled softly through my nose.

Crap, that never works.

I will always find the unexpected scent of lilacs filling my nostrils while jogging through the park much more rewarding than forcing my nose into a bouquet and inhaling the same essence. One is encountered unexpectedly, as if it were provided as a gift; and the other taken. Personally, I prefer provision to theft.

Often when there’s scent or soft aroma I enjoy, I’ll attempt to take a shallow breath to savor it even more. Invariably, the scent disappears in my eager effort to inhale it – a simple reminder of the fact that some things happen naturally, and if we attempt to force them, they’ll simply fade away. I believe the natural scents of this earth come as a gift from God, evidence when we need it the most, of his existence. When we need a reminder, he provides. If we attempt to obtain them through coercion, we question his existence; and they disappear.

“There’s a fresh pitcher of tea here, and I must say it’s even better than the last,” Kenton’s voice was soft, almost as if he were speaking to a child.

I loosened my grip on the handrail and closed my eyes, hoping for the scent of the beach to return. As I listened to the seagulls singing their songs along the beach, I became one with them, flying over the ocean without a single thought. My wings spread, the soft breeze keeping me afloat above all of the others, I soared.

“Are you hungry yet?” Parker asked.

I opened my eyes and gripped the handrail tightly for a brief second as I took an aggravated shallow breath. As I released my grip, I turned to face the table where Kenton, Parker, and now Downes were seated. Downes smiled as I looked up. Kenton and Parker’s faces were both filled with signs of wonder.

My mother began dying a slow death, one I was certain to be much more rapid than typical, the day my father died. I further believe a part of her died each and every day she lived without him. He was, at her admittance, her only love. She had never loved before, and certainly didn’t after. In retrospect, the painkillers she became reliant upon provided her ability to eliminate the pain associated with his absence from our lives.

As time passed, I grew older and she became more tolerant to the effects of the pills, requiring more of them to provide shelter from the pain. Her realization of my growth was a constant reminder that one day I too may fall in love, and move forward with my life, leaving her in pain and alone. Her death was inevitable, not a matter of
if
, but a matter of
when
.

I feel sorrow for my mother no longer being in my life, but I am not sorry she has moved on. I am of the belief she can now, in mind and possibly in spirit, be with the man she loved – living a life she would be incapable of living on this earth.

“Are you hungry yet?” Parker asked again.

“You two are driving me fucking nuts,” I snapped.

“Who? These two?” Parker asked as he motioned to Downes and Kenton.

“No, Parker. You and Kenton.
Jesus.
Victoria, do you want this? Victoria do you want that?  Can I get you anything? Do you need anything? How do you feel? Did you sleep well last night? No. No. No. No. Great. And not exactly,” I said as I began walking their direction, shaking my head in disbelief as I approached.

“It’s because we care,” Parker sighed.

“And I
know
you care. I do. You don’t have to prove it. My mother’s dead, and I’m okay with it. Can you two be okay that I’m okay? Kenton, you’re mother’s dead. Parker, yours is too. But I’m not coddling you, trying to force you to drink another gallon of tea hoping it will drown the pain,” I rolled my eyes and flopped into the chair across the table from where Parker and Kenton were seated.

“Are you in pain?” Parker asked.

“No.
Jesus fucking Christ.
I’m not in pain, Parker. I’m the opposite, I’m in love. I want to hug and kiss and lay with you in my arms, not wallow in non-existent grief. Please, for the love of God,
stop
. Accept the fact that I believe, and I truly do,” frustrated, I paused and ran my hands through my hair.

“My mother is in a better place. I know that sounds cheesy or cliché or whatever, but I
believe
that. I don’t believe it because it’s easy or because it’s a way for me to
get by
without coping with her death. I believe it because I believe it – deep down in my core of beliefs. Or whatever.
Fuck.
How about Downes and I go make you two grieving pricks a sandwich and get you another gallon of tea?” as I finished speaking, I realized I was standing again.

Parker and Kenton’s faces filled with shock, they sat with their mouths agape. Downes sat quietly, unsuccessfully fighting an urge to smile. Still rather frustrated, but feeling quite satisfied with my speech, I smiled, tilted my head, and tossed my hair. As I alternated glances between Kenton and Parker, I gripped the edge of the table with my hands and raised my eyebrows slowly.

Silence.

“Based on your silence, I assume we’re done with this discussion?” I asked as my eyes darted back and forth between Kenton and Parker.

Kenton stood slowly, rubbing his lower back as he appeared to wince in pain.

As he opened his arms, he smiled, “My back is killing me, come here and give me a hug, my dear,”

I stepped to where he stood and wrapped my arms around him. As he held me in his arms, a light citrus scent of his unidentifiable cologne filled my nostrils. He always smelled the same, clean and soft. After a long moment, he leaned away, kissed the top of my head, and pressed his hands against my shoulders.

“I love you, Victoria,” he said, smiling as he finished speaking.

“I love you too,” I replied.

And I truly did.

I lowered my face into his chest and allowed him to hold me again. I had truly come to love Kenton. He was an unselfish man with unselfish ways. According to Parker, Kenton had lived a miserable life of self-importance years ago. Now, however, no signs of his former life remained. His allowing Parker and me to come and go from his home as we wished provided me with a sense of satisfaction I had never previously known. As my relationship with Parker developed, Kenton’s home had slowly become my home away from home. Now, it seemed to be my
only
home. The view of the ocean was magnificent, and I frequently found comfort staring out into its endlessness.

As he held me in his arms, he rocked back and forth lightly on his heels. Slowly, my frustration faded away. Lost in the comfort of Kenton holding me, my breathing became shallow and without effort.

And my nostrils flared as the scent of the beach returned.

PARKER.
Although I viewed my relationship with Victoria as being without fault, I found myself wanting more. The desire was not driven by greed or feeling of necessity for something I
wasn’t
receiving, but solely by my love for her and the gratification I felt in – and out of – her presence. I was beginning to wonder if the feelings which would have developed naturally were accelerated by the absence of her mother, and Victoria’s need for someone to accompany her through the course of merely living life.

Either way, I continued to feel as if what I was providing Victoria was insufficient. Feelings of inadequacy filled me in Victoria’s absence; and in her presence, I was fulfilled. I had truly come to believe living a life without her was not a viable option. Incapable of seeing much, if any, benefit from continuing at the pace we were currently living our life of love, I opted to sit with the man who had proven to have all of the answers, and speak freely.

“But I don’t want you to chastise me for my thoughts. I want to speak until I’ve exhausted myself before you chime in with whatever your beliefs may be, good or bad,” I sighed.

“Agreed, you have my word. Is everything okay, son?” Kenton asked.

“Yes, quite alright. Just let me think for a minute, I’m flustered and nervous,” I muttered as I pressed myself deeper into the loveseat.

I glanced around the room and thought of how to begin. The comfort I felt sitting in this room was unbelievable, especially considering the first time I entered it, I was afraid to even sit down. The same room where Kenton and I had shared our first sandwich together had become a second home for Victoria and me. Our invasion into Kenton’s home, albeit invited, caused me to consider recommending he replace his front door with a revolving one.

Kenton leaned into the arm of the overstuffed chair which was, in my mind at least,
his.
Everything else in the living quarters of his home had, over time, become
ours.
Looking around the room, gratitude for what our relationship had become filled me, and I smiled.

As I wallowed nervously in the seat, I remembered my grandmother’s advice.

If you have something you feel a need to say, simply say it. Anything more causes you to look foolish and indecisive.

“I want to marry Victoria,” I blurted.

That didn’t quite come out like I had planned.

Kenton jumped from his seat as if he’d been electrocuted.

Wait a minute, I need to back up, let me explain.

Almost immediately, he covered his mouth with his hand and began to bounce up and down. He resembled a four year old boy who desperately needed to pee and couldn’t find a place to do so. As he continued to bounce, his mouth still covered by his hand, I began to wonder if he was alright.

“Well, say
something.
Are you alright?” I asked as I sat up in the loveseat.

Instantly, he pulled his hand away from his mouth, “Can I speak? You’re done? Open discussion time?”

I inhaled deeply, and spoke upon exhaling, “I uhhm. I suppose...”

“Yes,” I said nervously.

“Say it again, slowly,” he said as he held his visibly shaking hands at his side.

“Say it again? What?” I asked, confused.

“What you said about Victoria. Say it again, please, slowly,” he said excitedly.

Now feeling more nervous than before, I wondered if he misunderstood what I had previously said. I lowered myself into the seat and cleared my throat.

“I, uhhm. I want to marry Victoria,” I said softly.

He began to bounce again.

And then he screamed a blood curdling scream.

“Downes! Get in here, we have an announcement. Parker has an announcement. Parker
and I
have an announcement. Hurry the fuck up!” he screamed.