The Diner and That Same Old Feeling Again

by Jeff Brown

Table of Contents
Part 4 appears
in this issue.

part 5 of 11

The Funeral, a Ghost and a Plan

“What,” he asked, trying not to sound completely stunned by what his best friend had just said, “did you just say? Big Bird’s dead?”

“Yeah, that’s what I said,” Pete responded. “I got a call from Dolan about three hours ago with the news.”

As Pete talked Tony began to drive as if he were discussing lunch with his mother and not the death of someone he had once known, had once palled around with, had once shared a secret with and still did.

“I went and got me a newspaper and sure as the day is long, there it was,” Pete said. “Calvin’s name was right there, sticking out like a damn sore thumb.”

“You don’t say?” Tony asked.

“I do say,” Pete responded.

“When’s the funeral?”

“Tomorrow,” Pete answered. “Two in the afternoon.”

“Okay, then. I guess I’ll talk to you then,” Tony said. He didn’t wait for Pete to say anything else before hanging up and flipping his cell phone onto the passenger-side seat.

Tony drove. As he did so his mind thought back, just as the other two had done. He was the only one who felt no guilt for saving their own hides. The way he looked at it, they had saved four lives for the price of one lost. Besides, his plan had worked. They told the police Dale had drowned after he went swimming. His body was never found and there was no evidence that could’ve made them look like they had murdered him, which they hadn’t done. They just didn’t try to save him. It wasn’t a crime to save your own skin.

They only problem had been Calvin. He hadn’t agreed with the story at first. He had even tried to argue. But Tony had been convincing on the lake. He became even more convincing when Big Bird said he couldn’t do this; he couldn’t lie about how Dale had died. It was wrong, after all. Tony changed his mind and Calvin’s broken ribs eventually healed. His mouth stayed shut. That’s all that mattered to Tony.

At that moment he didn’t even care that Calvin had died. Part of him was relieved. It was a weight off of his shoulders and he was glad to not have to worry about Calvin possibly changing his mind and singing to the police.

Tony continued to drive along, thinking as he went. He pulled out a cigarette from his breast pocket and placed it between his lips. Tony pushed the car’s lighter in then waited for it to pop back out. When it did he took the lighter, lit his cigarette and placed it back in its spot. He puffed on the cigarette, letting smoke plume upward.

Tony would be at the funeral. He had made a vow. All of them had. He meant to keep his part and show up, just as they all said they would if one of them died. He would be there. That’s for sure. If anything to just make sure neither Dolan nor Pete felt like talking to anyone else about what had happened.

They were sitting at the table in the diner, the two of them were. They had been friends the last time they had seen one another. As far as Calvin could tell he and Dale still were, even after what Dale had just found out. Their had been an awkwardness in their first meeting in fifteen years, as would most old acquaintances being renewed. That was gone, now. So was the resounding guilt Calvin had felt everyday for those same fifteen years. Even in death there was the guilt. Until Dale saw fit to forgive him.

“This might be a little depressing,” Calvin said. “But, do you wanna go to my funeral?”

“Your funeral?”

“Yeah,” Calvin said quickly. “I don’t think I spent too terribly long looking for you. It sure seemed like it, though. But, I believe my funeral is today.”

“When did you die?” Dale asked. “Yesterday?”

Calvin laughed at the question. Dale had not been making a joke but it still struck him as funny.

“If my funeral is today, which I believe it is, then two days ago,” Calvin said then tipped up his coffee cup (which Mrs. Martha had been so kind as to replace for them) and downed the remaining coffee from it. He made a nasty face and shook his head from side to side. “Man, that’s some strong stuff.”

Dale laughed this time. “You get used to it,” he said. “I’ve been drinking it for fifteen years, so it’s safe.”

Dale pulled his shirt forward, peered inside of the hole his neck was occupying then looked back up at Calvin. He pulled his shirt up so Calvin could see his bare chest.

“It can’t be too strong,” he said, “I still don’t have any hair on my chest.”

The two burst out in laughter again. The laughter drew Mrs. Martha’s attention once again. She said nothing, only grunted and went about polishing the silverware on the counter in front of her.

“So, what do you say?” Calvin asked as his laughter died down. “Go to my funeral with me?”

“Sure,” Dale said. “As long as it will get me out of here for a while.”

Again they laughed, not as heartily as before but it was still laughter. It was something neither of them had done in quite a long time.

“Besides,” Calvin added, “Tony, Pete and Dolan will almost certainly be there.”

The smile on Dale’s face fled away, being replaced by a thoughtful frown. “How do you know?” he asked.

“We made a vow,” Calvin said. “When each of us died the remaining ones would attend their funerals. It was kind of a making sure nobody talked kind of deal.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” Calvin said. “But, I’m sure Tony only came up with that because of me. He’s been scared to death that I will go and rat on them ever since he made me lie about your death.”

“So, basically, you’re saying they’ll be there to make sure you are dead and buried?”

“That’s it in a nutshell.”

Dale nodded. “Yeah, I’ll go,” he said. “But don’t ask me to get all dressed up for this, because it ain’t happening.”

Calvin smiled. Dale chuckled. They both stood and walked out of the diner. It was time to go see some old friends.

There were only a handful of people at the funeral for Calvin Stores. Of those there were several of the people from his job, most of whom probably just wanted an afternoon away from the shop. In actuality there were more people there that Calvin either didn’t know or didn’t recall knowing than there were people he actually knew.

The funeral itself was held at the Michell’s Funeral Home. Calvin didn’t expect much more than that. In all honesty Calvin was surprised to see something other than a graveside service where all they had to do was lower his body down low and cover him up. So, the fact that his funeral was inside a building, had an organ playing sweet death music and a preacher (or at least someone presiding over the ceremony that looked like a preacher) giving the final message was all a plus to Calvin.

The big three were there also: Tony, Pete and Dolan. Dolan had arrived first and taken a seat on the back row of fold-up chairs. It was a solid ten minutes before Pete and Tony strolled in together looking like they could have been on a date instead of going to a funeral. They strolled up behind Dolan. Pete started to tap his shoulder but before he could Tony had slapped Dolan in the back of the head.

Dolan stood in a hurry, turning as he did so. His hands were clenched into fists as if he were ready to fight. A scowl covered his face as anger clearly had engulfed him. He opened his mouth to say something then stopped when he saw who it was behind him. The scowl began to fade though a smile never replaced it.

Pete and Tony exchanged handshakes and how are you’s with Dolan. When they were done with the niceties they all sat on the back row with Dolan the furthest in, Tony on the end and Pete in the middle. In better times or under a different set of circumstances that would have been a great moment to play the “who’s-got-a-better-grip” game. It was a game where the person in the middle often times regretted it and their legs just above the knees often wound up with bad bruises and very sore. But under these circumstances the trio sat, quietly, like good little boys and listened to the final rites and the general message the preacher was giving about their friend, Calvin — a person he had never met.

Dale and Calvin stood with their backs to the wall, overlooking the large sanctuary style room. They watched as the few people trickled in and hen the tree they had been waiting for entered, Dolan first then the other two. Dale had even walked by them, breathing on them as he moved to Calvin’s casket. He smiled when Pete let go with a shiver.

Dale peered into the coffin then walked back to where Calvin stood. Once again he let out a cold breath from between his lips. This time Dolan was the one who shivered. He even rubbed his arms trying to warm himself.

“You’re not a bad looking dead lush,” Dale said as he reached where Calvin was standing.

“Ha, ha, very funny,” Calvin responded dryly.

“No, seriously,” Dale said, “for a drunk guy you look pretty good.”

Calvin shook his head. “Pay attention, Dale,” he said as the preacher man began to speak.

Only three people went to the grave site. The preacher on duty looked surprised to see the two trucks pull up and the three men get out. Tony and Pete stood up out of Pete’s old junker. Dolan got out of his black F-150. The three of them walked over to where Calvin’s casket had been placed just moments earlier. They stood and looked at the preacher as if to say ‘let’s get on with it’.

He was an old man, the preacher was. He was completely bald and wore a silver rimmed pair of glasses that made him look like he was very intelligent. Tony thought the guy probably wasn’t that smart to begin with, but the look might help him in some way. Covering the preacher’s body was a dark blue sit with a lighter striped tie collaring his neck. He held a Bible in one very old hand.

“From the ashes we come...” the preacher began.

“Hold on a sec, pops,” Tony interrupted as he raised a hand. He walked up to the preacher and shook his head from side to side. “I think we know how this one ends: From the ashes we come, to the ashes we return. Blah, blah, blah. Say a prayer, shake our hands and buzz off. Can I get an Amen?”

“Amen,” Pete said, as if on cue.

“Let’s just say you did and don’t,” Tony said as he patted the preacher’s face.

“I must pray for the deceased,” the preacher protested.

“Well, you go right ahead and do that,” Tony said. He turned away for a moment, waving his arms in the direction of the rest of the cemetery. “Take your pick, Preacher man. There are a whole lot of dead people just lying around this joint.”

“But...”

Tony cut the preacher’s protest off by placing a finger to his aged lips. He shook his head and frowned.

“Listen, carefully,” Tony said. “Beat yourself a path out of here or you’re gonna need some prayers. Understood?”

The preacher nodded slowly.

“Good. Now, scram.”

Tony pulled his hand from the preacher’s mouth. The preacher did as Tony nodded, gathering his Bible and walking away with his shoulders slouched. From under a tree Dale and Calvin watched Tony’s masterful intimidation of the man of the cloth.

“Nice to see some things just don’t change with time,” Dale said sarcastically.

“Yup,” Calvin responded. “Looks like Tony’s still a grade-A number one asshole.”

“Grade A?” Dale mused.

“Is there any other type?”

As the preacher left Dale and Calvin stepped toward Tony, Pete and Dolan. They brought with them a cool breeze that ran through all three men. Dolan and Pete shivered noticeably though they tried not to. Tony seemed to ignore the chill that rippled his spine. The two ghosts listened quietly as Tony spoke.

“What’s the story?” he asked. “Either of you feel like changing the story?”

“No,” Pete said, quickly.

Dolan shook his head and echoed Pete.

“There’s no need to worry about it now, Tony,” Pete said confidently. “Now that Big Bird’s dead we can all rest a little better at nights.”

“Pete’s right,” Dolan agreed. “I think we all have been living worried about whether or not Calvin would ever change his mind and go tell the truth. His mind is permanently closed.”

“We’re all agreed then?” Tony asked, making sure.

“Dale drowned,” Dolan said flatly. “That’s my story and I’m not changing it.”

“There wasn’t anything we could do to save him, Tony,” Pete said convincingly enough.

Tony smiled a toothy smile. It was a smile of raw satisfaction.

“That’s what I thought,” he said.

Tony clapped Dolan and Pete on their shoulders. The tree of them began walking back toward their trucks, leaving the casket to be buried with Calvin’s body inside.

“How ’bout a beer, boys?” he asked.

“Sounds good to me,” Dolan said.

“Yeah, I could use one right about now,” Pete responded.

“Good,” Tony said, almost excitedly. “The first round’s on me.”

Tony was smiling as he turned back to Pete’s old truck. The smile quickly faded as he saw the preacher approaching.

Jack Wells had been a preacher his entire adult life. He had given thousands of sermons, performed well over a hundred weddings a couple of thousand baptisms. He had also done his fair share — if not more than — of funerals. They were the part of his job, his calling, he hated the most. Still it had to be done. In most cases he was paid one way or another for his services, be it by a family member or a friend. In cases like Calvin Stores he wouldn’t get paid one red cent. Those are what he called charity funerals — ones he did for free with no fanfare or thanks from any family members or friends. He did those funerals strictly out of compassion for the poor soul who had moved on.

In Calvin Stores’ funeral Jack thought he had done an especially good service and to less than twenty people. He had seen the three men on the back row of chairs during the service. At the sight of them he knew they had been the reason he agreed on the charity funeral — if those were this guys friends then there would be no one there to pay for his services.

After arriving at the grave sight Jack waited. He didn’t think anyone was going to show up. When the two pick-up trucks showed up and the three men got out he had developed a pit in his stomach. The pit grew tighter and tighter as they approached. He had no idea that the dark-haired one would tell him to leave without concluding the services. Then to threaten him on top of that — he had some nerve.

Jack had left the three men at the grave sight, just as he had been told to do. He said a quick prayer as he walked away. When he reached his car he turned to look back at the three men. He blinked his eyes and then rubbed them with both hands. He then closed his eyes and shook his head as if trying to clear it.

“Oh, my...” his words trailed off as he looked at the men standing there. Instead of three of them standing at the grave sight there were five. Jack hadn’t seen any other people in the cemetery and no body had passed him as he walked to his car. He didn’t recall seeing the other two men at the funeral home. But, there they were, as plain as day. Then it hit Jack as to what he was seeing.

The three men that had confronted him moments earlier were still talking among themselves as if the other two men weren’t even there. Those three men were alive and well. Living. Breathing. The other two men were different. They looked as normal as the other three but only different in one major way. The other two men looked to be transparent. The other two men looked like they could be ghosts.

Jack’s knees felt as if they were going to come unhinged and drop him to the ground. He grabbed a door handle to steady himself. Jack took a couple of deep breaths, composed himself the best he could then began to walk toward the men — all of them.

Proceed to part 6...