I would like to thank my friend Randi, for her generosity, and her editing skills. She turns my scribbles into something that is at least legible. Thank you Randi.
It seemed strange pulling into this driveway. It had been over ten years since I was there last. Shutting off the engine, I leaned back in the seat and stretched. It had been a long drive and I was feeling it.
Taking my time, I cast my eyes over the old place. God, ten years and it looked like yesterday. Not a damned thing had changed. Throwing open the door, I stepped out into the bracing late afternoon air. It was autumn, and the night air was just a tad chillier than a month before.
Walking around the car, I waved my arms, throwing off the tired muscles.
"All right, here we go," I said to myself. "Let's get this over."
I banged on the front door and waited. I heard the footsteps, the door swung open and my Mother asking. "Hello..."
"Hey, Mum." I mumbled.
Her shock was obvious, her eyes bulged and her mouth dropped open. "Rory..." I could see her trying to get words to formulate. "Sorry, love, we didn't think you would come."
"To my Fathers funeral? Of course I came."
She stepped into the door and opened her arms. "Oh, Rory love, it's good to see you." She stepped back giving me the once over. "You're filled out."
"Yeah, eating too much, not enough exercise. How are you holding out, Mum?"
I felt her body trembling as she sobbed, the front of my cotton shirt damp with her tears.
She stepped back and I walked into our family home. Like the outside, nothing much had changed. I heard chatter coming from the dining room at the back. I glanced at Mum, and she said, "Your sisters are here, as well."
A young boy came barrelling up the hallway, screaming, "Gran, you have to come quick, there's somebody on the phone for you."
She smiled and gave me a pat on the arm. "Everybody's in the dining room. Come along, they are all going to be so surprised."
The little boy gave me a big smile before running back up the hallway.
I followed Mum as she walked into the dining room. "Look who's here," she warbled nervously.
The chatter had been loud, with lots of gossipy giggling, but the moment they turned to see who it was, the chatter stopped; it didn't die slowly, it just stopped dead.
The expression on my eldest sister's face was a picture. "Rory," she gasped.
"Hello, Sloane, how are you?"
My other sister, Lila, snorted. "What are you doing here?"
"I'm here for the funeral, what the hell do you think?"
"Ten years and you think you can just walk in here? You haven't wanted a bloody thing to do with us. Christ, what a bloody cheek."
I watched the little boy standing beside Sloane, peering over the chair. His eyes showed a little anxiety, the raised voices obviously scaring him.
Mum walked back in, having finished her phone call. "Would you like something to eat, Rory?"
"Nah, no thanks, Mum. I thought I would just stop in and say hello. See if you needed a hand."
"Son, how did you hear about your father?"
"Uncle Albert called me."
Her face was a picture of shocked confusion. "He knew where you were?"
"Yeah, he had my number for emergencies."
She rubbed her hands together nervously. "He never mentioned that."
"I asked him not to. Don't blame him." The chilly atmosphere started to get to me. "Okay, I might go and sort out a hotel."
"You can stay here, Rory; there's no need to run off," Mum threw back quickly.
"No, I think I will find a hotel. Others may need a room. I don't want to put you out."
"This is your home, Rory. I would like you to stay." A hint of determination came filtering through.
With a resigned sigh, I replied. "Yeah, okay, Mum. I'll go out and get my bags."
As I walked out the hallway, the chatter started, except this time it was snarly. The girls weren't happy. "Fuck them," I said to myself.
Extracting my backpack, I locked the car and headed back to the battle ground. "Which room Ma?" I called from the hallway.
"Your old room, of course."
Swinging open my old bedroom door was again like being transported back in time. It was exactly like I left it. As I threw my back pack on the bed, I noticed the young kid standing in the doorway staring at me. "Hey, what's your name?" I asked.
He just stared at me, his fingers holding onto the door frame. He was apparently shy. "You can come in you know, I don't bite."
I decided to reach out my hand, but as soon as I did, he took off like a scalded cat.
I opened a window to let some fresh air in and stretched out on the bed. I guess the driving had tired me out more than I realised. Within moments of my head hitting the pillow, I was asleep.
it was a deep sleep, interrupted by dreams. The images were crystal clear. My dad and I kicking the football around, going fishing. When I was young, we were so close. A shame it ended so bitterly. I still remember the lecture he gave me the day I left town. I wasn't planning on leaving, but I was sick of my family trying to force a reconciliation between my ex-wife Skye and me. Bloody hell, the bitch cheated on me, and they all expected me to just accept her apology and forgive and forget. Oh, hell no. That's not something you get over quickly.
After months of ongoing arguments and lectures from my parents and my sisters, I decided that was it. I packed up my shit, drove away and never came back. Well, not till today. As much as I hated the fighting and bickering, he was still my father and there were good memories, as well as the last bitter acrimonious ones.
I woke startled, the cold breeze drifting in through the open window. God, poor old Dad. Those last few weeks were terrible; we almost came to blows. He was so angry with me for not being mature enough to accept Skye's apology. He wanted me to just forget. Hah, fat chance of that. Fuck, we had only been married two years, and she couldn't keep her legs closed for that long. What chance did the future hold?
My heart pounded frantically, all those old emotions came rushing up my oesophagus.
I know Skye was close to the family, in fact, she was like part of the family. She was Sloane's best friend. They were closer than Sloane and Lila. I remember how disgusted Sloane was when Skye and I started dating. It took Skye months to win back Sloane's trust and friendship. After that they went back to being best friends, Lila was close to Skye, as well, not joined at the hip like Sloane, but they grew close.
Skye and Mum, that was tough, Skye came from a broken home, her mother divorced three times, and she hated all her step fathers. Her real father left town, never to be seen again. Yeah, that I could understand. I couldn't get out of town fast enough, either.
I walked out to the sound of gossip again. When I popped my head around the corner and said, "Mum, I'm gonna grab a shower," it all stopped again. Wow, after ten years, I expected some of the animosity to have abated. Apparently not, because Sloane gave me a very dirty look.
Enjoying the stinging jets in the shower I sighed. "Should have gone to a motel."
I changed quickly, and when I got out the house had filled. There were a couple of faces I didn't recognise. Mum did the introductions and there were handshakes all round. I didn't recognise the faces, but the names sounded mildly familiar.
That's how it is growing up in small towns: everybody knows everybody, ah, and of course, their business.
The guys were at least interested in me, Hank, Lila's husband, asked what I did for a living, where I lived. All the usual stuff, and we ended up talking football, much to the girls' disgust. Lila gave Frank the evil eye every time he asked another question. Her eyes were saying, "What the fuck are you talking to him for?"
Mum busied herself preparing dinner, and Lila and Sloane joined in to give her a hand. Mike, Hank and I started talking about the funeral and services. They had already started to prepare lists for everything. Catering, drinks, cars, it was when they got to pallbearers that I got the shock.
They already had the six names down, and my name wasn't on there. "Well, I want to be one of the pallbearers. He was my father."
"Like hell, Rory." Sloane snarled. There's no way dad would want you. Christ you didn't even talk to him."
"I don't care, I'm going to be a pallbearer at my own fathers funeral, so suck it up, Sloane."
Her husband Mike jumped in. "You can take my spot, man. No big deal."
"No!" Sloane screamed. "Don't you idiots understand? Dad left instructions on who he wanted. That's why those damn names are on that list."
That stunned me. "Sloane..." I started to respond, but she cut me off. "No, Rory, those were Dad's wishes. You can't walk in here after ten years and expect everything to be forgiven. It doesn't work that way."
"Oh, yeah, it was all right for my wife to fuck another guy and you thought that was okay. Fucking hypocrite."
Mum screamed. "Stop it!" She glanced around the group, her face taut filled with determination. "I will not have that language in my house. Think about Dylan. He doesn't need to hear that."