The Hollow Men - Episode 35
Drew wakes up in the field world and gets no answers there. When he returns to the real world he finds no answers in a strange, rambling journey across Odessa in search of stardust.
Last week in Episode 34 of The Hollow Men Drew finds himself split in two when Uncle Bill makes a demand, leading Sam to keep a closer eye on Uncle Bill.
The field, once again
That first night back in Odessa I woke up in the middle of the night. I was back in the field but was disoriented. I looked around and tried to get my bearings. In the land of the dead, there is no North, East, South or West, there just is. I was lost, as simple as that and this time there was no one to greet me.
My Dad was dead, so I figured that this is what this dream was about. I was supposed to meet him here.
I was wrong, and Tommy let me know. I really don’t know how long I had been there when I heard a dog barking behind me. I turned around and in the hazy distance a dog and a man were walking towards me. It was Tommy and Socks.
We shook hands, said our hello’s and I bent down and gave Socks a good rubbing.
“Where’s my Dad?”
“He’s in town.” Tommy pointed over his shoulder back to the glow on the horizon.
“I need to talk to him.” I started walking towards the glow.
“No point in going there, Drew. By the time you get there, he’ll be gone.”
“Huh, what do you mean he’ll be gone?”
“He’s not ready to see you. Truth is, you’re not ready to see him either. The wound, the loss, is too much, you both need time to heal.”
“I don’t understand, I saw you right after your death.”
“Different kind of relationship. We’re friends, that’s all, but he’s your Dad, you’re his son. The wound’s too deep, you got to let it heal for awhile. You’ll know when it’s time.”
“Damn! I need to talk to him now!”
“Maybe you do, but you’re not ready to. It will be awhile before you’re ready. Just let it be for now. Just let him be.”
“You don’t understand.”
“Drew, I understand better than you do. Remember? I’m dead. It was a good six of your months before I could see my parents. I had to wait until that time when the pain of my death wasn’t ripping them apart every moment of every day. I had to wait for them and for me. That’s the way it is, we see things when it’s time, we see people when it’s time. Now is not the time for you and your Dad.”
“I don’t know what to say at his funeral. I was hoping he could steer me in the right direction.”
“You don’t need him for that. That’s not how he raised you. When you need him, when you really need him, he’ll be here. For now, for Saturday, just think about your Dad, what he told you, what he taught you. Maybe there’s something left unsaid, something he told you that you didn’t quite understand but, now, now that things are different you can figure it out.”
I thought back to the day I left for college and Austin. I remember what he said to me as he walked out the door to work: “Change or the world’s gonna change you.”
I thought about what he might have meant, and then I realized how my Dad had always talked, few words with a whole lot of meaning. He always meant more than the words themselves, his words had power and meaning. His final words to me surely had that but I had never given them much thought, other than allowing myself to be pissed off.
The field grew dark. Tommy and Socks faded into the shadows. As I opened up my eyes I heard my Dad say to me softly “Change or the world’s gonna change you.” There was no anger in his words, no anger at all. Sam lifted her head off the bed and cocked her head as she listened to the ghosts of the night. Satisfied the voices were done talking, she laid her head back down on the bed and fell back asleep. It was 2:14 am. I laid there in the dark, listening to Sam breathe and thinking about those words.
A damn big cactus, Willie Nelson and a bunch of lost souls
I swear I do not know the purpose of funerals. In some strange and foreign land I suppose their purpose is to ease those who have to live on. That’s not how it works here. Every funeral I’ve ever been to has done me no good and as far as I can tell, has done no good for anyone. They are always painful, like something is being ripped out of you. There’s no peace to be found.
A funeral is bad enough, but it gets even worse when it becomes something akin to an event, and that’s what this was turning into. It started the next morning. By the time I woke up the whole house was up and moving in the kitchen and living room. That was strange for me. My Dad was always first up in our house, I was second up, then my Mom and finally Elizabeth. Seems like the whole damn world had gone topsy-turvy on me.
The plans for the day had been made while I slept. I don’t know if Sam was asleep when it all happened or if she was part of the planning, all I know is when I woke up I was alone. I could hear voices in the rest of the house so I pulled on some clothes and ventured out in to the day. That was my first mistake.
While it wasn’t clear who had been in on the planning it was clear who had the plan. Elizabeth did. As I walked into the kitchen she was looking over a list.
“All right, we’ll need to go by the florist, the funeral home, the church. I need to call the Odessa American and make sure they run Dad’s obituary in the Saturday paper. I also have to drop a suit of Bud’s off at the dry cleaners, and I have to get something for George to wear.”
Then Elizabeth looked at me and said “Drew, get ready to go with Mom and me. There’s a lot we need to take care of before people start showing up tomorrow. A lot to do.”
Uncle Bill had a smile on his face that said very clearly “better you than me.” I was trapped. Today was a day I would spend with Elizabeth and Mom as we continued to adapt to this new life.
I walked over to Mom, gave her a kiss on the forehead and gentle hug then headed back to my room to get ready for the day.
A quick shower and shave, a fresh pair of jeans, a shirt and my running shoes and I was ready to go. Elizabeth and Mom were waiting for me in the kitchen. Sam and Brutus were lying on the floor next to Uncle Bill who was sitting at the kitchen table. The television was on in the living room, Sherry was watching the local news on channel 7.
The three of us walked out into the day, climbed into Elizabeth’s car and with Elizabeth driving we were on our way.
Indecision ruled the day. Odessa is not a big town. You can drive across it one end to another in about fifteen to twenty minutes. That day we crossed town a good five, six times. While there may have been a plan of what to do and where, apparently no one thought to lay things out in a logical manner, and so we drove from one end of town to another, from east to west, from north to south and all over again.
Just before noon and more florist stores than I knew existed in Odessa a decision was made. Elizabeth was looking around the florist shop and said “I don’t know why we were looking for flowers, Dad didn’t like flowers. We need something big and strong, not a bunch of flowers that are going to die in a couple of days.”
That actually made sense. Dad wasn’t a flowery type person. In fact, I can’t remember him every buying Mom any flowers all the years I was at home. He was a “practical man,” and he didn’t see any sense in buying flowers that would be thrown out in next week’s trash. Only problem is that there were few things Mom liked more than a fresh cut bunch of colorful flowers.
I wasn’t really part of the shopping adventure; I was just along for the ride so I was standing in one corner of the florist shop looking at a big cactus. It stood a good six feet tall, and that was with a slight lean. I swear I was just standing there when Elizabeth walked over.
“Drew, that’s perfect! Absolutely perfect! You found exactly the right thing!”
I looked all around me because I had no idea what Elizabeth was talking about.
“This cactus is what we were looking for. It reminds me of Dad. Doesn’t it you?”
I thought for a moment. The cactus looked mean and lean. Yeah, Dad was mean and lean. The cactus was thorny and could hurt anyone who got too close to it. Okay, Dad was the same way. She had a point.
Mom walked over and looked at the cactus and began to cry. It was a good cry and she looked at me and said “Drew, I should have known you would know what was right for your Dad.”
Me? It wasn’t the right time to point out that I didn’t pick the cactus out, I was just standing there. I never care much for taking credit that wasn’t mine, but this time I figured it would be best to go along.
From noon to 1:00 pm we were at the funeral home. I don’t remember much of that save for Elizabeth explaining how things were going to be on Saturday. Mom sat quietly in one of the pews at the back of the hall. I sat next to her, holding her hand. The only sounds I could hear was some background music and Elizabeth talking.
With the funeral arrangements taken care of to Elizabeth’s satisfaction we were back on the road looking for my Dad’s favorite album, “Stardust” by Willie Nelson. Elizabeth’s and Mom’s plan was to play “Stardust” as background music during the funeral. The search started at Winwood Mall on the north east side of town, then moved to Endless Horizons on the west side of town, then back to Permian Mall on the north east side of town (just five blocks east of Winwood Mall!). Then we drove to a new record store near downtown (on the south west side of town). Then we went to K-Mart just down the road from Winwood Mall. You get the picture, back and forth, round and round and no one had “Stardust.”
Around 3:30 everyone was tired and thirsty. We stopped at a drive-inn on Andrews Highway for something to drink. Mom got out of the car to sit on the picnic table near our car and I decided to sit in the passenger seat for a few minutes. I wasn’t doing anything, just messing around, killing time and I was punching buttons in Elizabeth’s car. I opened up the glove compartment and looked around in it and found right on top of everything a cassette tape. I picked it up and looked at the label that read “Stardust” by Willie Nelson. The damn album we had been looking for all over town was right there in Elizabeth’s car the whole time. I handed it to her as the girl on roller skaters brought our cherry coke, cherry limeade and lime coke (could have used a little gin to go with it) to the car.
Elizabeth looked at the tape in her hand and began to cry. That started Mom crying, which got Elizabeth to cry even more. Next thing I know they were both sitting at the picnic table crying. I let them cry for a few minutes then I helped them both get in the back seat and I drove us home. While I was driving I saw the three of us as lost souls, wandering the main, side and back streets of Odessa searching for what was left of our lives. We didn’t find anything worth remembering that day.
I found our way back home, parked the car and helped Mom and Elizabeth into the house. They had stopped crying on the drive back and were mostly sniffling by the time we walked in the door. Sam and Brutus were the first to greet us. Sam looked us over carefully, then walked over to me and leaned against my leg while I bent down and petted her. Brutus walked over to Mom and stood on his hind legs with his front legs resting on Mom's legs, his tail swishing rapidly. She bent over and talked to him while she petted him. George and Mary were next, though they weren’t much interested in me, they ran up to Elizabeth with their arms upraised crying for their Mom to pick them up and hold them. Aunt Sherry was next in line and she helped my Mom into the kitchen while Elizabeth waddled forward into the living room with George on one hip and Mary on the other. Bud and Uncle Billy were in the living room watching the early news.
“How did things go?”
I looked behind me, saw that Mom was out of earshot and that Elizabeth was focusing on her kids before I answered Uncle Bill but I still spoke carefully.
“It was interesting. Took awhile to find what we wanted but I think in the end we covered what we intended to.”
“That’s good. Lot of folks called today. Between Sherry and me, I think we used up a whole notepad to write down who called, if they would be here Saturday and how sorry they were for the family.” Then with a grand gesture, he waved his arm toward the dining table and said “And as well for the greenery, just take a look for yourself.”
The whole dining table was covered with flowers and plants. I walked over to the table and one by one read the card attached to each and every flower arrangement and plant. My Dad never cared much for flowers, but he was going to have to put up with them one last time.
There’s only so many ways you can say something, in this case, that someone has died and gone on to a different place, and that’s in the case you believe in an after world or after life, which I wasn’t so sure of.
“Our sympathies are with you in this time of sorrow.”
“Our prayers are with you.”
“He’s in a better place.”
And on and on, over and over, the same thing again. In more than one case, the same flowers from the same florist. You would think someone would think to keep track of what had been already ordered to avoid that strange sense of déjà vu when you see the same card, the same flowers, the same canned saying from two different people.
Sam was interested in the flowers or at least in the smells. She stood by me as I read the cards, her noise twitching vigorously at the smells wafting from the flowers and plants. One by one, individually, I’m sure the flowers had a wonderful smell, but the mixture of perfumes was nearly overwhelming to me. The last card I read was from Corey Bizzel. I knew Corey from Permian, he was a sophomore when I was a senior. His card read “To Drew and his family. I’m sorry for your loss. Gene taught me everything I know about the oil industry and for that I and my family owe him everything we have. God bless you – Corey.” That was it, I had to walk out in the backyard and away from the flowers.
Sam and Brutus came with me and they began their patrol of the fence while I walked along besides them. It was a chance to stretch my legs and be in the sun. It had been a dry year in Odessa, not much different from many other years and now that it was fall, what little green grass there had been was now brown.
We had walked the entire perimeter and I was back on the porch. Sam laid on the grass and looked at me. Brutus was off in the corner of the yard digging into the dry dust. I didn’t pay any attention at first, was sort of lost in my own world but after awhile I became aware of Sam staring at me. I looked down at her. “What do you want, girl?” She didn’t answer, at least not in English, but did stand up and began to prance excitedly in a little circle.
Sometimes I’m a little dense and slow to figure things out and this was one of those times. She continued to prance in a circle and with each turn she would stare at me. She was getting annoyed, that was clear. She went around one last time, then stopped and stared at me, then began to bark at me. That’s when I figured it out.
“Sam, you want to run, don’t you girl?” I was right, because as soon as I said run, she leapt into the air again and again in excitement. It was a good idea. We hadn’t run since the previous morning and we had covered a lot of miles and time since then.
“All right, girl, let’s go inside and let me get my running gear on and we’ll go for a short run.”
The two of us went back into the house. At the door I looked back and whistled to Brutus. He lifted his head up, but seemed far more interested in his digging than in us so we left him outside. Sam could barely contain herself as she danced around me as we walked into the living room. Bud and Uncle Billy were still in the living room watching the news. They smiled at Sam’s antics and waited for me to explain things.
“Sam is used to a short run every day and we haven’t gone since yesterday morning. She needs to stretch my legs and I’ll admit I do too.”
They both laughed and Bud said to me “You might not be married but you might as well be. That damn dog is running your life.”
There was some truth to that, but I didn’t mind. Sam was a good friend and right now I needed to spend time with a good friend.
I walked into the kitchen. Elizabeth was sitting with George and Mary and they were telling her about their day with their Dad, Uncle Bill and Aunt Shelly. Mom and Aunt Sherry were discussing what to fix for dinner. I walked over to Mom and told her that I was taking Sam for a quick run. She smiled, gave me a gentle hug and thanked me for taking care of her and Elizabeth that day. I mumbled something meaningless and quiet, but I guess it was enough, because I got another hug from Mom and a gentle pat on the arm from Aunt Sherry. With that I walked to my bedroom and Sam was right at my heels.
She sat on her haunches and watched as I changed into shorts, a tee shirt and my running shoes. As I tied my laces she stood up and waited impatiently for me. We were ready and we walked down the hallway, stopped near the front door, waved in the kitchen at my Mom and Aunt Sherry who waved back, then we were out the door.
We stood on the front porch for a couple of seconds, sort of getting our bearings. We walked to the sidewalk and headed west down 11th street. We walked for the first block just to get a little loose then we started jogging. Sam loved it, she would run a couple of steps ahead, then look at me over her shoulder with a big grin on her face. We moved north along Garnet, which turns into 12th street and jogged east along 12th street. I had decided to stay on less traveled streets in order to avoid traffic. At Crescent we turned north again up to 14th street where we again headed east. We stayed on 14th street all the way to Limestone which led us back to 11th street where we headed west back towards home. Past Royalty, then Nabors Lane, then Crescent until we arrived sweating and a little short of breath at the house I grew up in.
It had been a good run. Sam knew that I needed it more than her. While we ran I let my mind go blank and managed to forget all that had gone on that day. We stood outside on the front lawn and let the last of the sweat dry off. The front door opened and Bud walked out.
“Man, how are you doing?”
“I’ve been better, Bud, but I’m all right. The run, I needed the run.”
Bud smiled at me, and reached down and petted Sam. “Yeah, I know. Sometimes you just got to get away from folks and things. I know. Elizabeth, she’s trying hard, but I fear she’s going to break. The kids, they know something is wrong, but they don’t know what. While you three were out, George asked where Grampa was. Thank God he didn’t ask while Elizabeth was here. The funny thing is George and Mary won’t remember your dad in a few years. They’re too young. They will only remember what we tell them and the pictures we show them of him.”
Bud and I really didn’t talk that much. It’s not that we didn’t like each other, just that we didn’t have that much to say to each other.
“You know, your Dad talked about you a lot. Well, that’s not really true, Hell, your Dad wasn’t exactly a prolific talker. Most of what he said was from nods and grunts. But, he did talk about you and he was proud of you. I don’t know if you knew that or not.”
Part of me knew it, another part didn’t. Part of me liked to hear that and another part was pissed that I never heard it from my Dad.
“I don’t know why he never told you. It was strange, sometimes he would just start talking to me. It was always when we would be working in the yard, either here or at our place. We would be shoveling mulch, digging a flower bed or planting a tree and he would just, out of nowhere, start talking. The last time was a couple of months ago. He was bragging about how you burned through your bachelor’s degree and immediately started working on your master’s.”
His words started to stumble. We weren’t used to this kind of conversation.
“Bud, thanks. Thanks for telling me this. That means a lot to me.” What I said was trite and polite but it was all I had. Bud and I needed a good football or basketball game to really get along and there were no sports on the television that Thursday night. This was the best we could do. We shook hands and walked back into the house.
The house was relatively quiet Thursday night. We ate dinner in silence and after dinner the only sounds in the house were from George and Mary and the television. I spent most of the evening trying to figure out what I was going to say at Dad’s funeral. I kept coming back to the day I left for Austin and my Dad told me “change or the world’s gonna change you.” There was something there, I wasn’t sure what, but there was something there, something I could build on.
Around 10:00 I left the fun group in the living room and went to my old room. Sam was ready to get away from George and Mary and was more than happy to come with me. Once in my room, I closed my door and turned the radio on. I wasn’t listening to the music, I just needed the noise to drown out what was going on around me. Sam hopped up on my bed, walked around a couple of times till she found the right spot, laid down and within a few minutes was asleep. I sat at my old desk, a pencil in my hand and a legal tablet on the desk. I was hoping I could figure out what I needed to say at my Dad’s funeral. I needed to say something true, but I had to say it without the anger that was still inside me. I thought back to “change or the world’s gonna change you.” Time passed and it was 11:30 before I realized it. Still nothing on the page and nothing in my head to say. All I could think to do was start sketching rectangles and triangles and tanks, just filling the page up.
Friday was a mad day, the final day to get everything lined up. It was a day of phone calls, of visits, of arrivals, of tears and stories, of hugs and slaps on the back. It was a horrible day, just about the worst, or so I thought. Saturday would be a different day.
Next week, in Episode 36 of The Hollow Men, the funeral of Gene Remington.
so strange what we remember about funerals