Walking Backwards - Episode 10
Jack once more threatens to kill Drew. Looking to make sense of things Drew goes to familiar places but finds nothing of help. The first wake for Rick Anders. A new explanation for an old parable.
Welcome to the tenth episode of Walking Backwards, the third collection of not quite true tales of Texas. Previous collections are:
The Cold Days of Summer - If you are new to these tales and the type who likes to know how things started I would recommend starting here.
The Hollow Men - the second collection of not quite true tales of Texas.
New episodes are posted (almost) every Sunday. You can move easily between episodes via links to the previous and next episode.
If you are new to these not quite true tales of Texas but are the type who likes to dive right in you could start with the prologue to Walking Backwards. The prologue provides a summary of the first two collections and descriptions of the major characters you will be reading about in Walking backwards.
In our last episode, episode 9 of Walking Backwards, Rick has died on his way to Southern Maid Donuts in Odessa. Drew helps Rick’s brother assess what Rick has left behind and suggests to Rick’s family a plan to carry Rick’s legacy forward. In a field dream, where the dead meet with Drew, the newly dead Rick warns Drew to not "cut muscle and bone when all you're trying to do is cut fat.”
The first wake, but not the last
Saturday morning, two days after Rick died on the way to Southern Maid. I was in Odessa. Awake. Made Mom some coffee. Had taken Brutus out in the yard. The phone rang as I was skimming through the Odessa American. It was Robert, Rick’s brother. the soon to be executor of his estate.
“Drew, do you know some guy named Art?”
“Sure, he's a friend, a good guy. What did he call you about?”
“He wanted to host a small gathering, a wake I guess, of Rick's friends tonight. Said all of you used to gather at his garage apartment in high school and college.”
“That we did, most often on Saturday nights. That would be good. Did he leave a number?”
Art did leave a number so I gave him a ring. He no longer lived in a garage apartment behind his parent's house. He had his own house now on the northeast side of town.
We put together a list of names for each of us to call and we decided the “wake” would start at 7:30 pm. My last call was to the Blessing house, but I never got around to it because as I was dialing the phone I heard the front door open and Jack Blessing's voice behind me. Scared the hell out of me.
“Drew, what's this I hear about you and Art getting folks together tonight?”
“Shit, Jack, where did you come from? Oh, Shannon, Kate, hey, how are you?” Shannon, Jack’s wife, and Jack’s sister Kate had walked in behind Jack.
“Just pulled into town. We walked into the house. Mom said that Art had called the house. Figured I would get the scoop from you.”
“When the hell did you leave Austin?”
“Early this morning. Knew you and Robert would be here, wondered if we could help out in some way. Decided early last evening to get up and drive here this morning.”
That was Jack. Once something was decided he saw no sense in wasting time. He was about getting to the doing.
“Art and I must had both had you on our list. He got to you first. Nothing much to tell. 7:30 pm at Art's house on east 52nd. I've managed to get a hold of everyone on my list and they are all coming. It will be a little bigger crowd than what used to show up at Art's apartment.”
“What do we need to bring?”
“Art insisted on just ourselves. He said he and his wife would have plenty of drinks and food for everyone.”
Jack sat down on the couch.
“Anything new to tell us?”
I caught the three of them up to date. They asked about Ann. I told them about the pregnancy.
“You son of a bitch, Ann is five month's pregnant and you're just now telling us? Shit, I ought to kill you!”
“Shannon, I had hoped you would have a more positive influence on Jack than you have. He's been threatening to kill me for years. I had assumed that being married to a lawyer would stop the threats.”
“Drew, you know there is very little one can do to stop Jack when he's made his mind up.”
“That is true.”
Kate gave me a hard hug when they left, I felt her shudder. Jack just looked at me in the eye, shook my hand hard and said “This just sucks.” Shannon kissed me on the cheek and said they would come by to pick me up at 7:15 PM. And then I was alone.
They were true to their word. At 7:15 PM Jack knocked on the front door. I kissed my Mom good night. She asked when to expect me. I said I didn't know. Jack said not to worry. We walked out to the car. Shannon was driving. Kate was riding shotgun.
“I figure you and me will be drinking hard tonight. Shannon is our designated driver.”
“I do feel a need to drink these days away. Thanks, Jack.”
We arrived at Art's house at 7:28 to find a number of cars parked up and down the street. We knocked on the front door and Art's wife, Beth, let us into the house.
“Jack Blessing, last time I remember seeing you was in the ninth grade at Bonham. We were in the same Algebra class.”
I looked at Beth and did not recognize her. Jack noticed my confusion.
“She's referring to the first time I took algebra, the year before you and took it. Beth graduated in 1975, a year ahead of us.”
“Ah, good, I was worried that I was losing my memory. I knew I would remember someone as pretty as she is.”
Art stepped in. “Beth, you know Jack, this is Drew Remington, who apparently has become much smoother around beautiful women than he used to be.”
Jack spoke for me “Drew's been practicing his repartee a lot over the last few years just waiting for such an occasion.”
“Yes, I have.”
We walked in. Jack did the polite thing and said hello to people but I immediately walked to the refrigerator and grabbed a beer.
James, Lyle, Mark and Barry were there. So were J.T, Sue and Jason. All of the old crew save for the dead, save for Rick and Tommy. There were also a few others. Greg Connors, the football player from whom Rick, Tommy, Mark and I stole Peppette brownies and cookies from for two years, was there. Keith Carson, who I hadn't seen in years was also there. Keith Carson, the smart thug, who had completed his PhD in Psychology and was now specializing in computer interfaces. We ended up talking for a good while about the human computer interface. Mike and Mary Ann Garrett were there, so was Carrie Myers Saunders, Tommy's older sister. That was a little uncomfortable at first, she had been angry at me about Tommy's death in high school. I avoided her until she caught me in a corner and convinced me that she was no longer angry at me. Ray Downing and Josh Mahoney were there, they played varsity football at Permian, were two years older than most of us and had threatened to kick our asses the first time we showed up at Lambert's land as sophomores. They made no threats this sad night. Robert, Rick’s older brother, was there as well but seemed as much out of place as I felt.
The house was warm and inviting. Everyone was kind, gracious, sympathetic. Everyone talked lovingly about Rick, everyone expressed their condolences to me and to Robert. Everyone, everyone, everyone. It was too much. I don't know what the purpose of tonight was but it wasn't a good purpose, at least not for me. The house was too warm, so were the people. I had to get out. I grabbed a beer and walked out to the backyard.
The day had been warm, with a high just over 70 degrees and very little wind. Now that that sun had set the temperature was dropping rapidly and the overnight low would be in the high 30's. I had left my jacket in Jack's car and it was a little cool to be outside in just jeans and a long sleeve shirt, but it was better than being inside with all of the noise and people.
“How are you doing?”
I looked up and around. It was Robert, dressed better than me with a light jacket to ward off the night chill.
“All right. Everyone in there is crying or reminiscing and I don't feel like either one. What I feel is angry. I'm angry that Rick is gone. I feel like I did when Rick broke. We were shutting down VP Tanks like we had planned and we were just about to reap the benefits of what we had done. We had made enough that we wouldn't have to work hard the rest of our lives but he broke and he didn't get to enjoy any of it, at least not for awhile. Then he came back and for a short time he got to enjoy and now he's dead. It just doesn't seem fair and it pisses me off.”
“Yeah, I can appreciate that. It's strange. He was my brother. I guess I loved him. I know I miss him. I know how I'm supposed to feel, but it isn't the way I feel. It just feels strange.”
I nodded my head. I understood what Robert was saying. We both suspected what the world expected from us in this situation but for neither one of us did what the world expected from us feel natural. We stared into the night for a few minutes before Robert broke the silence.
“Did you know Rick had a nickname for me? Ever since I came back to town years ago. He only used it when he wanted to annoy me, like a little brother likes to annoy the big brother. Damn thing is I never knew what the nickname meant.”
“What was it?”
“PS”
“PS? You mean the letters P and S?”
“Yeah, I guess so. Hell, I don't know, I never did know and now he's dead. Guess I'll never know.”
“I think I know what it means.”
“What?”
“It's not a nickname, it's an acronym, it stands for Prodigal Son.”
“Huh?”
I looked at Robert, the prodigal son, the son who had been lost and then was found. “You were lost and then you were found. I remember when you disappeared and when you came back. Pissed me off to no end. Thought you were a real son-of-a-bitch and a coward. You ran off with your parent's money, money they saved for you and Rick to go to college. You disappeared off the face of the earth. You hurt all of them and then one day, when Rick and I were seniors, you show back up, at their front door, like nothing had happened. They let you in, without a question, without reprimand, without a condition, they let you back in. Back then, I wouldn't have. Don't know if I would now. I asked Rick about it. I couldn't understand your parent's acceptance, Rick's acceptance. He told me of the parable of the prodigal son, of a son who leaves home and foolishly spends his inheritance. One day he comes back, busted and broke and the father accepts him back saying 'what was lost is now found.' That was you. You were lost and then you were found.”
“Damn, did he tell you about the nickname?
“No, just figured it out when you told me about it. He never mentioned it to me. You know, the funny thing is Rick was lost and then he was found. When he cracked up, when VP Tanks was going down, he was lost. Then in '86, he came back, he was found and now he's lost again, this time for good.”
“Speaking of '86, what happened then? Dad and Rick said you were there the day Rick came back. Dad swears you did something but he doesn't know what.”
“That's not a story for tonight, I'll tell you before I leave town. Tonight I plan to drink a lot of beer. My goal for tonight is not to remember, it is to forget.”
“I can accept that. We'll talk more before you leave town.”
Robert stood up, stretched and said “You said you were angry about what I did then. You still angry?”
“I’m still a bit of an asshole. Holding onto things way longer than others do, but I do learn. I’ve done some shitty things, held it against me but luckily I have some good friends like Tommy and Rick. My Mom helped me too. She always said ‘forgive to forget.’ Rick and Tommy had their own versions of that. I’m not real good at the forgiving part, particularly when I’m the one who screwed up.”
I paused for a moment, letting my words fall to the dry ground.
“Robert, here’s the thing. I don’t have a right to be angry with you, never did. It was just righteous anger and when I saw how glad your parents were when you came back… Well, I can be an asshole, but I know your parents. I know Rick. I just let it go. So, no, I’m not angry at you, probably never was. I’m just angry at this situation.”
Robert leaned over and placed his hand on my shoulder and said “I get it. Once I woke from my ‘walkabout’ I was hard on myself. It took awhile before I came to the conclusion that being angry does no one good. It’s sort of like dropping a plate to the floor and cursing someone, something, anything for causing the plate to break. You either got to sweep the pieces into the trash or see if you can glue back together and make something of it. I decided to glue back together the pieces of me that weren’t too broken.”
We were silent for a moment until Robert said “I'm going back in. So should you, otherwise people will talk. They already are, they're worried about how quiet you've been.”
“Don't want them worrying. That's the last thing I need or want.”
We both walked back into the house. I grabbed another beer and talked with people. I didn't quit drinking. I don't remember the drive home at all.
I woke up a little after 8:00 Sunday morning, only to find myself in great pain. Mom was getting ready for church and asked if I would like to attend. I told her no, that I had other plans for the morning. I didn't, but she didn't need to know that. Once she left for church I took a cold shower and washed out most of the cobwebs in my brain. I dressed and headed out of the house, no real direction in mind.
I drove east, along the highway 80 access road and pulled into the yard of what used to be VP Tanks. The sign now read Manneke's Construction, but the yard and building was empty. Apparently Manneke had landed on rough times. I walked around the yard, peeked into the office windows and came to the conclusion there was nothing for me here, not even ghosts. I drove on. I took the old Country Club Road, the road we would take to Golden Acres. Mission Country Club had bought the site years ago, but the old cinder brick clubhouse was still standing. I pulled into the caliche parking lot and walked around. The edges of the course could still be seen and I walked down old number one. I walked the first loop out from the clubhouse and back, what was holes number one through four. As the sun rose higher in the sky, the day warmed.
No ghosts here, but there were some good memories, of Pete the old pro, of his sons Lannie and Larry Dean, the warm summer days and a lot of rounds of golf with Rick.
On the way back I stopped for breakfast at McDonald's. I was feeling good enough to eat.
The rest of Sunday was a quiet day. Mom made meatloaf and mashed potatoes for dinner. It was damn good. I spent the quiet time outlining what I would say at Rick's service on Monday. I went to bed early that night and was totally detoxed from the night before.
Monday morning, Rick's will was officially executed. Robert was now officially the executor of Rick's estate and he had the paperwork to prove it.
Author’s note: I’ve mentioned before that there are a few people who had read these ‘not quite true tales of Texas’ before I started posting them to Substack. Before I post them here I re-read them, hopefully clean them up a bit, check to make sure the dates make sense and often I add in some new stuff, some of which makes sense now, other stuff that lays groundwork for future episodes.
Next week in episode 11 of Walking Backwards the funeral of Rick Anders.
i try to forgive and release.....hard for me because I have a good memory and still carry the pain
forgiving to forget, sounds easy....never easy