Hole: A Ghost Story Page 15

  “Wake up, Mary,” he implored softly, his tears falling onto her face. “Wake up, baby, please! It’s almost too late. They’re getting ready to close the lid.”

  Hank waited for her eyes to flutter open, knowing it was never going to happen, cursing himself, cursing God. He stared at her, memorizing her face, then straightened the collar of her dress. Delaying. Delaying.

  “Hank, everyone’s waiting outside,” his mother said gently.

  Hank nodded. He kissed his wife one last time, backed away. “I love you, Mary.” His knees were all rubbery. Someone took his arm. He wasn’t sure later who it was, but they led him to Steve’s car and helped him inside.

  The drive to the graveyard was a blur of tears and anguish. When the ride was finally over and Steve had parked the car, Hank wiped his face and walked across the green manicured lawn to the place where they had dug a hole for his wife. There was a tent, a pile of dirt, metal folding chairs and a hole. He collapsed front and center and waited for the pall bearers to bring her as the rest of the seats filled up.

  The trim of the blue funeral tent flapped in the languishing breeze. The heat made him feel like he’d taken a bath in hot oil.

  The pall bearers brought Mary in her rose colored casket, set her on the straps and metal rods suspended over the grave. Pastor Brunner sermonized again for a few minutes, then asked if anyone would like to speak before the service concluded.

  Dean rose, but Harriet snatched his jacket sleeve and jerked him back down. Hank saw this from the corner of his eye, his stomach giving a lurch. Dean sat obediently, his face lowered, but Hank saw that sneer flicker across his lips again. His brother-in-law’s eyes cut in Hank’s direction for just an instant, then lowered to the hands he clasped in his lap.

  “No one? Then we conclude this service for our sister in Christ, Mary Louise Stanford. Let us pray. Our heavenly father...”

  As the mourners drifted away, the women in their dark colored dresses and big Sunday hats, the men in their suits and ties, red-faced and sweaty in the heat, Hank sat and watched as his wife was lowered into the earth. His mother asked if he wanted to go, but he shook his head. “Not until it’s done,” he said.

  He sat, holding his mother’s hand, then, glancing at Steve, he took his brother-in-law’s hand as well. Together they watched the cemetery workers shovel earth into the grave. After a while, the workers backed a little trailer to the grave and the bed raised up and spilled the rest of the dirt inside.

  “Call me if you need to talk,” his partner Travis said. Hank didn’t even know he had waited around.

  “I will. Thanks, Travis.”

  He hugged Hank and walked to his car.

  Harriet and Jim had already left, and so had Dean and his clan.

  The workers filled the hole, then tamped the dirt with their shovels. They were quiet and efficient. Very respectful.

  Hank rose and smiled at Steve, “That’s it then, little brother. It’s over. I’m all alone now.” The pain in his smile was so dense it could have warped light.

  Steve smiled back, wiping his eyes. “That’s all you can do for her, Hank. Let’s go home. I’m hot and tired and my heart is broken.”

  “We’re going to go too, honey,” his mother interrupted.

  “All right, Ma. I’ll see you later.”

  Hank kissed his mother, nodded to Trenton, who was standing at the edge of the tent with his hat in his hands, sweat gleaming on his scalp. His mother said they were going to the Chinese restaurant to grab a bite to eat with his sister. After that, they planned to retire to their hotel room and take a nap for a couple hours. They were both exhausted.

  She sounded apologetic, as if she thought she were failing him somehow, but it was all right.

  “We’ll come see you later tonight,” she promised. “We’re gonna wait for the sun to go down and this heat to drop a little before we head back home.”

  “I’ll see you tonight, then,” Hank replied.

  As they returned to Steve’s car, Hank asked, “Are you leaving tonight?”

  “Yes. I’m sorry, Hank. I want to go home.”

  “I understand. I’m being selfish. I know all of you have to get back to your lives. I was just hoping you’d stay one more night.”

  Steve didn’t respond.

  They slid into the Kia and drove away.

  In the maple and oak trees that shaded the cemetery’s rolling hills, cicadas rattled out a mournful song. Mr. Kelley went to cool off in his air conditioned car while the graveyard workers smoked a cigarette in the shade of the tent, then set to the task of disassembling the pavilion. It was hot work. They mopped the sweat from their brows and cursed the sun.

  In the earth, Mary’s body lay in darkness.

  Part III

  Family Secrets

  24.

  Penny was waiting in the driveway when they got back.

  Hank’s stomach flip-flopped when he saw her car, a gray Ford Taurus, parked behind his Mustang. He saw it as Steve slowed to turn onto Birch Drive, blinker ticking. Hank could see the back of her head through the rear windshield, her honey-blond hair. She must be roasting in this heat, he thought. How long had she been sitting in his driveway?

  “Who’s that?” Steve asked.

  Hank shot him a guilty glance, though his brother-in-law’s tone was only curious-- no hint of accusation. “Just… uh, someone I know,” Hank stammered vaguely. He could feel his cheeks burning.

  Steve glanced at him, took note of his discomfort.

  “Oh.”

  Penny turned her head to look at them as the Kia pulled alongside her Taurus. She caught Hank’s eye, smiled hesitantly.

  “You want some privacy?” Steve asked, killing the engine of the Kia. His voice was as neutral as his expression.

  “If you don’t mind,” Hank said gratefully. He dug in his pocket and took out his keys. He separated out his house key and handed the key ring to Steve. “I’ll be inside in a minute.”

  Steve nodded, pushing open his door. He didn’t look at the woman in the gray Ford, just walked casually toward the patio, jangling Hank’s keys.

  Taking a deep breath, Hank pushed open his door and stepped onto the pavement. He walked around to Penny’s car. He hoped she wasn’t angry with him for ignoring her calls. His nerves couldn’t handle a confrontation.

  Penny didn’t get out until Steve had went on into the house. She craned her head to watch the lanky man disappear inside, then opened her door. Hank stepped back, smiling nervously as she came around to talk to him.

  “Penny,” he greeted her.

  “I called you about fifty times,” Penny said in a stage whisper. “Why didn’t you call me back?”

  She didn’t sound angry. A little frustrated, maybe, but mostly concerned. Hank relaxed.

  “I’ve been kind of busy,” he said, gesturing toward his black dress suit. “The last three days have been pretty crazy.”

  Penny leaned against the side of her car. She was dressed in cranberry colored shorts and a white sleeveless blouse She’d cut her hair just shy of shoulder length, must have done it sometime in the last day or two. It looked nice, he thought.

  “I heard about Mary,” she said, looking down. She scuffed the toe of her sneaker in the gravel. “I went by your office yesterday and talked to Travis. He told me what happened.”

  Hank stared at her. He didn’t know what to say. His nerves were cooked by heat and grief. The whirring of the cicadas in the nearby trees crowded in on his thoughts, made him feel frazzled.

  Penny’s mouth worked wordlessly. She suddenly looked frightened, remorseful. “Hank… you don’t think this is our fault, do you? You don’t think she found out about us and… did what she did? I don’t know if I could live with myself.”

  Hank felt a flash of guilt, not because he’d slept with her, but because he’d dragged her into the sticky web of all his marriage’s secrets and unvoiced grievances.

  Hank shrugged. “I don’t know, Penny. She didn’t
leave a note. I came home and she was upstairs in… uh, in the bathtub.” He could feel his face screwing up. The muscles in his neck and upper back began to ache. He didn’t want to talk about it. He wanted to retreat from this moment, run like he always ran… but isn’t that what led to the storm of silence and resentment that lay waste to his life? Could he afford to live out the rest of his days that way?

  Hank pressed on, despite the pain. He opened his mouth, not sure what was going to come out.

  “None of this is your fault,” he said quickly, sounding resentful. He winced at his own clipped tone. He paused, went on in a softer voice. “Mary and I got in the habit of… swallowing our emotions a long time ago. We had a lot of issues with her past, and I couldn’t deal with them like I should have. It’s always been hard for me to talk about my feelings. Maybe if I had...”

  He choked up a little, but when Penny stretched out her hand to console him, he jerked back so violently he struck Steve’s car. He felt even more miserable and ashamed.

  “Hank,” Penny said softly, withdrawing her hand.

  “I’m sorry,” he apologized. “I feel like... all my nerves are exposed right now. Everything hurts.”

  Penny drew herself up. He could feel her eyes on him, trying to pry through the wall he was projecting between them. “What can I do to help?” she asked finally.

  “Nothing!” he answered quickly. Then softer: “Not right now. I just need time. I think I need to be alone for a while.”

  “Are you breaking up with me?” she asked.

  He laughed. He knew it was an inappropriate response, and he saw a flash of hurt in her eyes, but it had escaped his lips before he could clamp down on it. “No,” he answered. “Maybe. I don’t know. My wife just died, and it’s my fault. I feel like I’m poisonous right now, and I don’t think I should be around anyone for a long time.”

  “Whatever Mary did or didn’t find out. Whatever you should have said or done, it’s not your fault,” Penny said in a rush, leaning toward him. “It sounds to me like you’re blaming everyone except—“

  Hank shook his head, drawing away from her even more, the door handle of Steve’s car digging into his back. “Don’t say it, Penny!”

  “Okay!” Penny said defensively, holding her hands out in front of her. She pushed her hands into her pockets, looked out across the yard. “I’m sorry. I won’t press. I think… I’m going to leave now.”

  Hank nodded.

  She looked at him and smiled. “You do need some time to yourself. I can tell. I won’t call again. You know my number.”

  She reached out to him awkwardly. Hank peeked at her under his eyebrows, moved reluctantly toward her. They embraced.

  Hank breathed in the smell of her, pressed his lips to her cheek and then to the hollow of her neck. He didn’t say he loved her. He’d never told her he loved her, and didn’t know if he would ever feel that way. It was shitty, but there it was, and he was ashamed of it. He did whisper, softly in her ear, “Thanks. I promise I’ll call. When I’m fit for human company again, I’ll call.” Penny hugged him tight before breaking away.

  She waved to him as she backed from the drive. He could see tears glimmering in her eyes—tears that would be shed later, when she was out of his sight, he knew—and he felt even more miserable.

  “You’ve really got a knack for hurting the women who love you,” Hank murmured to himself.

  He trudged to the kitchen door.

  25.

  Steve was in the guest bedroom packing his bags when Hank came inside. He didn’t have much to pack. He traveled light. He was stuffing the last of his belongings into his duffel when Hank stepped into the doorway. Hank saw his brother-in-law pause for a moment, then resume his packing. Steve didn’t speak.

  “Steve—“

  “Was that your girlfriend?” Steve asked mildly. He didn’t turn, but spoke to Hank with his back to him.

  Hank felt breathless and ashamed. He scratched his eyelid, then sighed. “Yeah.”

  “How long were you cheating on my sister?” Steve asked. He finished packing, zipped his bag with a jerk and stood straight. He didn’t turn. He continued to face the wall, waiting on Hank’s reply.

  “It’s been going on for a while.”

  “Did she know?”

  “No. I don’t think so.”

  “Is that why she killed herself?”

  “I don’t know!”

  Hank squeezed his hands together nervously, realized how sweaty they were and wiped his palms on his pant legs.

  “If I could take it all back, I would,” Hank said, knowing how lame that sounded, but it was the truth.

  “I’m going home now,” Steve said in a quiet voice.

  “Do you hate me?” Hank asked.

  Steve turned finally. He looked at Hank and smiled. “Hate you? No. I’m just disappointed. I understand. I really do. We all have our dirty little secrets, don’t we? Every one of us. God knows I did, before I came out of the closet. So what’s her name?”

  “Penny.”

  “Is she nice?”

  Hank shrugged. “Yeah. She’s sweet. A little pushy sometimes.”

  Still smiling, Steve nodded. “I’m glad you won’t be alone after everyone goes home.”

  “I don’t even know if we’re still… an item. I was thinking about breaking up with her right before Mary died. I was actually going to confess everything that night, tell Mary about my… uh, my mistress. Come clean and let the chips fall where they may. But I was a little late, I guess. Like that old saying: a day late and a dollar short.”

  “Well… if you still care for her, see where things go. Don’t push her away just because you feel guilty. Life’s too short to worry what anyone else thinks.”

  Steve moved aside his bag, sat on the edge of the bed. “I was in love,” he went on. “That’s why I came out. It was a guy named Preston. He was an older guy, very protective, very good-looking. And, you know, it’s rare to find someone who can look past this—“ gesturing at his heavily scarred face. “We were thinking about moving in together. He wanted me to come out first, though. He didn’t want our relationship to be my dirty little secret. He’d come out to his friends and family a long time ago and believed honesty was the best policy. Well, you know how that turned out. Mom and Dean went apeshit and disowned me. I was so confused and hurt I broke up with him. Tried to go straight again.” Steve laughed bitterly. “That didn’t go so well. I tried to get him back later, but he’d already moved on. I still… I’m still in love with him, Hank. I ache for him every minute of the day.”

  Hank frowned sympathetically. “I understand what you’re trying to tell me. I do. And I promise I’ll take your advice. I just need some time by myself right now to get my head straight.”

  “That’s sensible,” Steve said, nodding. “I just don’t want you to make the same mistake I did. I spent most of my life alone and miserable because I was worried what my mother and brother would think of me if they knew the truth.”

  “No more secrets,” Hank said.

  Steve smiled. “No more secrets.”

  Steve rose then and grabbed the handles of his bags.

  “You sure you won’t stay one more night?” Hank asked.

  “I really need to get home.”

  “All right, little bro.” Hank threw his arm across the smaller man’s shoulders as they traversed the hallway.

  “I always liked it when you called me ‘little bro’,” Steve said. “I’ve always thought of you as my big brother, not just my brother-in-law.”

  “And I’ve always considered you my little brother,” he said. “You always will be, Steve. I can’t begin to thank you for all you’ve done for me these last three days, and I want you to know that I always loved your sister. I know I was a shitty husband, but I loved her. I never stopped loving her.”

  “I know. I could see it in your eyes when you looked at her.”

  They walked across the den, through the kitchen and out the pat
io door. The sun had crossed the summit of the sky and was beginning its slow roll toward the horizon. The heat was still a physical thing, a hot heavy blanket, the cicadas whirring in the trees. Twenty-five miles away, Mary lay in darkness.

  They embraced on the patio.

  “You be careful driving home,” Hank said.

  “You be careful, too.”

  They were both a little misty-eyed.

  Steve turned and started to walk to his car. He stopped a few feet away. He stood motionless a moment, staring at his vehicle. Hank was about to ask him what was wrong when his shoulders slumped and he turned back toward him.

  The darkness in his brother-in-law’s eyes froze his guts.

  “I can’t leave,” Steve said in a breathless squeak.

  His eyes gleamed from the hollows of their sockets, bright with dread. It was almost, Hank thought, a look of terror.

  “I have a terrible feeling,” Steve confessed. “You need to know the truth, Hank. Before I go. You need to know everything.”

  26.

  “Are you sure you want to go through with this?” Hank asked.

  He’d filled a glass at the tap for his brother-in-law and stood watching as Steve brought it to his lips and drank. They’d returned inside. Steve was sitting in his usual spot on the far side of the dining room table, his back to the window. That’s where he always sat, even when Hank and Mary first bought the house, back when Steve was fresh out of high school.

  Steve’s hands, Hank saw, were trembling violently. He was shaking like someone with Parkinson’s, his flesh pale and ashy except for the pockmarks and scars that marred the surface of his cheeks and forehead. They were bright red and hectic looking, his scars. And there were so many of them. If it wasn’t for all the scars, he would have been a handsome man. Maybe even beautiful, with his denim blue eyes and blond hair.

  It disturbed Hank to see his brother-in-law trembling so violently. Steve was normally a calm and collected person, almost serene. But not now. Hank had never seen anyone shaking so badly.