Aubrey stood silhouetted against the window, contemplating his paper plate of cookies and cake, and the eulogy he had just heard. Pete and Connor joined him, each with their own plate of ladies auxiliary baking, and cup of maudlin coffee. The thick white paint of the window frame had cracked and yellowed over the years, framing the men in a Norman Rockwell moment.
“Well, that was something else, wasn’t it?” Pete said. “Something about a man delivering his own eulogy just seems wrong. Like he got no friends or something.”
Aubrey finished chewing one of Mrs. Ackerbee’s butterscotch brownies, and removed the sweet, sticky goodness form his back teeth before speaking. “I think he just wanted to make sure he was understood. You know how he was about that sort of thing.”
Connor placed his coffee mug on the windowsill and brushed cookie crumbs from the shelf of his belly. “Couldn’t have done it a few years back, what with no recording gear and such. Guess he proved his point about technology and independence. He well and truly got the last word on the subject.”
The floor boards creaked under the mourners footsteps as they made the rounds, shaking hands and sharing condolences. The younger women made the rounds with trays of baking, ensuring no one suffered loss and low blood sugar at the same time.
“That part about the equation, the infinite mutabilty and such, did that make sense to you guys? Aubrey asked.
“Sweet Jesus, no,” replied Pete. “I knew he weren’t a church-goer, but that math stuff was a bugger far as I’m concerned.”
“Some of it was familiar from high school science, but that was a life time ago for guys like us,” Connor said. “That stuff about energy not being destroyed, maintaining constant value against innumerable variables and intractable watchamacallits. He lost me. No disrespect, but that’s a lot of big ideas for a fella that spent his life selling carpets.”
“The shop was quiet. He liked to read,” said Aubrey as he helped himself to another of Mrs. Ackerbee’s brownies. “I think the idea came about when he ordered those Persian rugs for the new hotel a few years back. He became fascinated with the patterns and symbols. Lots of symmetry and history in the rugs, or so he said.”
Pete scrunched his face and cocked his head. “So, that part about being a thread in time, becoming part of the complexity – he was saying the afterlife is a carpet?”
“Great puckering Christ in a lemon tree, don’t start with the symbolism. My youngest, Marie, married herself some English professor. The sonofabitch can’t even say hello without working Shakespeare,or some other dead guy, into the convesation.” Connor blurted out.
Aubrey made a sweeping gesture with his coffee mug, taking in the dark suited men in one corner, the purple-hatted ladies around the coffee table, the polyester busybodies in the kitchen, and the awkward teenagers on the porch, a generation yet to be as comfortably acquainted with death. “I think he meant we, his community, are the carpet, or the equation. When a variable changes, we need to re-evaluate.”
There was a moment of silence between the three men. Eyes down, they studied their plates in what could’ve been mistaken for a moment of reflection.
“Well, gotta get back to the garage. Left the new kid in charge, and I ought to go see what he cost me,” Pete said.
“Yeah, promised the missus I’d grab groceries on the way back. Good to see you guys again.” Connor shook their hands before leaving.
Aubrey spied Mrs. Ackerbee wrapping up half a tray of brownies in the kitchen. He got that twinkle in his eye. “All right, gents,” he tipped an imaginary hat to his departing friends, “we’ll see you next time around.” With that, he was off to the kitchen to offer Mrs. Ackerbee a ride home.
super dialogue here and great phrasing – love maudlin coffee and great puckering christ in the lemon tree. fab tale per usual. always my first of the day and never disappointed!
Perfetto! Great phrasing here, loved “Framing the men in a Norman Rockwell moment.” Also liked the ‘hickiness’ of the dialogue contrasted with the ‘hi-end’ stuff — “knew he weren’t a churchgoer” and “mutability” — builds good tension. Peace, Linda
Thanks, Linda.
The dialogue was fun once I established the characters. I got to have multiple personalities for an afternoon!
Very good story. I actually know someone who IS always spouting literary “things” even when doing the most mundane things…heh.
Enjoyed this very much.
I love this story and the scene-setting and the tone. I especially like that, in spite of the message of the self-eulogy, rather than re-evaluating the change in variables, they go about doing what they’ve always done.
Jeff Posey
Nice tight work, Trevor. I, too, enjoyed the dialogue. Materfully done. “Framing the men in a Norman Rockwell moment” was a great phrase.
This made me laugh
“Aubrey finished chewing one of Mrs. Ackerbee’s butterscotch brownies, and removed the sweet, sticky goodness form his back teeth before speaking.”
Such a visual! Nice one, Trev.
Great, Trev! Loved the dialogue and unique phrasing. Funerals give me the creeps anyway and I’ve never understood the ‘stand around and eat snacks afterwards’ thing.
Great introduction and nice tone. Love the dialogue, especially the comments about the deceased delivering his own eulogy: quickly establishes character of the men talking and the deceased.
Thanks, David.
this piece didn’t start out being about ‘tone,’ but turned out that way, so I went with it.
This was simply a delight to read. I loved it. There were so many great lines, I can’t list them all, but I really liked this one:
The younger women made the rounds with trays of baking, ensuring no one suffered loss and low blood sugar at the same time.
The whole thing was laced with little gems like that. Very funny and very philosophical all at the same time. Neat trick, that.
~jon
Terrific!
“they studied their plates in what could’ve been mistaken for a moment of reflection.” says it all really!
Good flow of dialogue, and I am left a little sad that the dearly departed’s last message should go unheeded
I bunch of guys whose minds were asleep at a wake. I like the idea that the deceased may have found the key to immortality and time-travel in a complex carpet pattern.
well, besides now craving a butterscotch brownie…I love this concept. Secret messages in persian rugs, a new theory about time and energy?! The fact that the guy knew his “friends” well enough that they would never get the importance of his last message and so delivered it himself. This is a guy I wish we could learn more about! Really enjoyed this, thanks!
I loved the language and expressions. I think I met this guy, the dead one, once.
That was terrific, T! I loved the colloquialisms and the juxtaposition between the lofty concepts being discussed and the broadcloth characters was superb! What a wonderful ride! Delicious! This is a really nice piece! thanks for posting! -K