After the service, the body was carried out to a hearse and Eric was one of the pallbearers. He drove behind the hearse with his mother and Jeff, aggravated that Jeff was listening to the radio and humming along with the melody of some old rock song from the seventies.
The wind was blowing and leaves were all over the cemetery, rattling softly in the background as a priest stood to deliver a sermon that he had memorized and repeated to the point where he spoke it with neither passion nor conviction.
Eric laid a flower on the casket which had stayed closed the whole time. He didn’t get to see his father again to say good bye. As he was walking with his mother back to the car, he noticed the man from the funeral home again. The man stood by the grave until the dirt piled high on top of it and then he said something and turned away toward the parking lot.
“I’ll meet you at the car, Mom,” Eric said. He walked back toward the man and stood in his way as he tried to get by. “Hi,” he said. “Hello,” the man said. “Were you a friend of my father’s?” The man’s lips parted in a smile. “You’re Eric, ah? Your dad talked a lot about you.” He thrust out his hand. “Thomas Keets.” Eric shook it. “Eric Holden.” “I was with your father in India when he was taken from us.” Eric felt his heart skip a beat. “You were with him?” “He talked about you quite a lot. Said that you were the one thing he didn’t regret in his life.” “How long did you know him for?”
“Well, me and your father went back a ways. But despite that, you’d be surprised how close men can get out in the jungle, away from the weight of civilization.” Thomas looked back to the grave once more and took out a pair of sunglasses, flipping them on and turning back to Eric. “I’m leaving tonight but I’d like to talk to you before I go. Can we meet somewhere?”
Thomas spoke plainly and without circumlocution. He waited patiently for an answer, not seeming particularly worried that he wouldn’t hear what he wanted.
“All right,” Eric said. “There’s a bar south of the university campus called McPaul’s. I can come by around four.”
“That’s fine,” Thomas said. He put his hand out and Eric shook it again. “It was nice to meet James’ son. I had an image of you in my head but you don’t resemble it,” he said with a smile.
Eric watched him leave. Thomas walked without any pretense, like he didn’t realize or care that others could be watching him. He didn’t look back and didn’t say good bye to anybody. Eric turned away and faced his father’s grave. Tomorrow, it would just be a slab of marble sticking out of the ground. There were people around the cemetery placing flowers on headstones and speaking to them, keeping them clean with small dusters and rags, but he couldn’t imagine doing that. That type of hanging on could drive you crazy. Besides, maybe his father was now at one giant party? Who knows? “Bye Pop,” he said, and left.
CHAPTER
10
The bar was dirty and cluttered with posters, sports memorabilia and neon signs proclaiming what type of beer was preferred. There were three pool tables taking up what little free space there was and it stunk of spills that hadn’t been cleaned. It wasn’t crowed since the night had just begun, but with few other bars nearby it would be filled with people in less than a couple hours.
Eric sat at the bar sipping a Long Island iced tea and smoking clove cigarettes. He had an amazing fake ID made almost three years ago. A friend of his had his own machinery and printed off ID’s for all their friends.
But Eric had been drinking long before the ID; usually with his dad and always in foreign countries that didn’t care who they served.
Thomas walked in and stood by the door, scanning faces in booths and tables before spotting Eric. He sat down next to him and ordered a scotch and water. “May I have one of those?” he said, motioning to the package of clove cigarettes. Eric gave him one and lit it with a lighter. Thomas took a long pull, letting the smoke whirl around him before he spoke. “Do you know how your father died?” “A lion.” “Tiger, actually. At least they tell me it was a tiger. Regardless, he died saving my life. I wanted you to know that.” “That doesn’t make me feel much better.”
Thomas nodded. “I’m a guide,” he said, as if he hadn’t heard him. “Primarily just Andhra Pradesh but occasionally I’ll go farther south if there’s work, a wealthy client or whatnot. I had your father and one of his friends from London with me then. They wanted to hunt bull elephants for awhile, which is illegal, but a special license can be granted if you have the money. I suppose there’s licenses for any manner of things if you have the money.” He stopped and took a drink; chasing it with water. “You know, tribes in Kenya think the big cats are spirits of their ancestors. There to protect the land from invaders.”
“And you believe that?”
“No. We’re easy prey. Somewhere down the road the one that killed your father got a liking for us.” Thomas finished off his scotch and ordered another. He drank what remained of the water, wiping his lips with a napkin. “But I’ve never seen one like this before,” he said. He looked into Eric’s eyes. “I’m going back near the coast around Kavali with another group. I thought perhaps you would want to go.”
Eric finished his cigarette and took out another one but didn’t light it. “Why would I want to go?”
“I suppose it helps. To see where your father was and what happened. I lost my father when I was young too. He was a Captain in Her Majesty’s Royal Navy and died in South Africa. When I was old enough, I moved there… and, anyway, it helped.” Thomas finished his second scotch and pulled a business card out of his wallet. He put it on the bar next to the lighter and threw some cash for the drink. “Call me if you like; there’ll be little expense for you.” He patted Eric’s shoulder and gave a soft, almost melancholy, grin. “I am truly sorry about your father.”
Thomas turned and left without looking back.
Eric drank a little more and when a band started setting up to play he left. The air was lukewarm and he liked the shadows the moon cast over the streets and sidewalks.
He decided it was better not to sleep at home and rode a bus down to his mother’s house and used his own key on the front door. All the lights were off and the house was quiet as he went through the front room and into the kitchen. He took a bottle of wine from a cupboard and a glass out the dishwasher and sat at the dining table. The wine was a good red, much better quality than he thought Jeff or his mom would have. It was silky going down his throat and warmed his belly.
Footsteps coming down the stairwell and seconds later Jeff was standing in the kitchen. He was wearing a tank top and boxer shorts and stared at Eric without saying anything. He went to the fridge and took out a plate of leftovers, removing the tinfoil and shoving it into the microwave. “You’re drunk,” he said, turning to Eric and folding his arms. “I don’t like you coming to my house drunk.”
“It’s not your house, Jeff.”
They sat staring at each other, the only thing between them silence and hatred. Jeff was bigger and had seen a lot of fights since he spent some time in prison, but Eric knew he wasn’t very fast. The microwave sounded and beeped three times but they didn’t move.
“Your mom’s asleep,” Jeff said. “I know you want a piece a me, so,” he held out his arms, “here I am. Come take it.”
Eric’s fingers tightened around the glass and his stomach fluttered, but he didn’t budge from his chair. Attacking him was what Jeff wanted. And he wasn’t sure he’d come out on top.
Jeff took a couple steps toward him, a sardonic smile across his face. “You know what your dad’s problem was? He wasn’t a real man. A real man knows how to fuck his wife. That was why they got divorced, did you know that? Your dad couldn’t fuck her right. But me, hell, I fuck the shit out of her every night in your dad’s bed and she loves it. And you know what else she likes? She likes when I smack her around. I mean, sometimes, when I’m loaded, I go too far and we gotta go to the hospital, but that bitch loves takin’ a punch when it comes from me.”
Eric was on his feet. He swung at Jeff with a right and Jeff tried to duck but it caught him on the cheek. Eric threw another punch, landing on Jeff’s skull as he ducked down. Jeff came up with a punch that landed squarely on
