Unravelled (14 page)

The noise of the crowd on the television cheering almost drowns out the ringing telephone next to the couch. Adam leans over and gestures at me to turn down the volume as he picks up the phone. I am riveted by the playbacks of the last six, but when I feel the air next to me change the television no longer holds my attention. It’s as if someone turned the air-conditioning down a few degrees.

Adam has now been on the phone for maybe two minutes and has not said much more than “Yes, I understand” and “Hmm”. I look at his face and can see that he is not on the receiving end of good news. He nicked himself shaving this morning and I feel the uncanny unction to kiss it better. This inappropriate thought yanks me back to reality.

“
Erin
, I am truly sorry to hear that. We will be there tomorrow.”

I blink a few times in confusion.
Erin
? Why has he not asked to speak to me? A bad feeling enters my body like damp in an old flat. Even my bones feel cold with dread. Adam puts down the phone and turns to me.

“Who died?” Death is what has crawled through my soul the moment I felt the atmosphere next to me change. My voice is quiet and the tears are ready to fall for the person whose name Adam is going to give to me.

“Pam.” Adam’s voice is equally quiet and I can imagine that
Erin
told him the impact this news would have on me. But nothing ever prepared me for what I’m feeling right now.

It feels as if someone kicked me in my stomach and I bend over with a load groan. A pain starts deep in my soul, travels trough my heart and starts pushing at the back of my eyes. I know that I am about to cry, but the tears just don’t want to come. I concentrate on breathing and realise that I’m doing it loudly, so loudly that it sounds like a series of groans. Somewhere through this fog I can hear Adam saying something, but his words don’t reach me.

No. Whether I said it out loud or not does not concern me. I just hope that the gods hear my objection to their choice. I realise that my one hand is pressed tightly over my mouth and I’m whimpering. Oh god, the tears are coming.

It is amazing how many thoughts can go through one’s mind at a time like this. This ridiculous thought crosses my mind that I’m very unsexy at the moment and I laugh with a weak hiccough. Then images of Pam float through my mind. Pam and I in her kitchen while she bakes my favourite cookies. Pam touching my hand, like she did so often, telling me to be true to myself. Pam and I in her kitchen working our way through my three bottles of cheap wine. Another wave of yawning pain washes over me and I lay my forehead on my knees and weep.

I weep for myself. Not for Pam. I weep that I’ll never be able to listen to Pam sharing her wisdom with me again. I weep for the times I phoned her when she was on my mind, knowing that she didn’t need those calls – it was I who needed it. I weep in memory of the last time I saw her and how much we laughed that day. I take a deep breath, and then again I weep when I think of our last conversation when she told me that I must be true to myself. She always said that.

After an unsure amount of time I become aware of a strong pair of arms around me and realise that I have been crying against Adam’s chest. I can’t remember getting there. I lie there for a few more moments shuddering with grief and concentrating to breathe. After a few focused breathes I lift my head and look at Adam through tear-stained eyes.

“Your shirt is very wet.” There is a very large dark stain on his blue t-shirt. I’m surprised that I can still function after losing so much fluids, but I sit up and stare straight ahead.

“Here, have some water.” He offers his half-full glass that was standing on the coffee table and watches me empty it. “Can I get you anything else?”

I want to tell him to go and get Pam from the place where she is, but the words get stuck in my throat and I start crying softly. I put my face in my hands and allow Sorrow to work his way through my system, knowing it to be the best way to deal with it. If I feel its full force now, I’ll have more strength to deal with tomorrow. I hope.

Another length of time passes and when I return to the present I find Adam next to me with a roll of toilet paper.

“I don’t know where the tissues are.” He says softly and pushes a wayward strand of hair behind my ear in such a tender manner that I almost lose control again. I take the roll from him and give a strangled laugh.

“Wow, that was intense.” I roll a handful of toilet paper off the roll and dry my face. Another handful and I blow my nose. Where does all these fluids come from? As if on cue Adam hands me another glass of water. I down it in one gulp and realise there was some alcohol in it. Good. I lean back against the couch and close my eyes. I feel Adam take my hand and lace his fingers through mine. The tears are stinging against the back of my eyelids.

I don’t know how long we sat like that, but I will remember Adam’s kindness for the next few lifetimes. I sigh loudly and turn my head to him.

“Thank you.”

“Any time.”

“Did
Erin
say when?”

“Late this morning. She phoned him earlier to tell him that she was leaving and he immediately went to her.” Adam looks at me for a moment weighing his question. “I’m sorry to ask you this, but who was Pam?”

His usage of the past tense stabs at my heart and I take a few more calming breathes.

“My angel.” I smile softly. “She is … was…oh my god.” I cry some more, use another few handfuls of the toilet roll and concentrate on my breathing. “She was
Erin
’s aunt. She was also the most amazing woman I’ve ever met. Eccentric to the core – typical artist. She was in the process of selling her art gallery. She never got married and lived with her four cats: Arthur, Guinevere, Robin and Alexander. If one cat died, he or she immediately got replaced by another of the same name.” I wonder what is going to happen to Arthur IV, Guinevere III, Robin V and Alexander II.

“She also played a very important role in my life.” How important I’ll never be able to tell anyone. Pam was my inspiration. She was the one who told me that I could make a go of the company when Erin and I were talking about it. She pushed me to move on with my life and develop myself. She was the one who told me to not define myself by the men who were in my past and to design my own destiny. She always knew what to say, when to say it and especially how to say it.

“She’s been fighting cancer for years now, but the last few months have been really bad. We all knew that she had limited time with us, but it never really sunk in that she might actually leave us. I suppose I simply didn’t want to believe that she was mortal. Pam will always be immortal to me.” Pam would’ve loved to be immortal, to live forever. But we can’t always have what we want. “I guess it is better for her now. She hated the treatments and meds and now she can sit, or stand up there and look at us being silly down here.”

“
Erin
said that the funeral will be on Wednesday. I’m sure you heard me tell him that we’ll go through tomorrow. We can come back on Wednesday after the funeral.”

“We?”

“You’re in no condition to be driving, Alex. I’ll take you.”

“Tomorrow is Monday.”

“Yes?”

“What about work?”

“Work can wait. We are both on top of things and you have your team sorted out. Whatever needs to be done in the next three days can be done by them.” What happened to Mr Wall Street-workaholic? “And we have our smart phones in case there’s something they can’t handle.” Ah. The workaholic is not totally gone.

“You don’t have to do this. You didn’t even know Pam.”

“Alex.” He says my name as if it is a paragraph filled with meaning. “I want to do this.”

“Thank you.” My voice breaks, my chin quivers, my eyes fill up and I reach for the toilet roll once again. His perceptive kindness comes at a time when it only encourages my dehydration. I drop the toilet roll, cover my mouth and start crying softly again. Adam reaches for the toilet roll, hands me a handful of toilet paper and pulls me against his chest. I lean into him and work at enlarging the dark wet spot on his t-shirt. We sit like that until it is dark and I’m cried out.

A notorious sound and the feel of a hairy head on my lap makes me look down. Blossom has settled on the couch next to me and is enjoying the moment of not being chased off the furniture. I sigh a laugh and realise that life as we know it continues, even though a life ended somewhere else.

Chapter 12

Miles of country side roll by us as Adam pushes his SUV way past the legal limit. I have my face turned away from the man next to me. The last few hours was just too much for me. The preparation for Pam’s memorial service went without a hitch and it was good to see everyone again, even if it was at such a sad occasion. After the initial shock of Pam’s death, I cried a bit more in the privacy of my room and then calmed down. The thought of doing the ‘ugly cry’ on Adam’s chest still has me cringing in embarrassment. If the first week in his house didn’t make me change my opinion about him, the last few days definitely has.

He’s shown himself to be amazingly sensitive. I honestly thought he was one of those cavemen kind of men who never show emotion and is all work and no play, but he’s proved me wrong. On the way to the farm early Monday morning he kept the conversation light and asked about Pam without allowing me to get all sad again. By the time we got to the farm, I was laughing and chatting away. It was only when we got out the car and were greeted by the family that the sombreness of the situation returned to us.

While I was telling Adam about all Pam’s idiosyncrasies in the car, I decided to not be too sad about Pam changing this life for the next. She had an amazing life and I was going to celebrate it by living my life to the fullest. And in this very corny way I plan to make her immortal.

Monday and Tuesday we spent most of the time organising the funeral and catching up with Erin and the others. I didn’t know Adam and Erin were such good friends – theirs is a bond that I have not often seen between two men. Especially not between a straight man and a genteel soul like
Erin
(read into that very gay).

After our sombre welcome on the farm, we were soon showed to our rooms.
Lydia
, Pam’s sister, gave Adam and I one look and put us in rooms at the opposite ends of her house. Why, I have no idea. The house is huge, typical of farm mansions and
Lydia
has been living there since before
Columbus
discovered
America
, or so it seems. Her husband died fifteen years ago and she’s been running the farm like one would run a military school. Most of our time was spent trying to avoid the many minefields of topics that could lead to another family feud since they’ve only recently recovered from one. We chose to spend a lot of time talking about Pam which in itself is a minefield. It always amazes me how people talk about how wonderful you were when you are dead, but never have a good thing to say about you when you are alive. I wonder what would be said after my demise.

But none of our reminiscing over Pam’s life and the light she brought to all our lives could’ve prepared us for the last few hours. I bite on my lip to no avail. A strangled giggle escapes and I clear my throat hoping Adam didn’t hear.

“Alex.” A low warning.

I clear my throat again and grab my lips with my thumb and index finger squeezing them together in the hope to physically prevent laughter from trickling through my lips. I fail.

“I’m sorry, but surely you can see how funny that was. Oh god! Pam would’ve loved it!!” I can barely finish my sentence through the laughter.

Memorial services are supposed to be, if not sad, at least reverent and serious. You are suppose to reflect on that person’s life and then take stock of your own and re-evaluate your life to make sure that you are moving in the direction the great gods planned for you. The fact that I’m convinced they’re conspiring against me is a topic for another day. It is normal to see a lot of tears and running mascara at a memorial service. Well, there were tears and running mascara, but not because of sadness.

Pam left her last will and testament with her lawyer in which she detailed her last wishes of what we were to do with her remains. She wanted to be cremated and her ashes to be part of the family farm. In a literal sense. This had to be done by her brother James,
Erin
’s father. All this to the family’s undisguised horror.

Pam was the dark horse in her family for the longest time until she was joined by
Erin
and the two of them united in their fight against their very old-fashioned family. Neither of them followed tradition by getting married and making a good wife or husband, or joining the family line of legal eagles. Even in death Pam planned to defy the family by getting her ashes not strewn from a mountain into the breeze or over a lake like in the movies. No, Pam wanted her ashes to be worked into the flowerbeds around the family mansion, so that she can haunt them at night and that the roses will have a fighting chance against
Lydia
’s black fingers.