Disasterpiece

It felt like the whole Michael situation all over again, except this time the guy was actually decent and caring…not condescending and belittling. I felt ashamed and betrayed by my own feelings, not only had I had the epiphany that I didn’t like Brandon in that way, but I also felt myself slipping into the old habit of staying with someone to save face. I could not bring myself to break Brandon by telling him I didn’t feel the same way, I knew that it seemed selfish in a way to live on false pretences, but I didn’t know what else to do.

To add to my personal rain cloud, I received a call from the funeral director to say Uncle Frank’s ashes were ready to be picked up. So after an awkward goodbye with Brandon, where I’m sure my face flushed tomato red the whole time; I was driving Josie’s car to the funeral parlour.

I was also now faced with the massive decision of what to do with the ashes; while Uncle Frank had written in his will that he wanted to be cremated, he hadn’t written any specific details as to what was to happen after that. The idea of keeping his ashes on a mantel felt a little morbid and unnerving to me, I couldn’t imagine walking into the lounge room and looking up at an urn, having to think each time that “Oh hey, my Uncle’s in there!” – I couldn’t endure living with that reminder.

So the question now begged – where should his ashes be scattered? As far as I knew the bar and his home were the only places of significance to him, and neither seemed an appropriate choice. Most people like to throw ashes off cliffs into the sea, but Iowa had but a few murky lakes and water reserves on private farms; hardly places of spiritual freedom. I mean there were heaps of corn fields...but just because you live in Iowa doesn’t mean you like corn.

I had a lot of thinking to do.

After picking up the ashes I placed them carefully on the passenger seat and drove slowly to Uncle Frank’s house. I knew it would take me a while to decide what to do with them, so I didn’t want them as a constant reminder at my place. At least here it would be like he had finally come ‘home’.

I positioned the urn on the bookshelf in the lounge room, between a Gene Simmons figurine and a photo of Uncle Frank and I from back in the day. Stepping back, I paused to observe the placement; taking it in with a bated breath – what was I going to do about everything?

Not able to bear looking at it anymore, I turned, making my way into the kitchen where the boxes still remained half full from Josie and I’s cleaning attempt yesterday. Deciding that the dullness of packing would be the best way to go to relieve my mind of everything, I picked up where we had left off.

Despite (or perhaps in spite) of my mood, I had a pretty productive day. I managed to finish going through the kitchen and started on the spare room where I use to sleep when I’d stay over. There weren’t too many loose items in there, but there was a lot of furniture which I had no use for, so I decided to talk to the local op shop and see if they could make use of it.

It was pretty much bang on closing time when I got arrived at the op shop, but the little old lady working greeted me with a bright smile as I walked in.

“Hello dear how are you?” she welcomed from behind the register, I walked over to her.

“Hi there I’m good, how are you?” I replied

“I’m splendid. Can I help you with something?” she asked, obviously eager to provide top notch customer service.

“Maybe…I was just wondering if you need furniture donations? It’s just that my Uncle…” I paused realising this was the first time I’d admit his death to someone else out loud; with a sharp inhale of breath I continued. “Well he died, and I’ve got a whole house of furniture I don’t have any use for,” I explained. The lady’s face turned from a bright smile, to a soft sympathetic one.

“It must be a hard time for you,” she consoled. “Does he own many things?”

“A fair amount,” I replied.

“Are you planning on keeping much?” she asked, I thought for a moment. I had barely put anything in the keep box so far, maybe a couple of items, if that – I didn’t figure the rest of the house would be much different.

“I don’t think so…maybe his records and rock memorabilia,” I shrugged.

“Well if you like I can send Gary over tomorrow to have a look at the house and we might be able to clear it out for you as long as you say what you want to keep?” she suggested.

“That would be amazing,” I gushed, not only would it save me going through everything by myself, but it also solve the problem of what to do with it all. The lady pulled out a diary and took down all my details, promising that Gary would call me tomorrow morning.

Feeling a little uplifted, I strode out of the shop with a grin on my face. It was one weight lifted from my shoulders, though the progress meant I’d now have to consider what to do with the house once it was empty. Shaking the negativity off, I walked straight past my car parked on the side on the road, deciding to take a little stroll around town.

It was getting ridiculously cold now, even with layers on I was still shivering as I walked. I pulled the zip of my jacket right up and shoved my hands in my pocket. My feet kicked at the scattered puddles on the pathway created by the random falls of snow we’d been having. I stopped by the window of an electrical shop to catch a few moments of news…something about snow storms bearing down on the east coast. After a brief moment of ‘that sucks for them’ I continued my walk, catching up behind a couple of guys carrying bags from the local music shop. Not bothered trying to overtake them, I slowed down my pace, keeping a safe distance behind them.

“…it’s closed down now,” I caught the end of their conversation.

“Really? Man that sucks, there are no good venues in this shit hole of a town!” the other one grumbled.

“Unless you like fucking jazz or something…this place sucks, you’d think we’d get some decent bands touring after Slipknot got big,” the first one complained, the very mention of Slipknot made my stomach flip.

“Even if they wanted to tour there’s nowhere to play,” the other pointed out. I stopped in my tracks pondering for a minute as they walked on. Even when we were teenagers there were no good hangouts, no venues, no bands touring. You had to travel interstate if you wanted to see someone live, and who has the money for that. We use to have to make our own fun, and that wasn’t overly exciting at the best of times. And now kids these days just sit inside playing video games and chatting on social media, not bothered venturing out because they know there’s nothing to do.

The tips of my fingers buzzed with excitement. I was now a business owner after all, and while the business did reasonably well, it was still just another pub with the typical regular’s…maybe it was time for a renovation?

Suddenly, I really wanted to speak to Corey, feeling that he would be able to tell me if it was a good idea or not…he was in a band after all, he’d know if other bands would actually want to come and play in Des Moines. Pulling my phone from my pocket, I went to search for Corey’s number when the phone lit up by itself…Josie was calling.

“Hey chika!” I answered excitedly, wanting to share my idea with her.

“Hey I’m sorry, but please just shut up and listen to this…you’ve got to hear it even if you don’t want to,” she rushed quickly, her voice low and barely audible. I scrunched my face in confusion, but she said no more. Instead I heard her footsteps creeping, followed by the sound on a door opening just slightly. A couple of voices filtered into the phone next…familiar voices. She must’ve been holding her phone up towards them.

“You’re so fucking blind!” I heard Corey’s unmistakable voice yell in frustration. “You managed to get rid of that conniving bitch the first time, then meet an amazing new girl who thinks the whole fucking world of you, but you don’t do anything about it! Instead you run back to Miss fucking I’m-with-the-band-aren’t-I-important and ruin any chance at having an amazing life. I’m sorry dude, but I find it really hard to feel sad for you when you’re wallowing in your own grief that you bought upon yourself,” he expelled in a torrent of high decibel harshness.

“Don’t you think I know that?!” the other voice replied in frustration, I almost stopped breathing when I realised it was Joey. Now I wasn’t just cold from the weather, I was frozen with horrific anticipation and worry – I knew they were talking about me, but I just couldn’t fathom it.

“Then why did you do it?!” Corey countered back in equal frustration. There was a long sigh followed by some footsteps and the sound of someone sitting down on a leather couch.

“I can’t explain it,” I barely caught Joey mumbling. There were more footsteps and again the sound of someone sitting down.

“You know you can still tell her to fuck off,” Corey said; I was really concentrating now to hear them, they seemed to have moved further away from the phone.

“I know,” Joey sighed.

“But that doesn’t guarantee anything,” Corey told him.

“I know,” Joey sighed again.

“You messed up pretty bad,” Corey pointed out.

“I know,” Joey sounded gloomy, like he was completely aware of that fact.

“Are you going to try and fix it?” Corey asked. At that moment my heart stopped, I scrunched my face as hard as it would go to make sure I didn’t miss that answer…even though I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear it, I knew I had to…I knew it would mean everything to me to know the answer, to know if he actually felt the same way.

“Hey what’re you doing?” Paul’s hearty voice came. Josie fumbled with the phone, it sounded like she almost dropped it as she swore and it disconnected…leaving me with nothing but a painful chest and a hell of a lot of unanswered questions.

Slowly I drew the phone from my ear, holding it out in front of me I stared wide-eyed at the blank screen. What did it all mean? Did Joey agree with everything Corey said because he liked me, or because he knew I liked him and he ruined our friendship, which he wanted to continue platonically? Was he actually going to break up with his ex again? And most importantly, if he did, was he going to make an effort to try and fix things between us, and how would he do that?

My head was spinning; all my excitement about the bar and sorting out Uncle Frank’s house had completely dissipated; instead I was left with the feelings from last night again; fighting with myself about a relationship reality and a dream.