"The Doom Statues" - Chapter 48

Even in the absence of bodies, funeral preparations begin immediately. Though Jeremy and to a lesser extent Emily assure the others that they certainly don’t need to throw everything down to travel an hour and attend, nearly all involved with Otherwise do precisely that. The retreat grinds to a standstill on this miserable and atypically drizzling Friday afternoon, even with so much to do in preparation for yet another tour day tomorrow. Among the notable absences are Kidwell, though he does send an eye-popping flower arrangement, with a card bearing the suspicious appearance that it was written in some female’s neat cursive, most likely that of his secretary.

However, he does also foot the bill for this entire ceremony and burial. Waving off all arguments to the contrary, Kidwell had insisted he was responsible for this, also making a couple of weak jokes about how insurance was paying for it in the process. Jeremy’s not sure what to think about this. It feels a great deal like a parent trying to buy the affection of his children. He appreciates it, but shudders at the notion that Kidwell would in any way consider himself a father figure now, or that Jeremy would need such – parents or no parents. If that were the case, hell, he actually vibes a great deal better with Liam Blodgett. True, Liam also failed to attend today, one of the few holdouts. Jeremy never asked for nor received an explanation, and doesn’t care, really, for it’s more soothing in some respects to see there are people whose routines aren’t interrupted by this. Liam presumably has all sorts of administrative details to attend to up there at Otherwise. Besides, as a couple people have pointed out, nobody can recall him leaving the grounds period in all the time they’ve been holed up there, one of only a handful who might make that claim. So either his dedication is astounding or…well, maybe there’s something else going on.

“Sorry about your parents, Jeremy,” Kathy Drucker had told him just this morning. They were hanging out up in that third story workshop, he and many of the others already clad in their dress attire for this service. She was glazing a few pieces real quick before getting ready herself, and others were also wrapping up a few last details, while everybody else wandered around in some sort of antsy daze. Jeremy was thinking he just noticed this one small room tucked into an alcove to the left of the pottery ovens, one which presently features a nearly life sized plastic doll standing in the middle of the room and little else. Absently staring at that before Kathy’s comment jarred him loose.

“Yeah, thanks…,” he sighed. “Even though it’s the cliché, I get it now, when you see other people on TV or whatever after a tragedy, saying they just wanna know what happened.”

Kathy nods and suggests, “for the closure.”

“Well, I don’t know if I’d call it closure, or what else I would call it. It’s just that it literally gnaws at you constantly, when you have no clue what might have happened.”

She nods again, but is busy, with latex gloved hands, dipping a brush into a dish full of clear looking liquid, applying it to the latest object. “Well…I’m not sure this is any consolation, but,” she offers without looking up, “I really believe it will turn out to be some freak accident. As opposed to…some of these other wild theories I’ve heard.”

“You think so?”

“Yes, I do. I mean look around this place. Don’t get me wrong, I love it here, but who knows what kind of weird chemicals are to be found inside this building alone. Maybe it was something they accidentally ingested?”

“I hear if you eat too much the horseradish, it can kill,” Rafael interjects from across the room. He has these thick plastic ski goggles on, though by appearances only inventorying wood pieces on some clipboard he’s holding. Jeremy wasn’t even aware he was listening until now.

“Horseradish?” Jeremy repeats. Rafael just shrugs and returns to his work.

Kathy shares a puzzled look with Jeremy and chuckles, continues, “anyway, I don’t know about that, but weird things happen all the time. Weird things that nobody can explain. Or eventually they are explained, and it turns out to something very rational and real, even if the odds of it happening are astronomical.”

Jeremy bites on his lip, pondering this. At last tells her, “yeah, I’m sure that’s true, but I don’t know if it changes anything. They’re still gone, you know? And as far as we go, I mean…people were already talking about bailing on this place. I’d be surprised if there weren’t a bunch of defections, now.” He looks around the room, taking in the kilns, and the inventoried wood, the finished pottery pieces everywhere. The silk screen and its attendant material, as well as some of the posters and tee shirts and other artifacts cranked out by such. Or similar objects created using various other combinations, the so-called mixed media techniques he’s heard referenced. That weird little room in the corner, too, illuminated by one purple light, one green light, with its spooky doll just standing there, although boxes stacked outside the room indicate somebody might be working on a project in there soon.

“I know I’m gonna have to reassess what I’m even doing here. Paycheck or no paycheck. I mean, what about you? Don’t you ever wonder what you’re doing here?”

Kathy cackles and repeats, “do I ever wonder what I’m doing here? Yeah, you could say that. Although I think that would apply basically anywhere, to the work I’m doing in general.”

“Really? You and Tom seem, like, you’re these fucking machines, cranking this stuff out. It’s like you never even have to stop and think about it.”

“Is that how it seems?” Kathy chuckles, offers instead, “I really think it’s a form of possession, in many respects.”

“A form of possession?”

“Yes. By that I mean this endless need to keep churning out these pieces. Be glad you’re not among the afflicted. I mean, yes, maybe some of us have found ways to, so to speak, put a best case spin on the situation, and figure out how to make some money from it. But this is just capitalizing on what we’re gonna do anyway. And so maybe feel a little less ridiculous about it.”

Jeremy nods, considering this, then asks, “is pottery, like, considered art art? Or is it more like a craft, like, old ladies doing crafts?”

“Art art?”

“Yeah, uh…I mean, like, with Tom, I know he’s considered this somewhat semi famous like local painter. Are there famous potters? Not to be shitty but I was just thinking...you know, even if you were just as talented or whatever – not that you aren’t, I’m just saying, I actually have no idea – but does that bother you? Or would it, I mean, like the lack of recognition?”

“Umm…”

“Okay, so maybe I’ll shut up now,” Jeremy jokes, “I kind of know what I mean, but it’s coming out wrong, and I’m only making it worse. Yeah, I’ll just shut up now…”

“Okay, sure…,” Kathy agrees, laughing and vaguely mystified herself.

The funeral seems to him an interminable slog. Just the drive there alone, during which it seems to take a freaking half hour or something only to reach Stokely, is miserable, and it only gets worse. Decorum means standing through this, most holding umbrellas, while the preacher drones on, but Jeremy just wants to get the hell out of here the moment it starts. Considering his youth and inexperience, having never dealt with this before, he mostly deferred to other family members, who insisted upon a lengthy service at the funeral home, then driving out here to the grave site. About the only relative who refrained from voicing an opinion was Lenny, and for this Jeremy is eternally grateful. Black sheep or not, Lenny seems to him the most sane, even keeled one of the bunch. Emily and Denise were more fired up about throwing in their two cents’ worth than Lenny, even.

About halfway through this never ending service, Lenny approaches Jeremy, elbows him in the ribs. Son of the deceased or not, Jeremy insisted upon hanging out in the back row of the standing mass of bodies, underneath this mostly barren maple tree. After being elbowed, he glances over at his uncle, who grins and opens up his suit jacket just enough to reveal the pocket within. With his free hand, he reaches inside and hoists a pint bottle of whiskey just enough so that Jeremy can see it. Grins expectantly, eyebrows raised, and shrugs to wordlessly gauge his nephew’s opinion. Jeremy purses his lips and responds to the affirmative, at which point Lenny leads the way back to this line of cars, lining the paved lane nearby.

“How you like it?” Lenny abruptly asks, patting the ass end of a camouflage patterned jeep.

“Huh? What? Seriously?”

“Yeah,” Lenny beams, extracting the whiskey bottle and uncapping it for a swig. Handing the bottle to Jeremy he explains, “figured it might be a good idea to trade in the bike. The leg’s almost healed, but…I don’t know, I’ve always kinda wanted one of these. Hell on gas, but I love it.”

“Pretty sweet,” Jeremy agrees, then pauses to ask, “so the leg is almost healed? I was wondering about that. It looked like you were getting around pretty good, but…”

“Yeah, I’m basically back to normal,” he says, having reclaimed the bottle for another healthy pull, before passing it back to Jeremy.

“Well that’s cool.” Jeremy’s internal clock tells him that his latest swig drags on for maybe a second or two longer than is customary, but he doesn’t care. Returning the pint to its owner, a thought occurs to him. “So what’s next? I mean are you already back to work somewhere or…”

“Coming up to join you guys,” he explains with a grin.

It’s one of these moments which seems obvious to Jeremy in retrospect, even though he is genuinely floored by this announcement in real time. Lenny grinning, taking one last pull before he tucks the bottle away, sighing as he stares into the near distance of this procession they’ve just dipped out on. He’s examining his favorite uncle’s face as if it might betray something to contradict the words coming out of his mouth. But without making eye contact again, Lenny continues, insisting on this point.

“Yeah, it was something I was planning on doing anyway. You guys could use my help and I should’ve been up there to start with. It seems like the right thing to do, especially now.”

And Jeremy opens his mouth to protest, but discovers that nothing comes out. Nothing to the contrary, anyhow. Instead he finds himself punching Lenny in the arm, and giving him a little half hug, agreeing that this is the best idea ever.

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