the Pallbearers (2010) Read Free Page A

she cried.
    "Where's the funeral?" Alexa said, trying to jog me out of what she could see was a developing funk.
    "Surfers' Church in Point Dume. Never been there. She said it was on a cliff overlooking the steeps."
    "Steeps?"
    "Surfer talk--what Walt called waves. He also called them glass walls, cylinders, the green room. . . . Everything was surf lingo with him." My voice was dulled by emotion.
    "How 'bout I fix us a drink? This mess in here can wait. I've got plenty of time to pack now."
    She put on a robe, fixed me a light scotch, and got one for herself. We went back outside and sat on the patio. I could still feel remnants of my body heat coming off the iron chair from before. My world had totally shifted before the metal even had time to cool. Thing s w ere different. A little piece of my past had been torn out and had just floated away. Some things lost can never be retrieved. I had lost my chance to say thank you, and now all that was left to do was carry Pops coffin and say good-bye.
    Again, Alexa read me. "He understood, Shane."
    I turned and looked at her.
    "How could he?"
    "It wasn't all about you. Some of it was about him."
    Of course, she was right about that. But he'd been there for me when it counted and if he was so desperate he'd committed suicide, why had I not been around to know that and repay the favor? I'd been in the military when his wife, Elizabeth, had died. Stationed far away. No help. I sent him cards at Christmas, paid one or two visits. Not enough. But the reason was simple. I just didn't want to go back there. I couldn't. So I rarely had.
    Alexa and I sat in silence until the sun went down. I said very little because I was deep inside my own head. I saw her shiver slightly in a descending ocean mist.
    "You go on in. I'll be there in a few minutes."
    She got up, kissed the top of my head, and went into the house.
    I began letting the thoughts I'd pushed aside for all those years flood back.
    I remembered old feelings. The anger, the hatred, the need to strike out and hurt someone. I thought about living in a group home full of angry, similarly rejected children. None of us trusted or liked the others.
    There had only been Pop to lean on.

    Chapter 4
    The church looked like it belonged in Mexico. It was white stucco, small, and almost exactly square. It had an old-fashioned steeple with three bells. Ropes attached to the clappers hung down the front face of the building so the bells could be rung by people standing on the ground. A primitive system.
    There were about forty surfboards leaning against the outside walls, a silent tribute to Walt from a bunch of long-haired, toes-on-the - nose mourners. Hibiscus and jasmine grew wild in a field overlooking the ocean and choked the little stone path that led up from the dirt parking lot.
    The view was spectacular, sitting right on top of Point Dume, just off Cliffside Drive, overlooking the ocean almost a thousand feet below. The three-foot incoming swells were diminished by the height where we stood and from up here looked like tiny ripples headin g t oward shore. The setting was quaint and beautiful. A perfect place to say good-bye.
    I pulled in next to one of several Huntington House vans. There were already about thirty or forty cars, all shapes and sizes parked in the lot--some clunkers, a few pricey models, and a scattering of rusting surf wagons.
    Alexa and I got out. I was wearing a black suit and sunglasses. My face felt hot in the afternoon sun. I moved slowly as we walked toward the church and a very dark, African-American woman who appeared to be about twenty-five. She was big-boned--large, but not fat--and wore a black dress with padded shoulders. She had a friendly, if unremarkable, face. As I approached, she put out her hand and flashed a bright smile.
    'Tm Diamond," she said. "Hope you're either Shane or Jack."
    "I'm Shane." We shook hands. "This is my wife, Alexa."
    "Nice to meet you. If that's the right thing to say under such