Chapter 64

word count 1315

Adam Miller stared at the open casket and his pulse raced. It was his mother in there, his mother with more makeup on her face than he had ever seen her wear, lips too red, hair too carefully coiffed. And her face, even with her cheeks rouged didn't look real, more like a mannequin. But most of all, the body was motionless. She lay  so still, eerie, in a place where sounds aren't heard and nothing is real or touchable, a void. His mom's laughter and spirit were long gone from his own world. He felt on the outside looking in, trying to grasp where she was, to join her in the stillness, to touch her wherever she existed now.

"How are you holding up, son?" It was Mr. Hunt behind him, Elliot's dad. He placed a soft hand on Adam's shoulder. "Are you doing okay?"

"No."

"Well, hang in there, kid. You need time to heal. It'll get better." John Hunt walked away as if he was afraid to continue the conversation. Adam knew it.

He took a seat, plopping down on a damask-covered love seat. He felt sick to his stomach. His thoughts kept going back to how he found his mom dead. He'd called out and everyone came running. Lisa had grabbed him aside and hugged him while paramedics took his mother away, one of them straddling her chest on the gurney doing CPR. All the while, his father was yelling and trying to stand up and run after her. It was like watching something crazy on TV. Things like that didn't happen to real people, did they? Now he was stuck in that strange apartment with only his dad and Mrs. Dunn. That place wasn't his home and he wanted his mother, not Mrs. Dunn, and certainly not his dad.

There were so many people at the funeral parlor he had never seen before. They'd been coming in all day, people his mother knew before she got married, long time friends who never came by once Buzz was in her life. And his father had people coming from the police station, people Adam had never met. They all stood around talking, some of them laughing as they chatted, as if the tragedy of his dead mother wasn't laid out right in front of them. He hoped he never grew up. If they were coming to see his mom, why did they act like she wasn't there? Didn't they have the same pain as he did?

"Hey, Adam!" His best friend, Elliot, appeared next to him and sat on the love seat. “Did you see that guy over there? I thought he was that homeless guy from DQ, but it looks like he works with your Dad."

Adam spied Gil in the entrance. He always suspected Gil was an undercover cop, but never knew for sure. He wondered if Gil told his dad about the gun he had. I don't care, he reasoned. Because I don't care anything about my dad, not even if he's mad at me.

Hank Bower came into view next, stepping into the room to stand next to Gil, and his eyes scanned the area as if looking for someone. Gil, in the meanwhile, smiled at Trudy, who stood stiffly with her husband.

Hank spotted who he was looking for and charged off in Buzz's direction. The grieving husband sat in a cluster of friends, still in a wheelchair, speaking with sadness on his face. The detective pushed his way through the crowd, knocking people out of his way to come face to face with his boss.

"YOU SON OF A BITCH! You killed her!" Hank slammed a tight fist in a direct hit to Buzz's jaw. It sounded with a loud THUMP as a bewildered Buzz reeled in confusion.

"What the hell, Bower?" he said, his hand against a reddened face.

"You cheated on her! You beat on her! You wore her down and you made her ill! When she discovered she had cancer, she was afraid to tell you for fear you'd BEAT ON HER MORE!"

Gil arrived and dragged Hank by the shoulders, propelling him out of the room. "Quit staring, people! The guy's a little upset, now back off!" He yelled it out loud and clear for all to hear as he pushed his friend out the door.

From where Adam sat, the whole thing happened in slow motion, like he was in another world. He couldn't believe it was happening. The violence made his heart race. He was afraid, just like he was alarmed when his dad hit his mom. He never knew where punches and screaming would go next. An angry person swinging fists made him about as scared as he could ever be. Not that he didn't like that his father got hit. He wished he could do it himself. Someday when he got bigger, he would.

"Holy shit! Did you see that?" Elliot said. What a welcome sound his friend's voice was, bringing Adam back to reality.

"Yeah, my dad got socked good," he said, trying to make light of it. But he still felt frozen with fear.

"Look at my mom, running over to see him!" Elliot said. “Something funny is going on there.”

Sure enough, Trudy took off heading in Buzz's direction while John stood by, rigid.

"Oh, Buzz! Are you all right?" she asked, hugging him.

"Trudy! Yeah, I'm okay. Wait til I see that Bower again!"

Trudy looked up, and Buzz followed her gaze. Gil had returned and was slipping into the room. When Buzz saw him, he bellowed.

"Bettencourt, get over here! What's going on with Bower?"

"I'm not sure, boss!" Gil nodded to Trudy. "I sent him home in a cab."

"Well, call him later, and tell him HE'S FIRED!"

"Boss, isn't that a little harsh?"

"FIRED, Bettencourt! I said FIRED!"

"Okay." Gil's blood froze as he pondered what the boss would do if he found out he, in fact, was boinking the guy's main squeeze. He shot a frightened glance to Trudy.

John noted the silent nod between his wife and Gil. He turned around and looked to Lisa who shot him a tiny smile.

***

Buzz sat at the kitchen table, working his way through the second six-pack of Michelob. It was a good thing Mrs. Dunn had to go out that night. He'd needed a beer bad, and God knows, he couldn't do it when she was around. Especially after the other night, when some guys from the precinct came by with a whole case of beer to sit and shoot the bull. They sat drinking and talking for hours. There wasn't much she could do to stop him. But later, when he got mad at Adam and almost hit the kid, the woman went ballistic.

"You drunken slob! You lay a hand on that boy, and I'll smash your face in!" She said it behind his back in barely a whisper, probably so as not to alarm the kid. But it did stop him in his tracks. Later, she told him, "I'm only still here because of Adam. Someone needs to look out for him. Your wife just died three weeks ago. You're grieving, and you get very angry sometimes, Mr. Miller, especially when you drink."

Well, she'd been diplomatic anyway, not calling him an animal. But it was just as well she was here, since he was in no mood these days to play the loving parent. And as soon as he could walk again, he had plans to go out and do a whole lot of drinkin'.