Vanity Insanity (41 page)

Lucy stopped crying.

A.C. added, “Why do you think they call it faith? It’s not supposed to be easy. Cancer is…like a thorn on your roses, Lucy.”

Lucy smiled.

“Lucy,” I asked, “who was the really tall guy with the short hair?”

“The one who was having a hard time keeping it together?” she asked.

I nodded.

“Ted Ellerby.”

“What in the heck is a Ted Ellerby?” A.C. asked.

“Chewey. Remember Chewey? He was the guy Theresa dated for while.”

“Chewey from prom Chewey?” I asked. I’d never met the guy. I was glad to hear he had a real name.

“Yeah, he was kind of a jerk. I guess he turned out all right. Married a really nice girl.”

“A recovering asshole?” I asked, borrowing Octavia’s line.

Lucy laughed. “Speaking of, I’m sure I saw Mikey Beard at the funeral.”

No “Weird, Weird,” still Mikey. I looked around the cafeteria, which was filling up. Friends and family of Theresa Marie Gerard O’Brien Davis.

“Well, here’s her party. She always talked about having a party when this was all over…” Lucy’s eyes welled up as Tom walked over and handed her an iced tea.

“Hey!” Tom was never comfortable with sadness. “You know what Woody Allen says about death?” Lucy looked horrified at her husband. “He said, ‘I’m not afraid to die. I just don’t want to be there when it happens.’”

A.C. shook his head and smiled. Lucy hit Tom in the arm. “That’s about the only good thing about this, Tom. I’m not afraid to die now. Theresa will be there.”

“That’s only if you make it to heaven, baby doll.”

Hope walked up to the table with plates of food. Behind her followed the priest who had spoken at the cemetery. Lucy got up, put her arm on the priest’s shoulder, and introduced him. “Did you all get a chance to meet Father Steve?”

I looked at Father Steve, who looked familiar.

“Stinky?” A.C. said. “Father Stinky?”

I’d heard that Stinky was thinking about the seminary years ago.

A.C. spoke as he shook Stinky’s hand. “Man, you were great today. I don’t know how you made it through.”

Marty and her husband, holding their adopted son, Sean, came up to the table. We found room for everyone to sit at the table.

Margaret, are you grieving?

The line of a poem I remember from my one year of English at UNO suddenly popped into my head. “Margaret, are you grieving?” I couldn’t remember much more, but I remember the overly excited professor explaining the
poem to our class. The poem was about a little girl named Margaret, who was crying as the leaves fell from the tree in the fall, sad that their beauty is dying. The voice of the poem was speaking to the little girl and telling her that she wasn’t crying for the leaves. She was crying for herself.

Margaret, are you grieving?

We sat in the cafeteria, the gang from the old neighborhood, telling stories of our youth while feeling sorry for ourselves. What would we do without Theresa? In my heart, I knew that she was at peace now. She was laughing. She was goodness. But as for us, we were in pain. We were suffering our loss.

I felt two hands on my shoulder from someone behind me. I turned around to see Lovey Webber. I stood up and turned to her.

“Hey, Ben!” Lovey shoved her hand out in front of me. “Did you hear I was engaged?” To Triple-Flip Jimmy, I was guessing.

“Congrats…uh, what are your colors?”

Lovey leaned into me as she laughed. “Ben, you were always so funny. Did you know that I had the biggest crush on you when we were growing up?”

“Are we grown-up now?”

“See?” Lovey grabbed my arm and laughed. “That’s what I mean. I used to practice writing ‘Lovey Keller’ on the back of my notebook, over and over again. I had such a crush. Big.” She walked away, wiggling her body as she walked, as only Lovey could.

“Lovey? And you?” A.C. shook his head. “No way, man.”

All those years of watching her cute little body swerve and flirt, I’d had no idea. I felt two hands on my shoulders again and turned to see if Lovey had heard us. Faith Webber stood behind me in a gray suit. Her dark hair framed her beautiful face.

“Hey, Ben. Long time no see.” Faith’s blue eyes smiled at mine.

“Faith,” I said.

“Sorry to interrupt for a second, Faith.” Stinky had a gift in his hand. “Ben, I was wondering if you could do me a favor. Could you drop this gift off at my parents’ house?”

“Sure, no problem.”

“Mom and Dad just left. I missed them, and I had their anniversary gift in the back seat of my car. My brother’s going to run me to the airport to catch a flight right now, so I won’t be able to get it to them. Just put in under that back deck. I’ll let them know. I really appreciate it, Ben.” Stinky shook my hand.

I hadn’t been back to the neighborhood in years. My mom had moved from our old house years ago. “Will do,” I said.

“Can you believe they’ve been married for forty years?”

“Wow, hard to believe.” My mouth was starting to throb with pain again.

A.C. came up as Stinky left. “Jenae’s waving to you.” Jenae motioned to me to come over to their table with the staff from Vanity Insanity. I looked back to see Faith, but she was no longer there.

I walked through a long aisle of several tables to get to Jenae. My eyes panned the room looking for Faith. I felt a hand on my arm. Corky Payne was beside me.

“Ben?”

I looked into his deep, sad eyes.

“Ben Keller?

“Yes, sir.”

“How old are you now, boy?”

“Thirty-six, sir. I’m thirty-six.”

Corky dropped his hand and walked away.

Margaret, are you grieving?

I went down to the sacred store where I’d heard the music years before, but the man there said the music wouldn’t play.
—Don MacLean, “American Pie”

40

Monkey Man: Trim Sideburns

Thursday, November 6

1997

There was an old woman who swallowed a fly
I don’t know why she swallowed a fly
Perhaps she’ll die.

J
enae had been singing the obnoxious song all morning, ignoring perturbed glances from Toby. Caroline shook her head as she worked on her client’s nails. I was in the middle of trimming Monkey Man’s sideburns when Kelly came up to my side.

“Did you call the tooth doctor?”

“I did.” I’d broken down the day before about my extreme pain. The pleasant voice on the other end of the call said that the soonest they could get me in was Monday morning. I asked her if there was anything I could take for the pain in the meantime. The pleasant voice took my name and
number and said that she would ask the doctor and get back to me. I knew that four more days of this pain would be unbearable.

“You talk to the contractor about the mess upstairs?”

“Not yet.”

Kelly sighed. “OK…Tom Ducey gave me this envelope to give to you. He came by when you ran to the bank.”

“Thanks. Just put it on the desk, Kelly.” If the information in the envelope had anything to do with Sinnot or the legal breakup, I didn’t want to open it. I would avoid it as long as I could.

“And one more thing. This is for you.” Kelly handed me a small piece of paper with a name and number on it. “Rose or Rosie called. She said it was an emergency.” Kelly slowly and clearly pronounced “emergency.” “Long distance.”

There was an old woman who swallowed a fly.

Jenae was wearing a red sweater, red pants, red boots. Must have been a red day.

I don’t know why she swallowed a fly.
Perhaps she’ll die.

Jenae looked up at me with an apologetic grin, after she straightened the magazines in the rack against the wall. “Sorry, I can’t get it out of my head. Do you remember that little song?”

“I forgot it…until today.”

“Sorry, hon. Can’t help it.”

I knew nobody named Rose or Rosie. Client, family, or friend. It had to be business. Product sales.

“Emergency, Ben. She sounded pretty upset.” Kelly raised her eyebrows, picked up the phone, and brought it to me, then walked back to her manicure client. With Kelly’s eyes on me, I dialed the 208 area code number. From what part of the country did this number come? A woman’s deep scratchy voice picked up on the other end.

“Yeah.”

“Yes, I’m returning a call for Rose or Rosie.”

“Who’s this?”

“Ben Keller. My name is Ben Keller. I received a call from this number.” I had a million things to do today.

“About time. I’ve been calling insurance companies all morning.” The voice was lined with years of nicotine. “Finally, one says that you were his customer, but he couldn’t give out personal information. He said you owned the Vanity Insanity. What’s a Vanity Insanity? Mental institution?”

“I’m sorry. Is this Rose?”

“Yeah, I’m Rose, and we’ve got a problem.”

“Does this have to do with my insurance company?

“No, that’s just how I found your name and number. I just figured that his wife had remarried, and I knew he had one son, and I knew your last name wouldn’t change. I tried to find his sister, but she must be married ‘cause she ain’t in the book under Keller. The operator gave me the number of a Vanity Insanity. That a clinic or something?” Rose coughed for a really long time and then said, “Right off, I called the insurance companies to see if he had any insurance.”

“I’m sorry. If this isn’t about my insurance company, then I don’t think I can really help you. Who is
he
?”

“Your old man. I need some money to bury him. He din’t have no money, but I hoped that he might have some in Omaha. I need to bury the man. It’s only right.”

I couldn’t reply.

“I couldn’t find his sister’s name since she must have gotten married. Like I said, she must be under a different name. He said that his son’s name was Ben. Aren’t you Ben Keller?”

My dad had a sister?

Rose coughed again. “This is the number the operator gave me.”

My brain was on overload. First, my dad really did exist. He really did go off and live another life. He had a sister? And this piece about him dying? My mom had severed all ties to the family of the man who had fathered me, so in time I’d lived with the absence by believing that he really
didn’t exist. It had worked so far. At least up to this moment. Now some lady named Rose wanted money to bury the man that I’d pretended never existed. How did you bury an imaginary man? I finally spoke.

“Where are you, Rose?”

“Idaho. Sandpoint, Idaho.”

“How can I help you, Rose?” My tooth hurt. My head hurt.

“I just need money to bury the man. S’only right. Man, do you know how much a casket is? The man at God’s Grace Mortuary wanted over a thousand dollars just to put his body in a casket and bury him. Where would I get that kind of money? I just want him to have a proper burial. That’s all.”

“Do you have phone number of the mortuary?”

“God’s Grace Mortuary?”

“Yes, God’s Grace.”

“Just a sec.” Rose left, and I heard her coughing louder than ever. I glanced up to see Kelly watching me. I could hear Jenae singing in the back room. Rose came back to the phone. “Here it is.” She read the number to me. “You have to dial the area code. Did you know that?”

“Yes.”

“You know someone who can help?”

“I’ll find someone.”

“Trust me. I’d do if I could. I just don’t have the money.” Rose coughed. “It’s only right. Christ, the man needs a proper burial. He lived a hard life. He lived a very hard life. It’s only right. Howard was a good man.” She dropped his name like an ice cube into a cold drink. As though he were real.

“I’ll take care of it,” I said numbly. “Do you need anything else?”

“That’ll do. It’s good of you, ya know.”

I didn’t want to hear any more. He was a good man? He was also a man who’d walked away without another single word to his family. I didn’t want Rose to say another word. I didn’t want Rose to tell me anything this man had done or said about me. I wanted to hang up. Kelly, the little mother hen, was still watching me.

“Have a good day, Rose,” I said loudly and then hung up.

Kelly came up to me after she finished her client’s manicure. “You make that call?”

I nodded.

“Everything all right?”

“Wrong number, Kel. Wrong number.”

Jenae came out from the back room.

There was an old woman who swallowed a fly.
I don’t know why she swallowed a fly.
Perhaps she’ll die.

“Wrong numbers don’t take that long,” Kelly mumbled as she shook her head and walked away.

41

Last-Minute Appointment: 9:30

Saturday, November 8

1997

I
made three phone calls Saturday morning.

I’d driven to Vanity Insanity earlier than usual after a long night of little sleep, a lot of pain in my mouth, and an overload of new information in my head. I’d sat at the chair by the UP desk and made my calls before the staff came in. The first call was to my dentist’s office. The nice voice on the other end said that the doctor had called in a prescription to the downtown pharmacy for pain medication that should “get me through” till Monday’s scheduled double root canal. I thanked her and hung up.

The second phone call was to God’s Grace Mortuary in Sandpoint, Idaho. I had decided—not long after hanging up with Rose—that I would not let Mom or my sisters know anything about the phone call. Maybe in time I could get back to my normal life of pretending that no father of mine had ever existed. I would allow this roller coaster of emotions only for
a time. The nice voice on the other end told me the cost of a simple casket and “proper” burial as I pulled out my credit card: $3,344. The nice lady gave me her sincerest condolences, and I thanked her. I remembered my good friend Digger the Clown. I wondered what the mortician at God’s Grace Mortuary in Sandpoint, Idaho, did for grins. What did he do to keep his sanity? Mime? Skateboard?
Oh, the insanity.

My third call was to First National Bank. I transferred money from my savings, which was starting to decline, what with business interactions gone bad and burials of estranged fathers and all. The nice voice from the bank was glad to shuffle my money around. By the end of that phone call, Toby, Jenae and Virginia were walking in and setting up for the day. Jenae turned on the sound system to an oldies radio station. Sting’s voice poured out into the salon as he sang about a little black spot on the sun.