Henry was sitting, his hands on his lap. He looked down at them and they were old and wrinkled and didn’t remember ever getting old. There was a wedding ring on his left hand. “Tessie,” he thought. “Where is Tessie?” And he remembered she was gone. That he remembered. He was wearing his suit, though it felt big on him. The black one. It used to fit well and now, he was old and weak and small. A young woman was sitting next to him and put her hand on his. She was young and beautiful and this upset him. Did he remarry? No, he wouldn’t do that to her. He promised Tessie. No.
“Who the heck are you?” he growled and the woman recoiled.
“Dad”, she cried. “Please, not now.”
Morgan. Pieces of memory like swiss cheese came back to him. Morgan, his daughter. All grown up. “When did that happen?” he wondered.
“I’m sorry, Morgan. I don’t-”
“Grandpa” he heard and a young girl jumped on his lap. Penny. Morgan’s daughter. He smirked. It was all coming back now. He was at a funeral. Whose, he wasn’t sure, but as he looked around the room, the dour faces and black dress confirmed it. Not five feet away was a coffin, surrounded by flowers. Henry felt Penny embrace him, her short arms unable to touch around the old man’s back. She got close to the old man’s ear.
“Do you know where you are, Grandpa? I can help if you don’t”, the girl whispered.
She’d done this before. He recalled asking her for help, like a game.
“Honey, my brain’s going funny. If I ever do anything strange, I need you to come give me a big hug. I could never forget that.”
Henry stood and walked out of the parlor. He grabbed a Dixie cup and filled it at the cooler near the bathrooms. He noticed the walls lined with couches and comfortable-looking chairs, with side tables next to them and boxes of tissues on them. They were all antiques, older than he was. And they were still here and he was losing his mind. He sipped the water.
“Hey, Henry” and the old man turned and saw a younger man. “Sheryl’s getting the kids out of the car.”
Sheryl. Second born. Raven black hair. Quiet child. Her boys, not so much. He was remembering. He smirked again. He could get through this. He shook hands with who he assumed was Sheryl’s husband, but noticed the McClusky boy talking to Morgan. Damn kid was always up to no good. They were by the front door and Bobby McClusky hugged his little girl like they were going steady. He’d caught them one night, after her prom, in the back of his car. The little bastard had balls, he had to admit. Henry darted for the pair, leaving whats-his-name behind. He’d apologize later if he could remember to do it.
“You little shit, get out of here. How many times do I have to tell you to stay away from my daughter.”
Everyone started looking at him, whispering, but that didn’t matter. He’d apologize after he took out the trash. “Your father was a drunk and I won’t let you pull my little girl into that hell hole you call a gene pool. I-” and he felt a tension around his waist. Penny was hugging him. Penny. Penny McClusky. Morgan McClusky.
“Daddy, please, you need to settle down.”
“You married him. Morgan! I can’t believe- I mean- I thought-”
“Dad, it’s okay,” Bobby said, putting his hand on Henry’s shoulder. Bobby McClusky’s father was a drunk. A mean drunk. But he was a good kid. He treated Morgan like gold. Henry remembered that. Never drank. Not a drop. He was a good, dependable father to Penny. Tessie liked him. Henry remembered liking him. Henry’s head started hurting. Morgan started crying and the whispering people were louder and louder. Nothing was making any sense at all. Sheryl came through the front door and hugged Morgan. Her boys hounded Henry. Too rambunctious. Not like Penny. They were so young. All of them. He couldn’t be that old. He remembered being an old father, but not old enough to be so lost.
He settled down and hugged Morgan. He’d been living with her for some time now. He was difficult. But maybe things were getting better. He remembered all of it now. He could keep it going and then, who knew, maybe he’d get a few more good years. They sat down again and the priest said a few words. He invited them to pay their respects and Henry, from the front row, was the first to stand. He knelt in front of the casket and signed the cross on his body. Some things were too deep to forget, he reckoned. He said a Hail Mary and looked down into the casket, at the young man, just laying there. Handsome fella, Henry thought. On the right wrist, Henry noticed his father’s watch. He grabbed at his own and realized the watch wasn’t there. He got it when he was eighteen.
“You’re my only Son, Henry” he remembered his father telling him. “I don’t have much to give you, but my father gave this to me when I was a grown man and I figure it’s now supposed to be yours.”
Henry cried, but didn’t know why. Some deep knowing compelled the tears, but he couldn’t put it together. He looked down into the coffin in front of him and saw a young man. Handsome fella, he thought.
Henry crossed himself one more time and took his seat. A beautiful young woman grabbed his hand and he felt like the luckiest man on earth, to have the attention of such a beautiful woman. To his left was a young girl, whose eyes beamed at him and he smirked at her, hoping she wouldn’t realize he had no idea who she was. He’d figure it out soon, though. He noticed a ring on his finger. Tessie would fill in the gaps for him.