The Demotivation of Charlie Fitts- Part IV

Part IV: A Funeral Without Finality

Arising the next morning he noticed the signed Bickerhoff book lying on top of his dresser. He opened it and read the inscription to his father: “To Charles Fitts, Sr. May the siren song of apathy never seduce you to the point your ambitions outrun your reach. All the best, Stanley Bickerhoff.” Charlie sat on his bed trying to discern what the author meant and realizing that even if his intentions were good, they were pointless now. Dad admitted in his note that his ambitions had indeed outrun his reach- so far that he gave up! Charlie thought to himself. This Bickerhoff dude is nothing more than a fraud! And I thought he was so intelligent a writer. I guess maybe John was right about Bickerhoff’s books- they do nothing but confuse people, even if they sound eloquent. I agree with the author now- his writing is garbage! And that’s where it will go.” he exclaimed with disgust as he chucked the book in the trash can.

Charlie dreaded going to his father’s funeral but went to please his mother. Aunt Julie had asked him again to speak at the service but he had rebuffed her. Though he actually accepted the condolences of his cousins and spoke to them, he only feigned gratitude at the expressions of empathy his maternal grandparents spoke to him, noticing as his grandmother pretended to wipe away a tear that wasn’t there. She began to ask him if he wanted to spend the night but before she could finish, Charlie interrupted her by excusing himself from her presence quickly as he was losing his tolerance of them. He had promised himself to be as polite as he could in order to not make the day any harder for his mother. But that didn’t mean he was going to prolong his interactions with those he considered hypocrites and guilty. He couldn’t help thinking it was probably better that his paternal grandparents were not there to see the demise of their only son as they had died several years ago.

As the graveside service wound down and people were leaving, his mother came to him, told him she was riding with her parents, and asked Charlie if he was ready to go. Charlie said he wanted to spend some time alone at his father’s grave and since he had driven his car, he would be home later. She said she understood, gave him a long hug, and told him not to be long. Charlie didn’t say much, except that he loved her.

As she walked away, the rain began again but Charlie didn’t pay it much heed. He stood alone, motionless, trying to keep the pain and grief down and stop the tears from coming. He felt inside his suit pocket to make sure his father’s note was still there- his last physical link to him. He just gazed at his dad’s grave marker and the oh so brief dates of his life for several moments.

“Why?! Why did you do it, Dad?!” Charlie yelled. “You never told me you were in such pain. We never talked about much of anything but books as you would never open up to me. You were a better father and friend than you knew…at least…until you did this…” Charlie whispered with tears coming down in torrents. With heavy and laborious steps and the rain and tears still descending, Charlie made his way to his car. He sat re-reading his father’s note and the funeral program for many minutes. Finally, he composed himself and drove home.

When he arrived, he saw his grandparents sitting in the living room talking with his aunt. He shunned their greetings and went to his bedroom to pack. His mother came in and he told her he was leaving to get a head start on going back to school. He didn’t tell her that he was only returning to college to drop out. She asked him if he wanted anything to eat but he said he wasn’t hungry and needed to go.

“Charlie, why are you in such a hurry to leave? Can’t we talk for a while? I know I haven’t made much time for you but I am sure you have seen how hard this has been for me.”

“Yes, Mom. I know it has been hard. I just…have to go.”

“Please, please at least stay tonight and leave tomorrow. Your school isn’t that far away,” Anna Fitts implored.

Charlie looked his mother in the face, and saw her eyes starting to well up with tears.

“Alright, Mom. I will stay. But don’t expect me to talk to Grandma and Grandpa. I have no desire to be around them after how they treated Dad,” Charlie said indignantly.

“Okay, son. I will somehow get them to leave and then we can talk. How about if I make a pot of your favorite tea? Would you like that?” his mother asked with the closest thing to a smile she had offered all week.

“Yeah, that would be great. Let me change clothes and I will be down soon.”

“Do you promise? I’ve missed you, Charlie.”

“Yes, I promise.”

Anna Fitts made her way downstairs, told her parents and sister that she was extremely tired and needed to rest. Julie asked if she wanted her to stay the night but Anna declined, assuring her that Charlie would be there and she would be alright. Her sister and parents offered their goodbyes and told her to call if she needed anything. Anna said she would as she locked the door and went to put on the kettle.

Charlie came downstairs a few minutes later just as the kettle was boiling. He saw his mother placing loose-leaf Earl Grey tea in china tea cups on a tray along with saucers and plates with fresh scones on them left by a friend. Dabbing her eyes with her apron, she invited him to follow her into his father’s favorite room- the library. It was the largest room downstairs and one Charles Fitts had spent most of his free time in. Thousands of books were on the shelves and the floor in semi-ordered rows and groups. They sat at an antique tea table by the window with candles and the sound of the thunderstorm outside intruding with its arrogance and bombast and the wind lashing the rain against the darkened windows. Charlie pulled the chair out for his mother to sit down and joined her at the table. Looking at her face, he thought again how pretty and dignified she had always been. Though out of character, he told his mother the same. She blushed and thanked him.

It was 7:30 p.m. as Anna Fitts and her son began to enjoy their evening tea. Neither was in a hurry to speak but nor were they overcome completely by their grief. This was not the first time they had shared tea together in this room for she had raised him with manners that befit any social occasion and taught him how to enjoy the simplicity of tea accompanied by finger foods. As the beverage warmed them inside and the scones generated a burst of energy, they started to share their memories of Charlie’s father. Before they could help it, several hours had gone by and they were laughing at some of his antics in his never-ending quest for books to read. Charlie recalled how no matter where they went, even on vacations camping, his dad would stop at any bookstore or antique store they passed by. Anna remembered how her husband had never been willing to get rid of any book, even the ones he had not enjoyed. She said that he had considered them sacred and that each one had a purpose for existing. She then sighed as she expressed how she wished he had realized he had a purpose as well and he was not a failure at life like he thought. Charlie got up from his seat, bent over his mother’s chair, and wrapped his arms around her. He was not overly expressive with his affection toward anyone but did this instinctively, knowing his mother needed it. After a long embrace, she took his handkerchief and wiped her tears. She started to get up and Charlie told her he would clean up the dishes and she could go to bed. She thanked him with a squeeze of his hand and left.