Red Paint?

  673 words     

Red Paint?

        "The angels came and got him last night, now all we got of your pa is his body," said the Ma. "That's why we have to pay for a decent burial like the good Lord intended."

        "Ma, can I go with the angels too," said the daughter.

        "It is nowhere near your time darlin'," Ma said. "Nowhere near it."

        Ma turned off the bedroom light and left the daughter with her prayers.

        Where would they get the money for the funeral? The unemployment checks had stopped coming four months ago and they were running out of credit fast.

        Pa had been acting the strong one up until the end.  He had been one heck of a painter but the billboards had stopped being used a year or two ago. No one saw coming what he was planning, no one. And Ma felt betrayed because of it. She should have known, somehow, someway, but it wasn’t until the flash of light coming from the inside of his truck and the muffled pop that it registered. He had died a long time ago. Some people just take awhile to warm up to the idea of dying.

        She would have to call Jacob. She didn’t want to. It had been years filled with a lot of silence and space between them. More space than a sister and brother should have. Ma knew it. Her gut told her just as much as her heart.

        The next morning Ma woke up before Helen and dialed the number knowing her brother was already awake. A voice that had spoken  through the smoke of many  cigarettes answered with a raspy “hello”. 

        “I’ll keep this real short and sweet for ya,” said Ma. “John is dead, don’t matter how, and we got us a funeral to pay for…we need your help.”

        Silence filled her ear while Jacob took it all in and wondered what the devil he was going to say.

        “So this is how you start then,” he said. “Jesus Audrey…”

        “After what you pulled I ought to be cussing you out,” she said. Even now she couldn’t pull any punches with him. The memories flooded back and her face went flush.

        “How much you need sis.”

        “Five thousand for a good burial, three thousand for a decent one.  I hope to God you let me give him a good one though.” She bit her lip after spilling those words to stop the tears.

        “What you going to do with his truck sis?”

        “You!…you…you can have it if you help us out with this.”

        “Well sure then, what’s a big brother for?” The grin came through loud and clear for her.

        She pummeled the phone back on the hook hoping he got more than the toodle-loo click.

        A thought latched onto the hook in her mind and she dialed him right back.

        “I’m sorry, we’ll have the truck for you to pick up at the funeral,” she said apologetically.

        Helen shuffled into the kitchen with a puzzled look on her face. “Who was that Ma?”

        “Uncle Jacob, honey. He’s doing something good for us and we are doing something for him too.”

        “I thought…”

        “The past is the past honey,” said Audrey.

        Audrey arranged for her and Helen to catch a lift home with her friend Susan so she could drop off the truck at the funeral. He wanted the truck, well…he will be getting it she thought with a smile.

        Came the day of the funeral.  Audrey put on her black dress and snuck out of the house with a few blankets while Helen was taking a shower.

        When all was ready they got in the truck to head to the funeral.

      “Why the blankets and paint on the windshield ma?” asked Helen.

      “Your dad was good painter, wasn’t he hun?”

      “He loved it..” said Helen as her lips trembled.

      “But you know what I loved best about your dad …was his sense of humor.”

      Audrey chuckled as her daughter looked at the red paint in wonder.