As We Mourn

The Last Ride

For three hours Bethany had been trying to sate her lover's sexual appetite. No matter what they did, after a fifteen minute rest he was ready to start again.

"Hell, honey, do you think there's no tomorrow?" she asked.

"You never know," he said as he snuggled up close to her again. For a man nearing sixty, he acted like a twenty-year-old in bed. She sometimes wondered if he took Viagra but was hesitant to ask. He was sensitive about their age difference already. At twenty-five, she was younger than his daughter.

They had tried a lot of kinky stuff but he still seemed to favor the old-fashioned missionary position. She didn't have a preference as long as she was keeping him happy. She loved him even though he was married and had no intention of divorcing his wife. They had been having this affair for almost a year and she was sure he loved her, too.

As they were reaching a fever pitch in their lovemaking, he began breathing harder than usual. She didn't think much of it, just thought he was over-excited.

"Oh, God, Beth!" he cried out.

"A fast one, huh? Are you finally getting tired?"

After a loud moan he fell onto her and lay still.

"Hey, get up! You're too heavy for me." When he didn't move, she noticed he wasn't breathing. She pushed him aside and got out of bed. Her hand shook as she reached out to feel his neck for a pulse. She could not feel a heartbeat.

"Oh, shit. I wish I'd taken that CPR class at the Red Cross," she said as tears ran down her cheeks. She grabbed the phone and dialed 911, hoping the operator could understand her through the sobbing.

As she waited for the paramedics, Bethany wondered what she would do now. She had no money, no job, and was five months pregnant. Since the apartment was leased in his name, she would soon be homeless, too.

"Damn it, Charlie, you promised you'd never leave me." She sat on the floor and sobbed. "What am I going to do now? I don't have anybody to take care of me." She was still crying when the ambulance arrived.

The Send-off

The chapel of Grace Funeral Home was overflowing with people. Most of them had known the deceased, some only knew members of the family. There was also a large number of curiosity seekers since the funeral of a rich and prominent man has always drawn a lot of attention.

By that time everyone had heard the circumstances of his death. It was a small city and everyone knew, or knew of, everybody else in town. Oddly, no one was shocked or even surprised at the details of his demise. He had been known as a womanizer for years. They were only surprised that he had gotten away with it for as long as he had.

The casket was the center of attention. In the light of the chapel's huge chandelier the mahogany finish glistened. Inside lay the body of Charles Andrew Hetherton, a prosperous local businessman. Dressed in a new Armani suit, he looked as though he was going to an important meeting.

A large assortment of flowers filled the area around the casket. Roses of all colors being the most dominant. Pots of green plants were placed around the room making it look more like a flower show than a funeral.

As the organist, hidden behind all the flowers, played the final notes of "Rock of Ages" an old minister stepped up to a podium to the left of the casket. A few sniffles were heard, probably more from allergies than sorrow.

"We are gathered here today to bid farewell to Charles Hetherton," the old man began. "He was a devoted husband, a loving father, and a dear brother. He was an asset to our community. As we mourn his passing..."

A Devoted Husband

'Devoted husband? Charles? That's a laugh.' It was all the widow Juanita Hetherton could do to stay in her seat. 'He died in the bed of a whore and this guy says devoted. He obviously didn't know the son-of-a-bitch.'

She looked at the man lying in the casket and wondered what had happened to their marriage. She had been right at his side while he built his business, but as soon as it became profitable he didn't seem to have time for her or their daughter. He had plenty of fresh little gold-diggers to keep him entertained.

Juanita let an audible "Huh!" escape, quickly covering it up with a few sobs. This brought looks of sympathy from several people seated nearby. 'That was close,' she thought as she dabbed her eyes with a tissue.

She turned her attention back to the old minister who was going on about all her husband's great achievements. She sighed then returned to her thoughts.

'The bastard thought I didn't know what was going on. I didn't care about his women, they never lasted long anyway. I wonder if he got tired of them or if they just couldn't stand him after they got to know him. The only one I hate is the last one. She had the nerve to get pregnant. But I can't hate her too much since she's the one who killed him. I'm glad I didn't divorce him. This way is much better. Instead of getting half I get it all.' She sat with a smile on her face until she felt her daughter's elbow hit her arm.

"Please, Mother, try to look sad before anyone notices," Michelle whispered.

Juanita put on a sober expression as she glanced around the room. Her gaze fell on a slim woman about her age. She was wearing a dress more suitable for a dinner party than a funeral and sat holding onto her husband's arm. She looked, to anyone who didn't know her, like the perfect, happy, faithful wife.

'Renee Murphy, the hypocrite. Pretended to be my best friend as she was sleeping with my husband. I wonder if Sam ever found out about her and Charles, or that the emergency D and C she had to have wasn't really because of a threat of cancer but an abortion.' Juanita let slip a brief grin at the thought of forty-three year old Renee getting pregnant. It wouldn't have been near as amusing if Sam hadn't been sterile.

Juanita never mentioned any of this to Charles. She felt that if he was going to leave her, it would have to be his idea. She would have made him pay dearly and he knew it. Besides, he had his reputation to uphold.

At that moment the minister was finishing his sermon with, "and his life enriched all that knew him."

'Well, he's certainly enriched me to the tune of four point five million dollars,' Juanita thought. She grabbed the opportunity to put on a pained expression as the singers did a bad job of "How Great Thou Art."

A Loving Father

'Loving father? That's a joke. He wasn't much of a father at all to me.' As her mother, Michelle Hetherton was lost in thought, tuning out the voice of the old minister. 'I was never good enough for him. I guess things would have been better if I'd been a boy. He never wanted anything to do with me.'

She closed her eyes to suppress the tears she felt coming, sighed, then looked around the room. She didn't know a quarter of the people there. 'Of course I wouldn't know them. They're probably old friends or business people. I wasn't allowed to be around if there was company at the house.'

As her eyes scanned the room, she looked at all the pretty roses. They had always been her favorite flowers. Softly shaking her head, she recalled the night of her senior prom. Her date had arrived with a beautiful bouquet of roses. Before he could give them to her, though, her father had strode up to the boy, took the flowers and thrown them out the front door. He'd then grabbed her date who ended up on the front lawn next to the flowers. She had cried and asked her father why he had done that. His answer was that the boy was from a lower class neighborhood and was probably just after a rich girlfriend. Now the boy her father had thrown out of the house was a successful lawyer trying to get elected District Attorney.

Her attention returned to the casket. She had told her mother that it was a waste of money to buy such an expensive one since he was to be cremated. Juanita had replied that Charles should go out in the same manner as he had lived. Michelle thought if that was the case, he should be buried so he'd be surrounded by dirt.

'How could he screw around with all those women? Some of them weren't as old as I am. If I had been Mom, his ass would have been out a long time ago. That pregnant one probably thinks she'll get a bunch of money. She won't get shit if I can help it.'

As the minister finished with, "his life has enriched all that knew him," Michelle thought, 'I don't know anyone who's better off from knowing him.'

She took a few deep breaths to calm herself. Her Uncle Michael was patting her back softly, misunderstanding her struggle to stay calm. She smiled at him then noticed the smile on her mother's face, so she nudged her.

A Dear Brother

'Yeah, right. Some dear brother,' thought Michael Hetherton as he tuned out the boring sermon. 'A dear pain in the ass is more like it.'

Michael was ten years younger than his brother. Sibling rivalry had been fierce over the years. Charles had been the favored older child and Michael the pampered baby of the family.

'You always thought you were better than me. Hell, you thought you were better than everybody,' Michael thought as he looked at his brother. 'I wish I'd had a big brother, not just an older brother.'

He thought about all the bragging Charles had done over the years: Come over and see our new house, How do like our new Mercedes? etc. The fact that Charles had married Juanita for her family's political connections was not lost on Michael. 'A lot of good those connections are doing you now.'

As he looked around the chapel he noticed how the fancy chandelier made little twinkles of light on the dark casket. 'This is too good of a send-off for somebody like him. Why did Juanita buy such a fancy coffin? All these people aren't going to miss him. I wish they'd had a private funeral or no funeral at all.' Michael remembered his father's funeral held in this same chapel. The crowd was smaller but had been made up of family and friends that actually cared.

As the minister spoke of how Charles' life "has enriched all that knew him," Michael wondered who he was talking about. 'Charles never did anything for anyone unless he could profit from it.'

He let out a deep sigh which his wife mistook as a sign of grief. She put her arm around him for comfort. He heard Michelle taking some deep breaths and patted her back gently.

The Ending

The long boring service was finally over and the last of the supposed mourners were leaving. Mr. Fancher, the funeral director, whispered to Juanita that he wanted to see her before she left. She told Michelle and Michael she'd be right back then made her way to the office.

"Come in Mrs. Hetherton." The heavyset, smiling man was a direct contrast to the picture most people get when they think of a funeral director. As she stepped into the office, he said, "I understand you want to attend the cremation. Are you sure of this? It is quite unusual."

She smiled as she spoke. "You bet your ass I am. I've been waiting to see him burn for years."

Bethany

She had arrived at the chapel late. She knew she wouldn't be welcomed by the family so she stood in the back. She wanted to see Charles one last time but didn't dare walk up to the casket. She listened to the minister's eulogy and fought back her tears. Charles had always been good to her and treated her respectfully. He never lied to her.

'I'll never be able to give you your father's name,' she thought as the baby inside her moved. 'You'll never know him.'

As the funeral was ending, she walked out the door. 'I have no regrets.'

Thank you for reading. I wrote this story in 2003. It's been edited a couple times but never published. I hope you enjoy it.