minutes just staring at Grampy’s remains sitting on the seat next to me. I break the trance and debate stopping by Lizzy’s. I mentally veto that idea and continue on to my apartment. I’d no sooner pulled into my parking spot when the familiar python-skinned bike rolls up next to my car. I crack the door.
“Hi, Fletcher,” I say as he removes his helmet.
“Hi. I thought I’d check in on you. Are you doing okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine.” I go to the passenger side and wrestle the fishing pole out of the car.
“What’s that?” Fletcher queries.
“Grampy,” I say, giving one final tug to free the pole from the door frame.
“Excuse me?”
“You see this?” I ask, holding the piece out so he can get a better look. “This is what happens when funeral home attendants let senile old men make their own final arrangements.”
“I don’t follow. You said it’s your Grampy…”
“He’s inside the fish,” I explain. Fletcher takes a couple of steps back, but slowly, a smile crosses his lips.
“You got me. Seriously, how did it go today?”
I give him a look that says I’m not joking.
“Do you want me to carry it for you?” he asks, obviously uncomfortable with the situation.
“Sure,” I say, pushing the pole and fish into his hands then winding the metal line between his fingers so it won’t drag on the ground.
“Uh, okay.” He awkwardly juggles the assortment while I fumble for my keys. “Where do you want this?” he asks once we’re inside the apartment.
“The coffee table for now, I guess.” After tossing my purse onto the sofa, I kick off the heels I’m wearing and slowly unbutton the black suit jacket that covers the matching dress I have underneath. “I’ll just be a second. I’m going to change. Help yourself to anything in the fridge.”
“Thanks,” Fletcher says, shaking his head as he tries to arrange the urn in a way that allows all of the elements to remain on top of the coffee table.
I debate the whole pants versus shorts issue before I decide that since the cat’s already out of the bag about the scars, I may as well get comfortable. Shorts and a t-shirt have me feeling much more relaxed by the time I find Fletcher on the sofa staring at the new addition I’d acquired. I plop down next to him and do the same.
“So, your Grampy liked to fish?” Fletcher asks.
“I always thought he hated it. He used to tell me that he got bored waiting for the fish to bite, so he preferred crawfishing and crabbing, those kinds of things.”
“Then why did he…”
“I have no clue,” I interrupt.
“Wow.”
“Yeah.”
“Did you read it yet?” Fletcher asks, nodding his head toward the thick envelope that hangs halfway out of the purse I’d tossed onto the sofa.
“Nope.”
“You know I promised…”
“Yes, I know. I’ll do it now,” I say with a huff.
“Don’t get indignant about it,” Fletcher says with a playful smile. “I’m only following orders.”
I return his playful grin before tearing into the envelope. The first thing I notice is an odd shaped key that tumbles out of the folds of the letter to land on the floor. I dip to retrieve it before settling in to read the note.
“No, no, no…,” I say as I peruse the page.
“What’s wrong?”
I drop the note to my lap, lean my head back, and run my hands over my face. “A misunderstanding. A huge, stinking misunderstanding is the reason my Grampy is spending his eternity inside of a bronze bass.”
“What?” Fletcher asks with a semi-laugh he tries hard to conceal.
I sigh heavily. “I remember this day well. Oh, my goodness! I can’t believe he was awake. Okay, the facility called to say that Grampy wasn’t feeling so well, and that he was running a fever. Lizzy and I went over to check on him, but he was sleeping when we got there. We quietly talked in the sitting area until he woke up, but evidently, we weren’t that
“Hi, Fletcher,” I say as he removes his helmet.
“Hi. I thought I’d check in on you. Are you doing okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine.” I go to the passenger side and wrestle the fishing pole out of the car.
“What’s that?” Fletcher queries.
“Grampy,” I say, giving one final tug to free the pole from the door frame.
“Excuse me?”
“You see this?” I ask, holding the piece out so he can get a better look. “This is what happens when funeral home attendants let senile old men make their own final arrangements.”
“I don’t follow. You said it’s your Grampy…”
“He’s inside the fish,” I explain. Fletcher takes a couple of steps back, but slowly, a smile crosses his lips.
“You got me. Seriously, how did it go today?”
I give him a look that says I’m not joking.
“Do you want me to carry it for you?” he asks, obviously uncomfortable with the situation.
“Sure,” I say, pushing the pole and fish into his hands then winding the metal line between his fingers so it won’t drag on the ground.
“Uh, okay.” He awkwardly juggles the assortment while I fumble for my keys. “Where do you want this?” he asks once we’re inside the apartment.
“The coffee table for now, I guess.” After tossing my purse onto the sofa, I kick off the heels I’m wearing and slowly unbutton the black suit jacket that covers the matching dress I have underneath. “I’ll just be a second. I’m going to change. Help yourself to anything in the fridge.”
“Thanks,” Fletcher says, shaking his head as he tries to arrange the urn in a way that allows all of the elements to remain on top of the coffee table.
I debate the whole pants versus shorts issue before I decide that since the cat’s already out of the bag about the scars, I may as well get comfortable. Shorts and a t-shirt have me feeling much more relaxed by the time I find Fletcher on the sofa staring at the new addition I’d acquired. I plop down next to him and do the same.
“So, your Grampy liked to fish?” Fletcher asks.
“I always thought he hated it. He used to tell me that he got bored waiting for the fish to bite, so he preferred crawfishing and crabbing, those kinds of things.”
“Then why did he…”
“I have no clue,” I interrupt.
“Wow.”
“Yeah.”
“Did you read it yet?” Fletcher asks, nodding his head toward the thick envelope that hangs halfway out of the purse I’d tossed onto the sofa.
“Nope.”
“You know I promised…”
“Yes, I know. I’ll do it now,” I say with a huff.
“Don’t get indignant about it,” Fletcher says with a playful smile. “I’m only following orders.”
I return his playful grin before tearing into the envelope. The first thing I notice is an odd shaped key that tumbles out of the folds of the letter to land on the floor. I dip to retrieve it before settling in to read the note.
“No, no, no…,” I say as I peruse the page.
“What’s wrong?”
I drop the note to my lap, lean my head back, and run my hands over my face. “A misunderstanding. A huge, stinking misunderstanding is the reason my Grampy is spending his eternity inside of a bronze bass.”
“What?” Fletcher asks with a semi-laugh he tries hard to conceal.
I sigh heavily. “I remember this day well. Oh, my goodness! I can’t believe he was awake. Okay, the facility called to say that Grampy wasn’t feeling so well, and that he was running a fever. Lizzy and I went over to check on him, but he was sleeping when we got there. We quietly talked in the sitting area until he woke up, but evidently, we weren’t that
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