Goodbye
Walt pulled the covers over us in our own bed in our own apartment in Philadelphia. I was happy to be home away from the drafty old house in Reading and its useless old steam boiler. “Charlie leaves tomorrow. It’s hard to believe it’s been a whole month already.”
I agreed. “Time flies when you’re figuring out a suicide.”
Walt frowned. “I wish his visit went better. He’ll have memories, but not many good ones.”
“The bad will fade with time. He can always come back and make more memories. He got to know his brother and Stephan. He spent lots of time with them. He got to see Philly. He learned to cook. We went to Reading and he met the man he’s named after. He also learned a lot and grew as a person. He may not be thrilled for the lessons right now, but he’ll appreciate them in time.”
“Fair enough, Love.”
“We’ll have to take him to the station tomorrow. He’s taking the train because he’s going to stop in Iowa to see his grandparents and all his uncles and aunts and cousins on David’s side. I think he said his train leaves Broad Street at one-thirty.”
“30th Street, Love. Broad Street Station has been gone for almost twenty years.”
“Oh, fuck. I guess we shouldn’t take him to Broad Street, then.”
“Not unless you want to show him those ugly new office buildings.”
I borrowed a word from Charlie to explain what I thought of them. “They’re gross!”
Walt chuckled. “Yes, they are. Like great big layer cakes someone forgot to decorate.”
“That’s progress, I guess. To hell with it. As for Charlie, it’s been great having him here. He’s a great kid.”
“He is. We’ll see him again in June when we go to Montana. David invited us for the whole summer this time. We can spend three months out there if we want.”
“I can’t wait!”
“Me neither, but no mysteries this time!”
I defended myself. “It’s not my fault! You act like I go around looking for murder and mayhem to solve.”
“I know you don’t, but it always seems to find you.”
I tried to be philosophical about the situation. “Better it find me than someone who doesn’t know what to do.”
He sighed in the dark. “Fair enough. Let’s just try to have a calm vacation this year and no more sapphire mines or arson.”
I held my hand up to swear. “I promise I won’t find an arsonist in a sapphire mine.”
He squirmed around under the blankets. “Being retired isn’t bad. We always seem to have lots to do.”
“I’m going to have even more soon. I talked to Doc and he said the VA would love it if I’d come talk to their wounded. He said I could come every day if I wanted.”
“Are you going to start right away or wait until after David and Abby leave?”
“I’ll do a day here and there while they’re in town. I’ll figure out a regular schedule once they leave. They won’t need as much of our time as Charlie did because Larry and Stephan took more time off to entertain. We’ll be extras in their play, not main characters.”
Walt rolled his head absurdly across the pillow to approximate a shake of his head. “Poor Larry is so nervous that they’ll see too much.”
“I think it’ll be fine. Charlie helped them sanitize their townhouse. He gave it the straight man’s test and even helped Larry tack up that huge landscape painting in front of The New Adam. I thought I was going to laugh myself to death when Larry showed him the painting and Stephan told him who it was.”
Walt chuckled at the memory. “Charlie took it better than I expected.”
“He did.” I had a fresh curiosity about the painting and asked about it. “Where on Earth did they get that ridiculous landscape? It’s a nice enough forest clearing but the cherubs all over the place make it silly.”
Walt explained. “It’s a backdrop from a production of ‘A Midsummer Night’s Dream.’ Larry salvaged it from a set they were striking.”
“I guess that’s as good a use for it as any. As for David and Abby, they’re going to stay in the apartment next door, so they won’t be at the townhouse at all hours to see how the couple conduct themselves in their private moments. Sunshine is fixing them up with a rental car for their whole stay. Larry and Stephan can’t do anything more than they’ve done. Besides, if something happens and David and Abby see too much, they’ll just have to deal with it. They’re all mature adults and they should treat each other that way.”
“When are they coming?”
“Not next week, but the following.”
“It’ll be good to see them.”
“Yes, it will.”
“We’ve got a lot of good friends, Love.”
I agreed. “Yes, we do.” I yawned. “Good night, Love.”
“Good night.”
We settled in and relaxed away to sleep.
* * * *
Charlie looked around 30th Street Station in reverent awe. It was his first time inside the massive space because he’d flown into the city but was taking the train out. “This place is like a cathedral!”
I explained. “They called them cathedrals of industry. Back in the late 1800s and early 1900s they built everything like this. Even power plants were grand. My friend Bea explained it to me once, but I’m damned if I remember what she said. I think it was something about the spirit of ingenuity.”
“We don’t have anything like this back home. Our train station is made of wood. You wait on a platform right next to the ticket window.”
Walt smiled at the idea. “It would be quite a thing to build this huge marble temple in Grass Range. I wonder what the farmers would think when they watched their wheat go out on trains from a place like this.”
Charlie smiled back. “They’d think it was a huge waste of money.”
He bought his ticket from a counter, and we crossed the concourse to the stairs that led down to the platforms. The diesel engines filled the hollow space with the echoing grumble of machine noise. I missed the tick and hiss of the old steam engines. They were all gone, scrapped in the name of progress. Progress was great, but not all of it was good. Some of what we lost had value, like the quiet breathing of an idled steam engine.
The trains used to sigh like they were perfectly content to wait for the last passenger to board before they set off. The diesels rumbled impatiently like they were in a hell of a hurry. The whole world seemed to run faster than it used to, or maybe I was just getting too old to keep up.
Charlie strolled along with his head on a swivel, fascinated by everything he saw. He was fifty years younger than me. I wondered what he would see in his life that I couldn’t even fathom. The future seemed bright. We just landed a man on the moon. That was an amazing accomplishment of science and technology. We were also bogged down in a pointless war in southeast Asia. We were making great strides in some areas but seemingly going backwards in others.
In many ways, the world I grew up in was gone. Maybe that was best. Each new generation needed to make the world their own. I hoped Charlie’s generation would build a better one than mine did.
We found an empty bench on the platform and sat with Charlie between us. I marveled at the symmetry to another time when I waited at a train station with a member of the Ploughman family. “It’s 1970. I can’t hardly believe how much time has gone by. I put your father on his train out of this city forty-one years ago. In some ways, it feels like forever and in others it feels like barely the blink of an eye. When his train left, I hailed a cab and went to Mitch’s. The other Charlie was there, shirtless and beautiful. He was worried about your dad. He made me a gin and tonic that I swear I can taste right now.
“I was sad that your dad left because he was such a bright spot in my life. Sending him away was like snuffing a candle in a windowless room. Not even Charlie’s beauty could lift my mood on that black and terrible day. I sipped my drink as I plotted revenge on the men who hurt your father. I got it. Four men beat your dad. I found each one and beat them. I felt good when I hurt them. I felt right.”
I shook my head and held my arthritic hands in front of my face. “I hate the things these hands have done. I hate the man who did them. I’m glad I learned how wrong I was. I’m glad I don’t have to die with those sins on my soul.”
Charlie called my name. His voice wrested me out of the past. I apologized for getting lost. “I’m sorry, my friend. We’re supposed to be seeing you off. Sometimes I feel like I recognize so little of the world around me, I’m always looking for the one I remember.”
He accepted my apology.
“What about you? You’ve been here a little more than a month. I know the visit didn’t work out the way you thought it would, but I hope you’re glad you came.”
He smiled wistfully. “I am. I’m still hurting from losing Judy. I’m still working out how I feel about the way she lived and how she died. A part of me wishes I never met her at all, but then I think about how much she needed me when she didn’t have anyone else. I was able to help her have fun, even if it was only for a little while. I also helped her after she was gone.
“She gets to rest in a pretty place now. If I hadn’t met her, she would have gone to that potter’s field you told me about. There would have been no funeral, and no one to pray for her, no one to find out why she killed herself. As much as it hurt, and as much as it still hurts, I’m glad I knew her. I’ve been thinking about God’s plan like you said. Maybe I had to come here when I did, and meet her, and bear witness. She’s got someone to remember her now; someone to care.”
Walt patted Charlie’s knee to get his attention. “You’re a very mature young man to look at things the way you do.”
He shrugged like the praise was misplaced. “You and Law taught me so much. I’m different now than I was when I got here. A month ago, all I could think about was Emily and how I’d never meet someone like her again. Now I know there’s people out there who will be excited to meet me. I’ll find someone who will care like you two care for each other, or like Larry and Steph care, or like my mom and dad care. I’ll find someone to love, and to have kids with, and to make soup for when they’re sick.”
Walt beamed with pride. “And now you’ll know how to make it!”
He chuckled. “I can’t believe I’m learning to cook.” He gripped his bag like he was worried about something inside of it. “Walt, are you sure about giving me your dad’s cookbook? Wouldn’t he want you to keep it?”
Walt shook his head. “My dad would be thrilled that it’s helping someone learn the art that he loved. Keep it with my blessing and his.”
Charlie smiled like the new-risen sun. “I love you guys so much. Law, you said about how our family opened their hearts to you, but you did the same for me. You’ve done so much. Even if you let me pay you back the money you spent, I could never repay the kindness you gave to me and Judy, both of you. The funeral you gave her, it healed something inside me. All those great people who came to pray for her…”
A tear ran down his cheek and he scrubbed it away. “I wish there was a way for me to thank them. All those people who didn’t know her at all, they came through the snow and filled the church, and they did it for a stranger. I don’t even understand. There were so many people who should have cared, but they didn’t. It took a big group of strangers to see her off.”
Walt patted his knee again. “Reading was a great place to grow up. The people there are the salt of the earth. My father loved it. He wouldn’t have lived anywhere else.”
Charlie nodded. “I see why.” He cleared his throat. “I’ll miss you guys. I can’t wait to see you this summer. I’m so glad I came.”
The train whistle blew. The conductor checked his official pocket watch like he was a character in a black and white film. He shouted ‘all-aboard.’
We stood up and I hugged Charlie as tightly as I could. “I’m glad you came too. It wasn’t always fun, but it sure as hell wasn’t dull.”
He laughed and shook us both.
“And if it’s not super weird for me to say it, I love you too. You’re a wonderful young man and it’s a pleasure to know you.”
He and Walt hugged. He waved to us both and hurried to board his train.
The whistle sounded again and the diesel engine strained and the train left the station. Walt and I waited until it was gone before we left for home.
We got to the car and Walt got in the driver’s side. “I almost got in the back. It’s been nice having a chauffeur.”
I turned the heat on high. “I miss him already.”
“Me too. What do we do now that we’re empty nesters again?”
“I’m not doing a damn thing tomorrow. I’m exhausted. The next day, I’m going to spend some time at the VA. You and me need to spend some time together too. Let’s go on a date. I’ll do the VA in the morning, and we can have our date in the afternoon. Maybe we’ll see a movie or telephone Larry to see if he can get us tickets to an atrocious play. We’ll get dressed up and eat somewhere nice.”
“That sounds great. I’ll look forward to it. If you’re a proper gentleman for our date, I’ll reward you when we get home.”
“Oh yeah, how?”
“With a kiss, only lower.”
I laughed myself silly.
THE END
Epilogue
Hello! If you’re reading this, THANK YOU!! What did you think of the story?
The general consensus is that this one was dark, maybe even depressing. Perhaps it is. My dad has a question he asks at the worst times. He asks ‘what have we learned?’ In the past, he usually asked it immediately after I did something dumb. I’d miss the mark with a poorly aimed hammer blow and smash my thumb, and there would be pops with his question. A wrench would skip on a too tight fastener and I’d smash my knuckles, and there would be pops with his fucking question.
As much as that question usually made me want to choke him, the lessons it taught were valuable. I continue to ask myself that question when I think a situation needs analysis. I ask it now. ‘What have we (I) learned?’
I learned that some tales cannot be made fun. Most of these mystery stories are not ‘fun’ because of the subject matter, but they have lighthearted moments and a satisfying resolution. This story really didn’t, but I didn’t find that out until it was written.
I spoke to Lee and Dano about how the characters write their own parts because they must react to a situation in a way that is true to them. Law would never enter a scene and belt out a line from a showtune for a laugh. If I wrote him that way, it would shatter the trust you have in him as a character. Stephan could do that. Larry might, if the attempt was awkward enough, but Law never could.
The plot of the story is similar to the characters. Once the trouble is identified, the exploration must follow logical lines. I make decisions about how much to expose to the reader and when, but the story must ring true. In this instance, I started with a dead girl in a flophouse hotel room. I read several suggested scenarios from helpful readers and chose one that I thought I could make a full story out of. What I didn’t consider was how difficult it would be to break up the tension of a difficult situation.
Law and Charlie have no history, so there are no memories for them to discuss. There’s no sexual tension between them, because there can’t be. Law and Walt have settled their relationship differences long ago. They are comfortable with each other and content with themselves. They’re also old enough where naughty, spontaneous sex wouldn’t fit their characters.
Even Law is finally content with himself. He’s still occasionally haunted by the actions of his former self, but his prayers and repentance have quieted his dread over those actions. He recalls them as teachable moments instead of horrors to wring his hands over.
The point I’m making is that I never considered the dark tone that would be necessary for this piece before I wrote it. Once I had the dead girl and the decision that she really committed suicide, I had to put her in an impossible situation to explain her motivation. In order to do that, I had to expose all of us to each individual piece of that situation. Now that we’re at the end, I see the difficulty of the whole piece. The story reads like an overcast week feels. I think there was value in the story, but it’s not as entertaining as I would have liked it to be.
I also question how much more Law and Walt have to say to us. I won’t say this is the last story with them, but it might be. I will be taking a break from them for a while, and we’ll see what happens next.
Honestly, I never thought when I started to write Wasted Life, the first story in the series, that we’d be here five stories later still with the same core characters. When I came up with Law Edwards, he was a bit of a cliché as a noir detective. I created him as a middle-aged man, weary of the world, impoverished and worn down by life. Except for his sexuality, he could have been Philip Marlow or any number of other detectives who graced the pages of pulp magazines in the heyday of the genre.
He didn’t remain that way for very long. He found his voice and told me his story and waited patiently while I wrote it down. He’s got far more depth than I ever thought he would. There’s a richness to him that I never expected. He’s learned from his life and applied the lessons. That’s something many of the old-time detectives never did. Now that he’s reached his seventieth year, he’s grown into himself and settled. He helps people without bitterness. He loves his husband and appreciates the life he’s worked for. I admire his growth and introspection.
My audience (that’s you) has helped as well. Your suggestions and comments enabled him to grow and change and become a better man. You have added to the richness of his character. I appreciate the help! You have no idea how many times a comment has sent me into frantic rewrites of a story I thought was perfect. Not that I ever think any of them are perfect. Like a lot of people, I am my own harshest critic. I could edit these stories forever. Often, I publish when I reach the point of diminishing returns because I suspect that further tinkering would only make things worse.
I appreciate each and every one of you. I also appreciate the silent reader. I wish more of you would drop a note and give me your thoughts. I want to be the best writer I can be and the comments and emails are a big part of that. I’m so close to the stories that I often cannot see if something I’ve done is ‘wrong.’ I also respect your right to remain anonymous. I’m sure many of you come here to be entertained and I appreciate that. For those of you in that category, thank you for the time you’ve chosen to spend with me and Law! I owe you a great deal.
* * * *
The next story to be released will be a return to our friends from the Crown Vic universe! That’s right, Church and Shawn are coming back! I said that ‘Stolen Love’ was the final story, but I could not abandon our heroes to history, not yet anyway. The new story is written and needs a little more editing before it’ll be ready to publish. Look for it to be released within a month or so. I don’t know what the title is yet, so I can’t share it with you.
As for ‘A Poor Player,’ I hope you found value in the time we spent together. I appreciate the comments from the regular commenters, Lee, Dano, Geoff. I appreciate the emails from those who emailed. I thank Jim 82 for the original idea for the story. Thank you all!
Once again, from me and Law and Walt and David and both Charlies and Madam Mitch and all the Knights of Keystone and Bea and Owen and Doc and Stephan and Larry and Sunshine and Ted and all our friends in Philly and Reading and Montana, THANK YOU for spending your valuable time with us.
Yours,
Sam Stefanik
To get in touch with the author, send them an email.
