Freedom Weed Chapter 1

This is the first chapter from my novel Freedom Weed set during the rise and fall of the Spokane, WA medical marijuana dispensary system. An online literary journal called One Title will publish a selection from the novel in their summer edition coming out June 28th. Check it out! For this part of Freedom weed I drew from the experience of seeing my grandmother watch the friends around her fall into ill health and pass away due to the fact that she's been cursed/blessed with a long, healthy life.

Mom sure knew how to go, Jay Dennesey thought, ushering the few well-wishers who’d made their way out to Thorn’s Funeral Home for his father’s Tuesday morning funeral. His mom had been a tough old bird who got into bed one day shortly after her 65th birthday, said goodbye to everyone she loved, then, three days later....plop. Jay didn’t really appreciate how skilled his mother had been at dying until it took his old man nearly six months to kick the bucket.
            Certain the entire audience of mourners had arrived, Jay re-lit a store-bought cigarette he’d ashed out in the beige rocks on top of a slender steel bucket near the front entrance of the funeral home. Thorn’s Funeral Home was an icon. As he smoked, Jay peered up at the same sign that had been there since he was a kid. In looping, outdated font it read, “Since 1937. Passing with Dignity.”  The Spokane Valley had grown up around the old brick building, now a dignified relic sandwiched between auto repair shops and fast food joints. What this place must be worth, thought Jay, looking at the two dozen or more parking spots in front of what he guessed was at least an acre of prime commercial property.  He listened to a few cars buzz past before one last drag from his cigarette.

Inside, the atmosphere was decidedly drab. Dark hardwood floors in the entryway accented eggshell colored walls. Jay joined his brother, John, who had already found his seat directly in front of the casket they’d rented for the viewing before cremating the old man. Scattered throughout the cheapest service room of the funeral home, a few mourners fiddled with the hem of their pants or tinkered with the clasp of a coin purse, each looking down, avoiding one another.
            “So, when he passed...did he say anything?” John asked Jay.

“No. Nothing,” Jay lied. The old man had screamed like a banshee in his last moments as the pulse inside his wormy veins came to a slow stop, confessing all kinds of sins—real and imaginary. “He went,” Jay paused, “quietly. No pain. I went in to feed him and he was...just...dead.”

“I wish I would have been there.”

            A petite elderly woman whose name Jay and John should have known came up to them and put her knobby hand out to Jay. Both men stood.      

            “He was a nice man,” the woman squeaked.

            “Thank you,” John and Jay said nodding while the small, hunched over old lady walked back to her seat.

            Jay barely filled out the old suit he found in his dad’s closet. His brother, on the other hand, had a soft bulge growing above the waist of his pants. When they were younger most people could pinpoint the brotherly similarities. Now it was GI Joe next to Ken with man-boobs.     

            “John,” Jay whispered, “where are Sandy and kids?”

            “Sandy doesn’t think a funeral would be healthy for their emotional development. You know? They’re still pretty young for a funeral,” John answered, eyes forward.

            “Okay then. What about Sandy? Why couldn’t she make it?”

            “She,” John hesitated, still looking forward, “she didn’t want to have to explain to the kids why she’d be leaving. And besides, her mom couldn’t get away to watch the kids.”

            “What?” Jay’s whisper scraped the back of his throat. “Darla couldn’t skip going to the god damn casino for one Saturday?”

            “Well I guess they’re giving out double points this weekend on losses and she didn’t want to miss out on that. They only do that every once in awhile.”

            With closed eyes, Jay rubbed his temples in small circles and took a deep, audible breath. Another mourner wearing a cloth paperboy hat shuffled by and nodded at the brothers. Jay recognized him as one of his dad’s co-workers from back in the hardware store days. Neither of them remembered the man’s name; all they could offer was a solemn nod in return. Jay leaned over to his brother again.

            “John?” Jay spoke firmly. “What do you mean Sandy didn’t want to explain to the kids why she’d be leaving?”        

            John sat silently.

            “Do they not know dad’s dead?”

            John sighed, licked his lips and shook his head.

            “John? They don’t even know their granddad died?”

            Knowing full well the weakness of his character, John shrugged his eyebrows over two watery eyes.

            “Jesus fucking Christ John!” Jay’s raspy, angry voice rose above a whisper. He looked back to find that the small old lady from before sitting a few pews behind them could still hear quite well. Her sideways glance—pouty lipped and a little frightened—had heard almost more than she could bear.

            “You couldn’t even get your wife to pay her respects to the old man?” Jay scoffed. “Well I guess I should be happy that at least she let you come.” With that Jay stood and walked to his father’s body.

            Jay could smell the sweet, soft scent of the white roses to the left of the open casket. His father looked mad. He looked mad it’d taken him so long to die and that his wife left him before he was ready to lose her, he was mad his smart son never saw him and that his loner son who couldn’t even land a wife or a girlfriend or even a lay every now a then had to be the one to sit by his side and watch him die. Jay reached in the coffin, laid a hand on his father’s shoulder, feeling the pointy bones struggling against the thin, dead skin—he squeezed and wished he could feel his dad’s handshake once more before letting him go.

            Turning around to a sadly lit room, Jay saw barely a handful of mourners strewn about the seats—old well wishers who had also lived too long. A geriatric crowd that woke every morning to scan the obits for past acquaintances who’d passed on so they can pay respect or just make sure the bastards are dead. What a life, Jay thought to himself looking out at the few elderly people speckled in the nearly empty room, live long enough to see everyone else die.