My List
- by joe herbert

Chapter 1

Me and my little brother Ronnie are at church serving a morning funeral. We don't mind, because we get to go to school late, and with the priest's permission too. It's February, but it doesn't seem to be that cold out.

We finish up the mass-it's for a neighbor who lived in the alley, Raymond Burns, I think. No, Ray Brennan. But we didn't really know the guy, he was too old, and didn't have any dealings with our family. We're just finishing up, putting out the candles, changing out of our hassocks, and put our coats on, and as usual, race each other home. Usually, it'll start by just walking, and talking a little bit. Then, as we draw closer to the house, either one of us will sense the excitement of the other, and suddenly break into the frenzied, almost frightened run, as though someone or something were right behind you, over your shoulder, bearing down, closing in, and we race one another madly towards the house. As we approach the pathway through Margaret Barrett's yard, to the short cut through our yard, and towards the front steps, we notice a car parked in front of the house. Nobody ever parks in that spot though, right in front of the concrete steps. If they know us, they'll pull up into the driveway. But this car is familiar, too. It belongs to Father Burns, the priest at the church where we'd just got done serving the damn funeral mass. Weird. Were we being told on? Did we do something wrong during the service? Goofing off? I couldn't think of anything- and besides, Burnsey would have laid into us about it right then and there if we'd gotten out of line. *1.

As we come up the front steps, still wondering what the hell is going on, the door opens, and who comes walking out but Father Burns himself. "Hi boys." he says, nonchalantly, and he walks right past us. Hmm.. I could see my mother in the doorway. They'd been talking. We walk through the door. She's crying. More than crying. Sobbing. She's very upset, but can hardly speak. I don't remember this emotion, this behavior on her. She tells us, through her uncontrollable tears, and I almost utter the words along like the lyrics to a song you know: "Daddy died." Her face twisted and contorted. Stunned. Silence. I walk past her through the front hall, into the doorway to the parlor, the one with dark panelling on one wall. Ronnie must be back there somewhere. They're probably hugging. He's probably crying. "Daddy died"- I repeat the words under my breath. What does this mean? " Daddy died." Disbelief. What are we going to do now?, I think to myself. He just got himself a good paying job, and things were starting to look up. How is the family going to manage? Where is Ronnie? I have no idea. A few minutes (hours?) pass, I ask Mommie "what happened?"

He was in North Carolina. Pulled into a truck stop, had a heart attack. She got a call from some woman. "Are you alone, Mrs. Herbert?" "Yes." "Are you sure there's no one else in the house with you, Mr.s Herbert?" "Yes, what is it?", now worried but more than worry, fear. The fear of knowing the truth of something so suddenly, with such impact, that it feels like God himself is pushing that truth right down into your head, on your shoulders, saying "wear this burden!" And she knew. "What's happened? Is it my husband?" She knew. Minutes later, Raymond Czekalski walks in, who'd been doing some work on the house, some paneling in the upstairs hall. Turns out Billy was home too, upstairs in the attic, having blown off a morning class at King's. He'd heard her scream after the phone call. Where is Billy though? I don't see him. I'm still there in the hallway, between the front hall and the parlor. Where is Ronnie?....

The house is packed with people now. People bringing food. Uncles, who hardly ever came to the house. They're there to help out, to take care of the details. Aunt Margaret is there. Even a couple of the old Polish lady neighbors are there, I think. There's so much food. I eat 5 pieces of cake. I get yelled at by Aunt Betty because I already had 4 pieces. What the fuck difference does that make? Daddy died. The other kids are home now, though I don't remember them coming home, or them being told or who told them. I decide to go upstairs and read a book.

Mommy comes up after a while. She sits on my bed. "How come you haven't cried?" she wants to know. I tell her that everyone else is so upset, I don't want to cry. "It's ok to cry" she says. She hugs me, and I cry. She leaves after a while, and I go back to reading my book. I call my friend Joe Mikelski and tell him why I wasn't in school that day. He doesn't believe me. Neither do I.

I'm back downstairs, (the next day?) and the milkman, Tom Luvender comes by with the day's milk. The whole house is full. He's in a good mood. Happy to see us. I come out to the porch. Now it is cold again. Ronnie is there behind me. "What's up guys?" he asks, bending down to grab the empty milk bottles. "Our father died," I tell him. "What?" he says. Ronnie and I at the same time, "Our father died". He wants to see Tom and tell him too. Tom gives us an extra bottle of chocolate milk, which we never get, unless we're doing a long run on the truck, and then only in pints or smaller, some butter, maybe a quart of golden gurnsey. Some eggs too. We thank him at the same time, me and Ronnie, and go back inside. Wow, mommy and the kids will be happy to see all this stuff that Tom gave us. But when we get inside, nobody even notices, and the place is so full anyway. We put the milk in the fridge. I wish I could go with Tom on his milk run. Get away from all this, with the family packed in every room, everyone sad, and bummed out and sort of just hanging around not knowing what to do with themselves. People smoking cigarrettes that release thick blue smoke into the room, picked up by the sunlight shining through one of the three small windows built into the new side door. The smoke just seems to find a spot and cling there at a certain level in the room. Even the smoke doesn't know what to do with itself.

All the relatives are there now. Uncle Gary and Aunt Cathy. Betty Alice and Barbara. Darlene. Uncle Buddy and Uncle Bob. Those two are in and out of Daddy and Mommy's room, going over papers, and whatever other business needs tending to, I guess. The phone rings. JoAnn picks it up. No, he's not here, she says, then hangs up, and swears out loud, using the F word. Wow. JoAnn can actually curse like that, and get away with it. The reality sets in.