Part 15
Once again, Nattie is MIA. No one can find her, and this time, I have a sinking feeling in my gut. Day in and day out, we all split up, looking for her in different areas, different times of the day. Nothing ever comes of it.
Chuck had an idea, and now me and my partner are scouring all the known crack houses, trying to find a clue as to where she is. Each crack house we go to sends me deeper into myself, because this filthy, nasty, completely revolting life was hers.
"Stop it, Joel. This isn't going to get us anywhere. You need to focus on the now, not what was, you hear me?" I look over at Mother F who is stepping over a passed out body, leaning down to see if it's her.
"I know... Fuck, I hate that I thought my life was so bad, when she-" I cut off when I see one of Nattie’s johns smoking out of a pipe.
I cross over to him, and I hear Mother F talking but don't listen, tapping the man on his shoulder. "Hey... Where's Nattie? You seen her lately?"
The paranoia of the high sends the man swinging, and I get clipped on the jaw. The pain barely registers, and I do something I've never done when hit. I back up.
Holding my hands up, I speak in the calming voice I've learned to use when Nattie’s high. "Okay, man... Do your dope. Just lookin for Nattie is all."
His head shakes vigorously, his eyes looking left and right as if looking for her himself. "I dunno. Been a long time since I saw her. ‘Bout a week, and I went to Canada to find her, and then Mexico. No Nattie to be found."
Nodding, I back up, eyes on him the entire time. I grab Mother F by her habit, and we quickly and silently make our way to the truck.
Sitting in the truck, I look over at Mother F. "Guess we head back to my apartment, huh?"
I drive off and my phone chirps with an incoming text. Tossing it to her, she reads it out loud. "Chuck says we need to go to this address."
She rattles off the address,which is in Roxbury. I plug it into the GPS and we are off. The entire ride is done in silence, my foot bouncing on the accelerator in nervous tension.
"Talk to me, Joel. What are you thinking right now."
Silently, I make the final turn towards the address and freeze when I read the name on the building. "Massachusetts Office of the Chief Medical Examiner." My head drops, and I can't breathe. I knew it. That damn niggle in my gut told me it was bad. I start banging on the dashboard as Mother F rubs my shoulder.
"Joel, breathe and focus. Come on, I see Chuck and Sonnie waiting by the door. Let's go see, before we get anymore upset."
I just sit there, head resting on the steering wheel until I find my calm. I knew it. I fucking knew me telling her would set her off.
I get out of the truck, slamming the door before heading towards everyone. I'm silent when we get there, and Chuck grabs my shoulder.
"Stop. Look at me right fucking now, J." I turn and look at him, and I see the determination and sadness in his eyes.
"What? Let's just do this, okay?" I push past him, open the door, and everyone silently walks up to the front desk. Chuck, calm as always, explains the situation to the desk clerk.
Then we wait. The tense silence gets on my nerves, so I start humming, just to make it bearable for me.
"Family of Natalie Denton?"
I jump up and look around, seeing a short, balding man holding a file.
"That would be me. What's going on?" The man looks over at us, taking in the bunch of us, and sighs.
"Family only. The rest can wait here."
Oh no. I can't do this alone, I know I can't. My eyes frantically bounce between them, and I beg with my eyes for someone to do something.
Mother F stands and grabs my arm. She walks over to the man with me and quietly tells him, "Family has a right to clergy or religious support, so I'm going with him." The man nods, and we cross through his office door, and take our seats.
The man clears his throat, and begins.
"Four days ago, Natalie was brought into our morgue after collapsing in a diner. She had no identification, so fingerprints were taken to identify the body. It was also a sudden death, so an autopsy was performed."
Okay. So she was eating... That means she wasn't high. Not then at least, so overdose wasn't the issue. Now I'm confused.
"And?"
The man continues on about different technical aspects of the autopsy, and finally concludes. "So, the Medical Examiners findings are that Natalie died of a myocardial infarction, or heart attack."
He says it so nonchalantly that I wonder how many times this man has to tell people this. I'm numb about everything else except the fact that he has a really fucking shitty job.
Mother F? Not so. She asks the question I should have. "So where is she, so we can prepare for her burial?"
The man clears his throat, and looks nervously around. Now I'm getting the feeling that I'm not going to like this part any better. "Well, since she had no money, and no next of kin, she was cremated, and her ashes are being stored in our database."
"I want them. Now. Today. Ten fucking seconds ago."
"Joel... Relax. We will solve all of this, okay?"
I shut up and immediately start spinning my ring, frantically trying to find a calm inside me. It's not working. At all.
"Well, the costs of her autopsy, cremation and all other fees have to be paid before we can release the ashes." He pauses and looks at me before continuing, probably taking in my everyday attire of jeans and a sweatshirt, judging my money situation off of it.
"The costs have come to $7,734.56. We can hold the ashes as long as payment is being made." I laugh. I'm sure it's inappropriate for me to do so, but I laugh hard. It doesn't subside until my sides hurt, and I look at Mother F and her frown.
Clearing my throat, I mumble, "Just have her ashes ready by the time I get out of this office, okay?"
I shoot a quick text to Chuck, who's right in the next room, telling him the costs, and to pay the desk clerk as I finish in here.
We wait silently as the man prints out all the paperwork, and his phone rings. He answers, and his eyes shoot to me, almost shocked. That's right, asshat. I've already paid.
He hangs up and quickly slides papers to me to sign, and I sign them, after I read them twice, committing the entire report to my memory.
"Are we done here? I've gotta take care of some stuff now with my mother. I'm sure you understand." He nods, and I quickly exit his office, Mother F behind me. I catch a glimpse of everyone staring at a box in Chucks hands, and I hurry over to grab the box.
A fucking cardboard box. That's all I have left of the mother I needed my entire life, as she needed me.
I walk out of the building, not feeling the cold or wind whipping around me. I slide against the brick building and rest Nattie on my lap. There's a sticker on the box, and I read out loud to myself.
"Case: 14-0112
Name: Natalie Denton
Age: 51
Status: Non-criminal. Natural Causes"
~~~~~~~~~~
Part 16
It's hard. I'm trying to find solace in the fact that she wasn't high, and she wasn't in any pain at the end, but I can't get over the fact that as soon as I find the woman who has haunted me my entire life, she's gone.
I am so glad I did it, because I have closure. Where there was anger and self doubt, now there’s peace and the knowledge that life happened. It wasn't a malicious thing she did. Necessity and life were what she focused on all those years ago, and I honestly thank her for it now.
My apartment has become a continuous stream of people checking in. They think they are smart enough to have one reason or another as an excuse, but I see through them all.
I don't mind it. During the day, I accept the distractions they provide, and just relish in the fact that they care enough to do it.
Each has their own way of distracting me, and I honestly just ride it out, go to work, and then fall into the comfort of Paris in my dreams.
That is the only time I have true peace with all of this - in my dreams, where I hold her, and she holds me back while I cry. It's the most cathartic thing, even if it's a dream. I wake with tears on my pillow, and face the day.
Today it's Chuck’s day. He's brought beer, and old movies and after laughing at his choices, I selected The Karate Kid.
I watch the transformation Daniel went through, along with the gentle pushes and guidance of Mr. Miyagi. It's amazing how a movie I've watched a billion times in my life, finally connects.
Beer and "wax on.. Wax off" jokes cover my realizations, but as usual, Chuck sees through it. "You know, J, you can joke around all you want, but you need to admit that you're hurting."
I drain the rest of my beer, and answer as I stare at the tv. "Never said I wasn't hurting, Chuck. Never said I wasn't."
He sighs before grabbing us more beer. This time he plops himself right beside me, instead of in the chair. "Then why don't you talk about it?"
"What's to say? It fucking sucks? Hurts? Hurt is an understatement, Chuck. It's almost like I just found her, loved her, and POOF! She's gone. Talking doesn't change that."
"No, but it makes it easier to deal with, doesn't it?"
I sip my beer, trying to see if I feel any better after saying it. I don't. My eyes stray to the urn that now has my mother’s ashes inside. "Not really."
"What will? What will make this easier for you?"
"I have no fucking clue, man. Not one."
Actually I have about fifty, but none are possibilities, so I try to push them out of my head.
"Come on, J-Man. Out with it."
The new voice startles me. I was so deep in thought that I didn't hear her come in. Fucking hell, at this moment I can't battle the both of them, so I just drink beer and watch the movie.
"Joel, come on, let it out."
Holy shit! I jump up and spin around at the sound of Mother F's voice. I see all of them. Every person is in my fucking apartment, staring at me, expecting some brilliantly tragic shit to come out. It's not happening.
"You can all sit and fucking stare at me all you want, needling me, pushing me, doing whatever the fuck you want, and nothing is going to change. My mother is dead, just after I found her. My wife is a million fucking miles away, and I just want to get lost in her. Fuck! I want to make all this shit better, but reality is reality. Talking about it won't change a fucking thing."
I storm off to my bed, falling down and pulling a pillow over my face. I don't know how to make it all go away. I just want it all fucking gone. Is that too much to ask? Apparently so. I feel a dip on the bed and cringe. Fucking relentless, the entire lot of them.
"J-Man, you just gotta let it out. You're right, it's not going to change shit in reality, but getting it out, even then, makes it easier."
"Fine. I admitted it, and it still fucking hurts, okay?" I mumble into my pillow, not wanting to admit that there's less chaos inside me.
She pats my leg, gets up off the bed and laughs. "All I wanted was you to admit that, so you can deal with it. I'll see you at work tomorrow, right?"
I nod into the pillow and hear the shuffle of people leaving my apartment. I pull my pillow off my face, and my eyes immediately go to the urn. Her fucking ashes.
"What are your plans for those, Joel?"
"Jesus Christ on a crutch! Won't you guys just leave me alone?"
I feel something hard tossed onto my chest, and I look down and see a Holy Bible. Maybe using that phrase wasn't the best idea to a nun. "I'm going to ignore that comment, Joel."
I roll onto my side, resting my head on my hand. "Please do. I'm not really at my best."
She sighs as she walks over to the urn, gently rubbing her fingers over the sleek surface. "You are not the type to keep ashes, Joel. You would focus on them too much for your well-being."
She's right. I already find myself staring at them all the damn time. All the time. I wake in the morning, I stare at them. I'm eating and staring at them. "What do I do? I mean... This is your specialty isn't it?"
She chuckles, making her way to the kitchen, and pulls out the stuff for sandwiches. I get up and we start making them together.
"Well, I wouldn't say my specialty, but you have options. You can bury them, spread them somewhere, or inter them in a tomb."
I grab the sandwiches, she pours us each a coffee, and we eat silently as I think. There's no way that I will put her into the ground. No damn way. I can't bear to open the urn and dump her out somewhere, but the internment? Maybe.
"What do I need to do to inter her?"
She sips her coffee, and I can see her mind working. "Well, there is the Denton Family plots, since she is a Denton and all."
"No fucking way. They pushed her into this life, ignored me, knowing where I was, and basically are shit for me. Not happening."
I pull out my phone and quickly dial Chuck. His rushed answer makes me think I've interrupted something, but I ignore it. "Man, I need you to find a place that I can inter Mom’s ashes. Above ground, in a tomb, in a happy place."
His distracted, "Done" is overlaid with a female’s giggle. I chuckle. "Get back to your entertainment. We can talk later." I hang up and look at Mother F. "Problem solved."
---TBC---
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