Page 122 of Diesel's Perseverance
A strangled sob escaped Myla’s lips, and he glimpsed tears sliding down her cheeks. He slipped into the seat next to her and put his arm around her, holding her tightly.
The minister closed the prayer book, said a few comforting words to the family, and then announced that the reception would be held at the parents’ house. He went over to the family, murmured his condolences, and shook Diesel’s and his father’s hands. A woman started singing “Amazing Grace,” and many people joined. Diesel stood there mute, staring at the coffin and thinking about Freddy’s corpse lying inside it.
After the hymn, he led Myla back to the funeral car. The roar of motorcycles filled the air, and Diesel lifted his chin at his brothers, who held their fists high, showing solidarity for a grieving brother. He swallowed the lump in his throat and helped Myla into the limousine.
When the door shut, he wrapped his arm around her. She buried her face in his shoulder and sobbed. He swept his lips on the top of her head and held her close as she let out her sorrow.
By the time they arrived at his parents’ house, her sobs had turned to sniffles. They sat in the car in front of the wood-framed two-story house he and Freddy had grown up in.
“Are you sure you wanna do this? We don’t have to, you know.”
“I want to. I want to say something to your parents. I need to be surrounded by people who will miss Freddy. I think it’s good for you to be there too.”
“We won’t stay long.”
“That’s okay.” She blew her nose and tucked the spent tissue into a small trash bag hanging by the door. “They think of everything.”
“That’s what they get paid for.” Diesel gave her a half-smile then stepped out of the car.
They walked up the sidewalk toward the house. He heard the rumble of a train upon distant tracks and the chatter of the people inside the house, their voices spilling out of the open windows.
Myla slipped her hand into his, and they stepped up on the porch. Without warning, Diesel was catapulted back fifteen years to their old porch with the squeaky swing. In his memory, he could hear Freddy’s gabbing about the baseball mitt he’d found at the park and him pretending to care. Freddy had been so earnest that he’d relented and played catch with his brother until the sun dipped down into the horizon.
Standing on the porch and entering his childhood home brought a deluge of memories he hadn’t expected. All around him, he could hear the voices of people from his past as they echoed through his recollections.
“It’s nice seeing you, Trenton. It’s been a long time since you came home,” a woman around his mother’s age said. He had no clue who she was, but she shared the same eyes and hooked nose as his father.
A slew of people came up to him, shaking his hand, hugging him, kissing his cheeks, and he thought he would lose it. Myla had been whisked away by a white-haired woman who he thought may have been one of Freddy’s high school teachers; she looked vaguely familiar.
Escaping the noise and questions put to him relentlessly, Diesel sneaked away to his favorite room—the study. It wasn’t a traditional study. It was more like a TV room that his dad liked to hang out in when he returned from a long truck driving haul. The room had the same feel even though the furniture, drapes, flooring, and TV set had been replaced.
“I’m glad you’re home, Trenton.”
His mother’s voice startled him. He whirled around.
“Hey, how’ve you been?”
“Before this horrible thing, pretty good. I can’t believe Freddy’s dead. The police don’t have any suspects. Do you know what happened to him?”
“Not really. He didn’t let me in on his life, but I wish he had. I would’ve been able to help him out. I think he got in over his head, but I’m just guessing. I suppose he’s at peace right now.”
“When you called and said he’d disappeared, I thought he just needed some time alone. I didn’t thinkthiswould happen.” She sniffled. “I hope you come home more often now that… he’s not able to.”
“I’m pretty busy, but we’ll see.”
“You seem pretty friendly with Myla.” A slight frown crossed her brow.
“Yeah. We got thrown together when this shit went down with Freddy.”
“Are you two dating?”
Diesel jerked his head. “I don’t date.”
“She’s a wonderful girl. I didn’t think she and Freddy made a very good match. Freddy needed someone less… independent. He needed to feel that he was adored and needed.”
“She’s cool.”I need to change this conversation right the fuck now.“You look good, but Dad looks older. Is he feeling okay?”
“He has a multitude of problems like”—she tapped the side of her head with her index finger—“high cholesterol, high blood pressure, diabetes two, acid reflux, and one other thing but I always forget what it is. He doesn’t listen to me at all, but you’d think he’d listen to his doctor. Nope, he doesn’t. He’s still smoking, drinking several beers a night, and I won’t even get into what a bad diet he has.”
