Bury the Dead: Epilogue

Ollie Chapman—Friday, December 20, 2019

The last day before winter vacation was quite possibly the longest day of the school year. At least in June they had half days because of exams. Sure, the teachers were contractually obligated to linger, but they didn’t have to try to keep students from going completely feral all the way until the final bell. The last day before break was a lost cause no matter when it fell, and some days the bar of success was mere survival.

Ollie gathered up the stuff she thought she might need, if not really want, and awarded herself a mental gold star for survival. Once she made it home, through the traffic that never really went away—thank you, Traverse City, for being a year-round playground—she’d get another mental gold star. And then she’d stop with the teacher metaphors until January, thank you very much.

It was amazing how quickly she’d gotten used to seeing lights on when she came home. Every so often Eli talked about renting some office space just to have somewhere else to go during work hours, but he hadn’t moved from her desk in the living room yet. He had plans to try out a couple coworking spaces in January before committing to one, but it was nice to come home to something other than an empty apartment.

Without actually calling out “Honey, I’m home!” though, in case he was in a meeting. With his headphones and microphone, sure, but still. Eli worked until five, and that meant she had some time after she got home to decompress without having to talk to someone else. They’d moved the desk so she could go into the bedroom or kitchen without showing up on the video feed if they used it during a meeting, so it all worked out. The apartment was a bit small with two people, but they’d worked it out.

Today, though, Eli met her at the door looking grim. “I took off early,” he told her as she unwound her scarf and took off the rest of her outer layers, which wasn’t very reassuring. It wasn’t until she got her stuff in the closet and her keys on their hook that she saw the wrapped package propped against the sofa.

The package itself wasn’t anything extraordinary. It wasn’t even the only wrapped package in the room—they’d put up the Christmas tree the day after Thanksgiving without acknowledging that it was full Clark family tradition, and there were multiple brightly-wrapped boxes already waiting for next Wednesday—but the envelope taped to the front was different. It was a regular letter-sized envelope, and it was Dad’s handwriting: Ollie and Eli.

“It wasn’t his address on the box,” Eli explained, arms crossed to keep himself from hugging her or maybe holding her back. “I guess the UPS store printed the label. So I opened it that far, but …”

But.

They hadn’t even tried going north for Thanksgiving because Ollie’s break wasn’t long enough. Esther didn’t have anywhere for them to sleep, so she told them to stay down for Christmas, too, and enjoy their first real Christmas together. She’d come down for their wedding—a weekday in August, on the beach, officiated by Brad, and conducted over two minutes at sunrise before breakfast at The Omelette Shoppe—and figured they’d be up next summer, but Ollie hadn’t had any contact with Dad. Not even anything from Cindy outside her usual Facebook posts, which Ollie assumed meant Cindy decided to stay with Dad and therefore side with him, but now … Now Dad sent something with both their names on it, and Eli took off work early so he’d be able to focus on her when she confronted it.

Ollie realized she was chewing on her chapped lower lip and forced herself to stop. “What do we open first?”

“Hell if I know.” Eli blinked and then tried out a grin to apologize for his tone. “Your choice. Could be neither.”

“Curiosity killed the cat,” she grumbled, pulling the envelope off and handing it over before carefully leaning the package forward to get at the seam in the wrapping paper on the back. Based on size and shape, she assumed it was something in a picture frame, and Frosty and his animated pals tore away to show it was, in fact, a collage of pictures.

Ollie sat back on her heels, momentarily speechless. It was one of those frames that came with a precut white mat, so you only had to pick which 4×6 photos you wanted to use. Some were vertical and some horizontal, so that limited things, but Dad had a lot to work with. They were all photos of Ollie and Eli.

Well, it wasn’t just Ollie and Eli—the senior prom photo had Dad, Mom, and Birdy, too—but that was clearly the theme. Little chubby cheeked kindergarten Ollie and Eli here, sixth grade graduation there, high school graduation in the corner … and, surrounded by other ages, Ollie and Eli at Clinch Park Beach at sunrise, Ollie in a simple white sundress and Eli in a linen shirt and blue jeans, kissing, Eli’s wedding ring clearly visible as he cupped her face.

Huh.

“Harper must’ve given him that one,” Eli murmured, bending down for a closer look before tilting his head. “Or my mom?” Harper was the designated photographer, but both Harper and Esther had signed the marriage license as witnesses. Either way meant Dad asked them for the photo … and one of them gave it, without mentioning anything to either Ollie or Eli.

Double huh.

Eli offered her the envelope and she took it, first moving the photo collage to one side before taking a seat on the couch. The envelope was properly sealed, so she had to get a finger under the flap and tear it open. There were multiple sheets of notebook paper inside, all handwritten on one side only, and another photograph. This one showed Dad’s living room where most of the photo collages were the ones Mom put together, except they’d been moved and adjusted. One that was probably an exact copy of the one by her feet hung in the middle of the short wall so it could be seen from the couch. Ollie looked at it and then handed it over to Eli as he sat down next to her.

The letter was long, and she skimmed it first before going back to the beginning and reading each page, then passing it over so Eli could do the same. For once he didn’t complain that she read faster, merely taking the pages and going through them at his own speed until they all lay in his lap and he looked over at her. “So …”

Ollie shrugged like she could pass this back to him.

Eli nodded slowly, gathering the letter up and putting it together so he could fold it and put it back in the envelope. “Okay. He apologizes for very specific things and takes responsibility for them. He maybe toes the line between explaining and justifying, but it’s a clear attempt to keep from just blaming something or someone else. And he stepped up and reached out to make contact for the first time in months, so Alastair would say he’s doing the work.”

“Alastair would also have to consider that this is a single data point. We could assume progress based on previous interactions, but …” Ollie shrugged. “That’s Dad’s handwriting, but maybe it’s someone else’s words.”

“Eli thinks that’s a valid observation, but you’re never going to know for sure if you don’t let your dad have more than this one data point.”

She leaned back into the couch, crossing her arms. “So we’re forgiving him?”

“We might acknowledge that he made his accusation in the middle of a very stressful week and that he clearly didn’t think it through.” Eli set the envelope on the end table and turned to face her, one arm propped on the back of the couch so he could lean his head against his hand. “And that you made a grand gesture in response, clearly taking my side and cutting him off … and he accepted that decision.”

Ollie raised an eyebrow.

“He didn’t follow us down here. He didn’t figure out when we were getting married and crash the wedding. He’s got a photo, sure, but months later, and even though he wasn’t there and you told him you didn’t want him to be, he’s got it hanging up in his house. So.” Eli shrugged. “I don’t know, Olls. Family’s complicated, but that’s an olive branch if I ever saw one. I’m not saying you should call him up and tell him we’ll hop in the car tomorrow. I’m not saying you have to make any sort of contact tonight. Just … maybe don’t decide not to just yet.”

She looked at him long enough to give him the chance to walk any of that back if he wanted to and then got up to go to her bag. “You hold on to this,” she told Eli, pulling out her phone and handing it over, “and go get me a beer. I’m going to change and … I don’t know.”

He tried to stop a mischievous grin and failed beautifully. “One of your presents is a book of lateral thinking puzzles. Published just this year, so I figure I’ve got a chance. I can point out which one.”

“And join me in the beer, or are you going to take the sober advantage?”

He stood up to pull her in close. “You kidding? I’ll take every advantage I can get. I married up, you know.”

“Eli …”

“I know you think you did,” he reassured her, kissing the tip of her nose, “but you’re wrong. Go on—I’ll get your beer and your book and we’ll put in some good couch time.”

“I love you.”

He broke into a grin the way he always did when she said it, like each time she told him was the first. “I love you, too. Hey.” Eli pulled her in for a hug. “We’ll get through this the way we’ve gotten through everything else, you know.”

Ollie nodded and held him tightly. “Together.”

THE END

---