10. MAX

Chapter ten

MAX

T he next couple of days drifted by. I found myself immersed in my usual routine, tinkering with bikes at the garage, sweating it out at the gym, but now with occasional texts with Eddie bringing some new rhythm.

Our conversations were short and fairly casual, peppered with my inquiries about his and Jared's well-being, snippets of updates, and the odd joke. But it felt like something new after so long when my life seemed to have been so still.

ME: Hey, just checking in. How's your day going?

EDDIE: Hey, all good here. And u?

Just finishing up at the garage. How about you?

Not too bad. Just catching up on some work. You?

Same here. Jared okay?

A bit subdued, but yeah think so

And then…

Just wanted to see how you're holding up

Taking it one day at a time. Jared's adjusting slowly

Glad to hear it. Let me know if you need anything

Appreciate it, Max. Thanks

I wondered about the funeral and the fishing trip but didn't want to push, either. Then, one afternoon, the shrill ring of the landline phone sliced through the quiet of my house just as I was washing up after some work. It had been so long since anyone had called the number that I almost jumped out of my skin. I only kept it on in case someone from the past called me on it to offer me a job or a lead on a bike.

I went to pick it up.

"Hello?"

"Hey there, Max. It's Frank Taylor, Megan's uncle," came that faintly familiar, gravelly voice.

I hadn't spoken to Frank in a long time, but his was one of those voices you never forgot. I could have guessed he always preferred the landline to the cell phone.

"Hey, Frank. How are you holding up?" I replied, trying to be light.

Frank didn't really mess around much with niceties.

"Listen, I wanted to tell you about Megan's funeral arrangements. Eddie wanted me to contact you."

"Okay, good."

"Do you have a pen, son?"

Frank outlined the details – the time, the location, and the arrangements for a gathering afterward. As I jotted down dates and addresses on a nearby pad, I wondered why Eddie hadn't called me or texted me himself. I guessed he was busy, but I would have called him myself.

I asked how Eddie and Jared were holding up. Frank gave a long sigh.

"Alright, considering," he said cautiously. "It's been tough on Jared, but Eddie is managing."

"Good to hear," I said. "It's hard for Eddie, with him being away for so long."

"Well," Frank said, "that will have to change now."

"Do you think he will move back?"

Frank sniffed.

"Can't see how not. But it'll be good for him to be back among family and friends."

I had lived my life in that town. I wondered if Eddie would agree with his uncle's summation.

"Yeah, he's got a few friends here, or me at least, which helps," I said.

"That's good to hear," Frank said very neutrally. He gave a nervous little cough. "Well, I'll see you at the funeral, then, Max," he said.

"Yeah, I'll be there. Take care, Frank."

***

On the day of the funeral, I stood before my bedroom mirror, adjusting the knot of my tie. My reflection stared back at me: black tie, black suit, black shoes, white shirt. The lines around my eyes seemed deeper now than even a few days before, my skin brown from working out in the sun, making my crow's feet look even deeper.

The drive to the cemetery was hard on the eyes, the sunlight falling through the branches of the trees that lined the streets, casting dappled shadows across the windscreen.

I parked up down the road a bit. There were a lot of cars. It was unsurprising: a young woman, known well to her community, a tragic death, an orphaned kid. People would want to come and show themselves.

As I approached the wrought-iron gates of the cemetery, I could feel the heaviness of the situation settle over me. I was never close to Megan, only knew her a little even when I lived with Eddie and his mom, so it was not my grief, but it was sad, the whole thing.

Entering the cemetery grounds, I was greeted by the rows upon rows of gravestones. The air was still and hot that day, save for the occasional rustle of leaves in the odd gust of warm breeze. There was birdsong, a lot of it, and actually very melodic.

Amidst the occasional sway of the trees, I navigated the paths of the cemetery, gravel crunching beneath my feet. Sunlight filtered through the canopy above, but then as I walked deeper into the stones, the tree cover finished, and I was in direct heat.

I felt little trickles of sweat forming and running down my back as my black jacket got hotter. I looked at the names on the grave markers; a shiver ran up my spine. All these people had lived and died in this city, and now all there was to remember them were these slabs of marble and granite.

Was that all I wanted for my life? Was that all Megan had wanted for hers?

Ahead of me, I saw small groups of people moving with purpose in what I guessed was the direction of the service. As I made my way after them, I exchanged quiet nods and somber hugs with those with whom I caught up, chatting with them for a few moments, then pressing ahead, moving in front, each time a little faster.

Eventually, I reached the graveside. There were a lot of people there. I could see several family members, their faces strained with grief. The casket, adorned with flowers and draped in black, was already in position.

Then I saw Eddie, composed with his arm loosely around Jared's shoulder. The last time I had seen the boy, he had been much younger. Only now that he was on the road to manhood did I see quite how striking was the resemblance between uncle and nephew. They had the same shape, the same color hair. They looked alike, as much as any father and son.

Young Jared exuded an air of being dazed by what was happening more than any obvious upset, his gaze numbly fixed on the casket before him. Eddie sometimes whispered gently to him, maybe telling him to be brave or to weep if he wished to.

A hush fell over the gathered crowd, broken only by that sound of birdsong. I stood at a respectful distance. A celebrant began to speak.

"We gather here today to honor the life of Megan, a beloved daughter, sister, and friend. Though she may no longer be with us in body, her spirit lives on in the hearts of all who knew and loved her…"

As I observed Eddie silently watching the moment, a wave of emotion washed over me. His presence beside Jared, the weight of what was happening to them so evident, stirred something in me – a profound sense of protectiveness toward him.

His fair hair was caught in the sunlight, a halo of golden blur framing his features, making him seem ethereal, hardly there at all.

The moment was strange and intense. Perhaps I had forgotten how much he made me feel. Perhaps I had forgotten how intensely I felt about him back then, when he had saved me, really, not just from myself but from total abandonment.

He'd never pulled me from a river, nothing like that, but sometimes I did feel like I owed him my life or at least the sense that my life was worth something. Even if I unraveled after he left, when I got myself back together, that sense still felt like it belonged to that time he had been so kind – and protective toward me. Not many people had been that, to be honest.

Eventually, the service drew to a close, and the casket was lowered into the ground. Mourners were invited to pay their final respects. One by one, we stepped forward, casting handfuls of soil onto the casket.

As the crowd began to disperse, I found myself unsure of what to do, uncertain of my place amidst the family of mourners. My gaze wandered toward Eddie.

"Hello, Max," came a voice from behind. I turned. It was Frank. I greeted him with a nod of acknowledgment. "Good to see you here."

He was with Jared, Eddie's nephew, his great-nephew.

"This is Jared," he said. I said hi. The boy stuck out his hand for me to shake, in that way that teenagers can, not quite knowing the formalities but wanting to look grown up, so I shook his hand.

"A pleasure to meet you, Jared. I know your uncle. I knew your mom."

"A pleasure to meet you, too."

His voice was little more than a fifteen-year-old's mumble, and he gazed at me hesitantly, with the same bright blue eyes as Eddie.

"I'm really sorry about your mom," I said, and he looked worn-out, maybe by people saying that to him. Frank changed the subject.

"Do you know what Max does for a living, Jared?" he asked.

"No," the boy replied, and really, how could he?

"He fixes up motorbikes."

Jared's eyes lifted to mine.

"You are into motorbikes?"

I shrugged.

"Cars, motorbikes, anything with an engine."

Jared started to grin.

"Cool! What are you working on now?"

"Just finishing up a vintage Yamaha XS750 for resale."

"Oh, immense !" Jared cried.

I laughed.

"You know what that is."

"I saw about them on TikTok."

"Why don't you let him come over one day, Max?" Frank said. "Maybe the boy will want to do it for a career."

It was very Frank to make up an invitation without asking, but I didn't mind.

"If you'd like that, you'd be very welcome," I said.

Jared looked really pleased.

"I would love it."

"And why don't you come back for a drink at the house?" Frank said.

His invitation was kind, but I couldn't shake the feeling of intruding on their family moment.

"Thanks, Frank," I said. "I actually have to head back."

He nodded understandingly, taking no offense. Turning his attention to Jared, Frank's demeanor shifted. "You hungry, boy?" he asked, his voice gentle and reassuring. "Your aunt Rita has made five thousand sandwiches no one is gonna eat."

"I'll eat them!" Jared said.

After the two of them walked away, I milled around for a while. Eventually, Eddie approached me and said hey. When he extended his hand, I instinctively pulled him into an embrace, and it felt good to hold him. He was breathing heavily and slowly. I could feel his emotion.

As we broke apart, we smiled at each other for a moment.

"Frank invited Jared to come over to my place and look at some bikes with me," I said.

He rolled his eyes.

"Frank is a law unto himself. Really, you don't have to."

I grinned.

"Nah, I don't mind at all. Let him just come and hang out with me. He can talk to me about his mom if he wants then."

Eddie cast a glance back at Frank and Jared in the distance.

"Thanks."

"And we could go on that fishing trip, too. If you want."

A soft smile spread over Eddie's lips.

"Okay," he said. "How about the weekend, maybe?"

"Sure," I said. "Definitely."

"Eddie!" His cousin, Julianne, was calling him. He turned around. "Come say hi to Chrissie Garcia."

He looked back at me.

"I don't even know who Chrissie Garcia is."

I laughed.

"Neither does Julianne. She's palming her off on you."

He grinned and ran his hand down my arms in thanks, I guessed. His fingertips ran the length of my forearm and then, very briefly, the skin of the side of my hand.

"Text me," he said.

I grinned.

"I will."