Cockroach's family had sent the first bouquets. One, a personal arrangement of pink and yellow posies. The other, a large cross of lilies from the offices of his father's scrap metal company. Claire had wept during the delivery, but composed herself just in time to thank Cockroach as he entered the door to the chapel, his arm draped protectively around Rudy.
Theo sat, stone-faced, in the row of pews closest to the twins. His sisters, Vanessa and Denise, plucked several tissues from an already depleted Kleenex box, and attempted to comfort one another beside him. Cockroach lead Rudy to the coffins of Winnie and Nelson. And she tearfully cradled each one before taking a seat amongst her siblings.
Cliff had always thought himself a strong man. As a boy, his brother James had been terminally ill, and his death had tested the very fortitude of the Huxtable household. A young Cliff had seen it through. He had tackled death. How was it that now, as a man of considerable experience and wisdom, he was somehow more fragile? Why had his masculinity lost its footing at such an inopportune time, a time wherein his family needed his strength the most?
Soon after, the cracks began to show. Hours of lost time. And Claire's venomous accusations when she found Cliff's shoebox in the safe behind the Ellis Wilson; a painting, appropriately enough, of a Haitian funeral procession.
"What...the hell...do you think you're doing?" she had hissed, "Bringing this...this shit into our home?"
And Cliff had said nothing.
His experimentation with crystal meth had begun innocently, if there is such a thing, back in medical school. Deep within the veritable labyrinth of the Hillman library, Cliff had struggled to keep his eyes open, the textbook in his hands a blur of meaninglessness. If only "Tailwind" Turner hadn't been visiting his campus that night. If only he hadn't offered an exhausted Cliff "something to help you study". If only, if only...
For the next few years, meth was his edge, his secret weapon. It enabled Cliff to excel above and beyond the aptitude of his fellow students. He rarely slept, memorizing entire volumes of biochemistry, anatomy, and physiology. He had graduated with honors, an inhuman hybrid of genius and track star. And Cliff's parents, Anna and Russell, had presented him with his grandfather's pocket watch after the ceremony. He had never seen them happier.
It was no surprise that Claire had been the one to ruin everything, to bring his terrible secret to the attention of his mother and father, to save him. At the time, Cliff had taken her confession as merely the revenge of a scorned woman; two weeks prior to graduation, Claire had caught him kissing Eunice Chantilly outside his dorm room, and an explosive argument had ensued. But as the months passed, Cliff came to know a kinder, more compassionate Claire. She was determined to see him through treatment. And after one full year of sobriety, she married him.
Cliff had persevered through an unrelenting internship unaided by his secret weapon. He had survived night after sleepless night of difficult labors, timing contractions, and cesarean sections. He was a respected obstetrician now, at the top of his field. He was a beloved father and grandfather. An attentive husband. And now, at the hands of these unspeakable events, he had been reduced to this. A broken shell. A drug addict.
"My brother says there aren't even bodies in those coffins." he had overheard Bud, Rudy's oft insensitive ex-boyfriend say after the funeral, "Sandra cut them into pieces, and fed most of them down the garbage disposal."
Cliff sat upright, not wanting to remember, not wanting to think. He had lost a substantial amount of weight in the three years since the tragedy. His once taut sweater now hung loosely around his gangly frame. His eyes were sleepy and bloodshot.
"I'm a track star..." he mumbled, "I'm a track star..."
Vanessa crawled toward her father on her hands and knees. Her eyes were swollen and bruised; her nose, visibly broken.
"I'm sorry, daddy. I'm sorry."
What had she said that had set him off? Cliff couldn't remember. He wrapped one arm around his mangled daughter. And night slowly bled into day.
