February 22nd 2021

Chapter 53
Our Plans For Legacy

Lucas' ride from home to Sullivan Stables had been familiar to him long before he lived where he lived and worked where he worked. There had been times, as he was growing up, when he would be taken from one location to the other, and they would travel those same roads, turn those same turns, riding past buildings that became almost more associated with this trip than with their purpose in the world. If ever he had to stop somewhere on the way, heading one way or the other, it felt like he was diverging from that very practiced itinerary. It would almost be like he'd gone on it so long as to dig a groove under his wheels that he just followed, and suddenly he had climbed out of there unto rougher, less worn terrain.

That morning, construction somewhere near halfway in between forced him to take a detour. It was actually interesting to him to explore another path, to see different landmarks. They became that much more noticeable to him for it as he drove on. But then there was one…

The memory came at him so out of nowhere that it was just as well he'd slowed to a red light stop a second before, or he could have hit the brakes or lost focus when he wasn't supposed to. Instead, he sat there, in his stopped car, and looked to the building on the corner across the street. It was the statue out front that caught his eye, inner and outer both.

He remembered so clearly sitting out there, on the bench across from that statue. He remembered his father coming to find him, sitting next to him. He'd had this look on his face, like he'd been either worried or angry… or both… And then he'd found his son here, and all of it had been defused in an instant. Thomas had put his arm around his shoulders, and they'd just stayed there.

This was the funeral home where they'd brought Marianne Sullivan after she died, where her loved ones gathered and paid their respects. Lucas had memories of this place that felt possibly tied to his experience as a boy in there, turning the whole building into a ball of dread heavy in his gut. He remembered his suit had been uncomfortable, too tight at the neck, and scratchy, and hot. He'd needed to get out of that place with the weird smells, and the people coming at him like they knew him, poor little boy who'd lost his grandma. So, he'd stepped outside, sat on the bench. He remembered wanting to loosen his collar but not daring to. His mother was already having such a rough time of it, and this would displease her, it wouldn't be proper.

After five minutes of them sitting there, when Lucas had tugged at that too tight collar three times, his father had reached over and helped loosen it up for him. Maybe that tightness had held in his emotions, because as soon as it had come away, the ball in his throat was rendered into sniffling tears. His father hadn't said anything, just held him and looked at the statue.

It wasn't the first time he'd gone past this place in the last seventeen years, no way, but it was the first time the memory knocked the air from him in this way, and he wasn't sure why. He was taken out of that memory when the driver behind him ever so gently sounded their horn about seven times to let him know the light had gone green and he needed to keep moving. Lucas was taken with an impulse all of a sudden to drive on, yes, but only so far as to then pull to the curb in front of the funeral home and park.

He climbed out of his car, looked to the building, the statue, as he walked around to stand on the sidewalk. There was something he was supposed to remember, something else. Whatever it was, it had gotten him to stop his journey to work, to come and stand here and look. What was it? He couldn't stand out here forever, he had to get to the ranch, but he knew that if he didn't find it… didn't at least try… then it would stay with him. He had to try.

He walked around the statue, the well-cared for monument on its plinth, and trailed his feet along until he could sit on the bench. It was the same one, after all these years, and it too had stood the test of time. The view wasn't exactly the same. For one, he was significantly taller than he'd been at age eleven. Also, it was February now, when it had been summer then. The building across the street had gotten a significant update since he'd last sat here, and a couple of the trees were new… or taller, he wasn't sure.

He stared at the statue, tried to see if it would bring back this memory from the depths where it had started calling to him. He took out his phone, briefly considered calling Maya, or his father maybe, someone who might be able to get him to remember. His screen lit up, showing a picture he'd taken just a few days back, when Maya had brought Marianne to Sullivan Stables, to meet him for lunch. She hadn't known he was there yet, and he'd captured the shot of her standing there, with their baby girl held in her arms and awake, her eyes turned in his direction, whether or not she could actually see him from where he stood. It was one of his favorite pictures, the ones he'd taken anyway.

It reminded him of that first time they'd brought the baby out there, to meet everyone, to go around, and it was fortuitous in that way. It was just the thing he'd needed, to remember what it was about this place that made him stop all at once. He stood and turned back to face the bench. It was old, yes, but massive and sturdy in a way, he guessed, which could have facilitated its survival across the years. And yet… And yet not so sturdy as to keep a sad boy to crouch behind it – careful not to stain or scuff his suit pants – and use a pocketknife to carve out his name.

He was fortunate maybe that he'd had this epiphany early in the morning when there weren't so many people around. He had to imagine what his standing back there, a grown man, might have looked like. He didn't stay there longer than he had to, and it really didn't take too long. He stood here, and he crouched, and it was like he'd connected the two ends of that memory, from the boy to the man, and he'd found the spot, the letters. He also remembered how he'd briefly considered just doing his initials. LF, or LTF even. But he carved out the five letters of his first name, because that was what he felt he had to do. He had to leave his mark on the world, for his grandmother.

When he'd taken Maya to the ranch and he'd found that one carving on the porch of his grandmother's old home, now Juliet's home, he'd pointed out how he was vaguely recalling his doing this in other locations, that he didn't really remember them. He'd promised, maybe as a joke and maybe not, that he would find them again and show her. This didn't feel like the sort of trip they needed to make in any way aligned with the whimsy of that promise. Instead, Lucas took a picture of the carving and moved back to sit in his car. There, he attached the picture to a message he sent his wife.

He told her about all of it, about seeing the building and needing to stop, struck as he was by the memory. He told her about that day, with the smells, and the stiff suit, the tight collar. He told her about sitting there with his father, and the tears. Eventually, they'd needed to go back inside. They had to stand by Melinda, by her brother, too. His father had asked him if he needed one more minute and he'd nodded.

"One minute," his father had reminded him, and Lucas had nodded again. He'd watched him go, walking back into the building, watched until he was properly gone. He'd had the thought then, and he hadn't given it a second before rising and moving to the back of the bench. He told her about carving the letters and finally rising again, feeling… not relief, not exactly. He still missed his grandmother terribly, and this wouldn't change it, but… for that day, he supposed he felt better than before. Possibly, it had to do with the fact that he'd gotten some air, and that his collar had been loosened. He remembered how he'd closed it up again, for his mother's sake. It didn't feel so tight as before, so maybe that went to the tears he'd been holding in earlier. He'd gone back into the funeral home, and he'd stayed with his mother the rest of the time they spent there.

Lucas: I know if anyone had caught me doing that to the bench, my parents would have lost it, and no amount of sympathy would have spared me. But back then it felt like the thing to do, and honestly, I don't regret it.

Maya: I'm really glad you found that place again.

Lucas: Yeah, me too.

Maya: You're heading to the ranch now?

Lucas: Yes.

Maya: I'll meet you there. Just need to get myself and Marianne dressed to go.

Lucas smiled. She felt he needed to see her… She was right, or at least he knew he would feel better for seeing her. He wasn't exactly rattled by all this, but it was hard not to feel like the memories were louder, larger in him just now, and they needed space to go. She would be there, her and their girl, and she would make way for them.

When he reached Sullivan Stables, he felt that pulse of memories he'd often feel when he passed the archway. He ran into Juliet on his way to the doctor's office and he ended up sharing his morning adventures with its short delays. He told her about the funeral home, and the bench. He showed her the picture, and she had such a smile as to suggest she'd long been aware of the carving on her porch. She also shared her own memories of that day, of seeing him out there on the bench when she'd stared out the window at some point.

"I wanted to go out there and talk with you, felt like I owed it to your grandma, but if I remember correctly, you didn't like me very much back then."

"I…" Lucas frowned, like surely that couldn't be right, but then when he'd think about it…

"Hey, it's alright, I never felt bad about it," Juliet laughed, clapping him on the shoulder. "You were young, and grieving, and I was taking her place." He wanted to tell her that it wasn't like that, but then wasn't it? Back then, at least… "We're alright now, you and me, and that's what matters, isn't it?"

"It's what she would have wanted," Lucas nodded.

"She was really something, your grandma. Been gone all this time, and to all of us who loved her, she still feels so present, doesn't she? She's never left us."

The words settled in his heart and mind like a most absolute truth. His grandmother was as close to him now as she'd been then, like he only needed to reach out, and her hand would be there for him to hold.

TO BE CONTINUED

See you tomorrow! - mooners