Chapter Five: And Then There Was
2 April

I open the loft door just as the phone starts going off. I set my things down and wait for the answering machine to pick it up. A panicked voice starts in and I can hear crying in the background,

"Roger? Mark? Are you there...guys please..."

I quickly grab the phone, "Alison? It's Mark."

"Mark is Benny still there?"

Still there?

"I'm sorry Alison, I just got home from work. One minute let me check..."

I set the phone down for a moment to look around, but all I find is a very asleep Roger and Lily.

"Roger...Rog, wake up."

"What?"

"Was Benny here?"

He looks at me, then the clock. "Yeah, about three hours ago."

Shit.

"Why?"

I look at him wearily. "Alison's calling, Benny hasn't come home yet."

He gently takes the sleeping Lily off his lap and after laying her down, goes to the phone,

"Alison? It's Roger, listen to me, he wasn't supossed to make any other stops? Okay, how about you write him a note, tell him to call here when he gets home. Then do you have someone who can drive you here? Okay, bring Thomas too, here to the loft. Okay?"

I spend the next twenty minutes watching Roger pace.

Back and Forth.

Back and Forth.

"Roger, why was Benny here in the first place?"

"He wanted to talk. Apologize..."

He fades as there's a knock at the door.

Alison comes in dishelved holding a sleeping Thomas and rambling faster than either of can comprehend.

"He said he had to...Roger alone...back...Thomas needed...dinner...his...and at eight...had this feeling...left...hasn't called...worried...what if...do you know..."

"Alison, I'm sure everythings okay...just wait here. Mimi will be home soon, but Roger and I are going to go see if made any other stops, and just make sure everythings okay."

I'm not sure I even heard myself.

She nods.

As we head out Roger tells her that Lily is in the back and she can lay Thomas in the crib if she wants, but she clings to her son.

We head out to the street, and I look to Roger, "Where do you think we should start?"

He shrugs and I follow him down the street, past the empty loft, and finally not to far from where the Cat Scratch Club is...

"Fuck!"

I hear Roger's voice first, then I see...

"...We are gathered here together to celebrate the life of Benjamin Coffin the Third...a husband, father, son, and friend..."

It shouldn't be Benny, I can see it everyone's faces. Sure, he was an ass for a while...but nobody deserves this.

Benjamin Isaac Coffin the Third, 25, died on April 2, 1999 on his way home...

"...he had a promising future. I was always proud of my son, and as he got older I could only becom prouder..."

It's like in a movie when you don't think they're going to kill off one of the characters becuase they've already killed off so many others. Life isn't like that.

... He was a successful business man who also explored creative eneavors in his free time...

"...I didn't see it until it was too late; he might have become a business man, but he always held onto the passion he had when I knew him in high school..."

If you look through the papers...at the obituaries..., and see someone who was young it's almost instinctive to look for the why. Sure the papers say if it was a car accident or cancer, but never the attacks by strangers with baseball bats who get adrenaline rushes from watching people suffer.

...A long time resident of the New York area, he leaves behind his father, two younger brothers, sister, wife, year-old son, and numerous friends...

"...He was a loyal friend. You could hate him, but he still loved you..."

I guess on some level you expect everyone to die...it's just the details that catches you by surprise.

...A memorial service will be held on April 4th at 5:00 p.m. with the funeral on April 5th at noon. In lieu of flowers the family asks for donations towards community improvement and medical research...

"...he always believed in investing his time; that with effort you could achieve your dreams in ways the rest of world saw as 'practical'..."

In a moment of philosophical thought too deep for my normal thoght process, maybe the reconciling was some timed, fated thing...on some level he knew...but on the other hand...

...He was loved and will be sorely missed.

Okay on that note.

Just in case you need it; in the 2nd bit with all the formatting the regular was still Mark's commentary, the italics were the people speaking at the funeral (the priest/minister, his father, Roger, Mark, his brother), and the bold was the obituary.

Until next time, this is me...signing out