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------- ------- ------- ------- ------- Morris parked behind an old Volvo with a “Save Tibet” bumper sticker. The door to the chapel was open, and people were going in. He sat for a minute, uncertain what he was doing here, before he got out of his car and followed them. Inside, two dozen elderly people were noisily pushing chairs into a circle. ------- He was about to turn around and leave when a hard-eyed little woman grasped his sleeve. “I’m Martha,” she said. “We usually have a speaker, but today we’re discussing Life after Death. What’s your name?” ------- “Morris Lerner.” ------- “Nice to meet you, Morris. This is Harry.” ------- A tall, slim man offered his hand. “You look like Henry James, Morris.” ------- “Not everyone notices,” Morris said. -------“Let’s get started,” a large woman bellowed. -------“Sue’s our president,” Martha whispered. They sat down on creaky wooden slatted chairs. ------- “Are there any guests this morning?” Sue eyed Morris. “Would you stand up and tell us about yourself, please?” ------- Morris stood. “Morris Lerner,” he said. “I’m retired. Just moved to Eastham. I’ve been to Unitarian churches a few times.” ------- “We’re not a church,” Sue said. “We’re a Fellowship. We don’t have a minister.” ------- “We’re humanists,” someone said. ------- “Whatever that means,” Harry added. ------- Morris glanced around the crowded room. They were all older than he except one young couple and an intense bearded man in work boots and overalls. ------- “Announcements?” Sue asked. “Ollie?” ------- “William’s in the hospital.” Ollie was a round man in his seventies. “It’s his heart again. He should be out by the end of the week.” ------- There was a swell of sympathetic murmuring, and a woman said the Caring Committee would send flowers. ------- “William likes blue,” Ollie offered. ------- Others made announcements about the annual town meeting, a semi-nude peace vigil, and an amateur night in support of gay rights. ------- A very old man rose stiffly from his chair and began to sing what sounded like a Gaelic drinking song. When he finished, he reminded everyone that he was selling food certificates to help the homeless. ------- “If there are no more announcements,” Sue said, “Harry’s in charge of today’s program.” ------- Harry stood up. “Is there life after death? Most people would like to think so. My father said you got what you expected, heaven, hell, or sweet oblivion. Why don’t we just go around the room. Can we start with you, Jean?” ------- “If anyone deserves another life I do,” Jean said, “but I’m pretty sure we switch off like a flashlight.” -------Opinions ranged from a conventional Heaven, though not Hell Morris noticed, to dissolutions in varying shades of bleakness. They spoke of reincarnation, of the memory of friends, and of the reverberations of our earthly lives. -------Harry was good, and it seemed to Morris that everyone thought before they spoke. Most people just hung onto the first belief they tripped over. Two men took a pass. -------“They were in the war,” Martha whispered. “They had to kill people.” -------Morris spoke last: “I saw a bumper sticker a long time ago. ‘Is there Life Before Death?’ I’m still working on that one.” ------- “Hear, hear!” Harry was pleased. ------- “That’s not very comforting,” a woman said. ------- “You want comfort, Ilene,” Harry said, “you could bury your pretty head in the sand.” ------- “It’s time for refreshments,” Sue announced. ------- -------“You play Scrabble?” Morris and Harry were drinking coffee and eating pickled herring. -------“I’ve played it,” Morris said, trying to remember when. ------- “William, George, and I get together once a month,” Harry said, “usually at my place. It’s an excuse to drink beer. Want to come?” ------- “Sure,” Morris said. ------- “What do you think of the Fellowship?” ------- “Interesting,” Morris said. ------- Harry nodded. “Some people don’t deal well with death.” ------- “I’ve never found it to be a problem,” Morris said. ------- “Yeah? You an undertaker, Morris?” ------- “Troubleshooter,” Morris said. “You?” ------- “Government work,” Harry said. “If I told you, I’d have to kill you.” He laughed. ------- Morris nodded and smiled. ------- ------- THE GAME ------- ------- The clam shell driveway crunched under Morris’s tires. The forest loomed beyond the reach of his headlights, and he smelled wood smoke from Harry’s stove. Morris, George, and William all had big houses. Harry lived with a thousand books and hundreds of classical CD’s in a beach cottage at the far end of a sand road ------- Morris savored the darkness and the sound of wind in the pines for a moment. Then he began to pick his way up the icy walk. It was snowing. ------- “Look what blew in!” Harry called, as Morris stamped the snow off his feet. ------- “Hey, Harry. Hi, George.” ------- “There’s Goldkreutzer in the fridge,” Harry said. The kitchen table was crowded with bowls of salted nuts and plates of cheese and smoked fish. A Brahms trio was softly playing in the background. -------“Is William coming?” Morris asked. ------- “I think so. Hope he takes it easy in this weather.” -------A moment later they heard a low chirp, and a tiny red light blinked on a metal box beside the door. -------When William came into the house a few minutes later he hung his alpaca coat on a peg. He grunted a hello and went straight to the refrigerator for a bottle of beer. He settled himself into the largest and most comfortable chair. At eighty-seven, William was a testimonial to living well. ------- “What’s the word on the Beeman tract?” Morris asked him. ------- “Tied up in the courts. With any luck none of us will live to see it built. How you doing, Harry?” ------- “Could be worse, old man.” -------They were in no hurry to get started. George had worked for an overseas consulting firm and had a million stories to tell. William called himself the gay financier and liked to talk about the market. Harry had done something for the Federal government. -------“Want to hear a tape of a Palestinian comic?” Harry asked. ------- “Will I be offended?” ------- “No, Morris,” Harry said. “He’s married to a Jew.” -------The comic sounded like an American. He told good-natured stories about life under the Israeli Occupation. The interviewer asked if there was a typically Palestinian joke, and the comic told about Arafat and his wife kissing on the beach. A cop gave them both tickets, and Arafat asked why his wife’s fine was bigger. “Yours is a first offence,” the cop explained. -------Morris laughed politely. -------“Is there a typical Jewish joke?” Harry asked. -------“Sure,” Morris said. “Isaac and Anna are chopping firewood on a cold morning, and Anna says she feels sick. Isaac says, ‘I’ll take you to the doctor as soon as we’re done.’ They finish chopping the wood, Isaac hitches the horse to the wagon, and they start for town. It’s begun to snow. They talk about their life together, and finally they ride in silence. After a while Isaac looks over at his wife and says, ‘Anna, why isn’t the snow melting on your face?’” ------- No one laughed. -------“That’s a joke?” Harry asked. ------- “Sort of,” Morris said. -------They played Scrabble for the thrill of killer points and for the words themselves. A word like clone might start a conversation that went on all evening. -------“What was that?” William asked, looking toward the window. -------“Raccoons,” Harry said. “Checking my garbage can, but they can’t get in. You’d think they’d learn.” -------Morris excused himself halfway through the third game after putting down a word. It was ten minutes before it was his turn again. -------“You fall in, Morrie?” Harry called out. The toilet flushed, and Morris came back. -------Morris won the game. They played two more. -------“’Perdure’?” George said doubtfully. -------“Means ’survive’,” Morris said. -------“I’ll take your word for it,” George said. “Thirty-six points!” -------They stopped for the evening at the end of the game. It was still snowing lightly. George and William thanked Harry and left. -------Morris stood at the window. “Something out there,” he said. -------He put on his hat and gloves and went outside, leaving the door ajar. He was back in less than a minute. -------“You better see this.” -------“What?” -------“Just come.” -------Morris led Harry to the body of a man, curled up on the ground near the edge of the woods. -------“Shot in the back of the head,” Morris said. “Gun in his hand wasn’t fired.” Morris stroked his chin. “How do you want to handle this, Harry?” -------“I don’t know, Morris. You better go home, it’s my problem.” -------“Not entirely,” Morris said. “Got a plastic sheet?” -------Harry helped Morris wrap the body and stuff it into Morris’s trunk. -------“You sure you want to do this?” -------Morris shrugged. “We have to find his car.” ------- -------After the dead man and his rental car had been disposed of at a safe distance, Morris dropped Harry back at his house. -------Morris drove off, and Harry went inside for a flashlight. He studied the area behind the house where snow had nearly covered Morris’s footprints from the garage and into the woods. Harry went inside again and hung up his coat. He thought about the foot prints. He stood at the card table and studied the Scrabble board. Perdure. ------- |