Chapter 110 - October 26th, 2019 3:45 P.M.

One of my favorite books of all time (Charm & Strange by Stephanie Kuehn) describes precisely how I felt being back at my father’s funeral in its very first sentence, “I don’t feel the presence of God here.” I honestly felt like God had abandoned me during the funeral; if He exists, then why can’t He just talk to us directly? Sometimes, I feel like He’s disappointed in me and doesn’t speak because I am unworthy. Analee told me that God is just mysterious and loves me deep down. I sure hope so because I honestly feel like I’m destined for hell.

Anyways, I did something entirely different this time around; I went through the funeral without going on my phone. I already disrespected my dad once; there was no need to do it again.

“You actually got off that phone of yours,” Grandma Rosie said with a wide smile. She was always on my case about how much I used it. The truth is, I use my phone as a form of escape to avoid thinking about my problems. Cat videos are a fun little time-waster, but when it’s time to sleep, I’m left alone with my thoughts. That’s why I absolutely hate it when I can’t sleep; I spend the entire night thinking over every mistake I’ve ever made. The biggest one I ever made was deciding to play fight with this one kid in a bouncy house. At first, we were having lots of fun despite me chipping one of his teeth; then. Then, I punched him in the face a little too strongly. He crumpled to the ground, and I knew right away that something horrible had happened.

When he finally came to, he didn’t know what had happened or even what his identity was. I gave the poor kid amnesia, and I don’t know if I can ever forgive myself for that. Anyways, I searched for my family and told them everything that had happened. My mother was beyond furious. As for my father, he told me, “Let’s hope they don’t sue us.”

We went back to the kid still in the moon bounce and called emergency services for him. His parents eventually showed up and asked us what had happened to him. I had to come clean and tell them that I had given their son literal brain damage. They were horrified and gave me a look of pure contempt.

Anyways, they didn’t end up suing us or anything crazy like that; we had to pay the boy’s hospital bill, though… I never saw the kid again and wonder to this day about what happened to him. I have so many unanswered questions. Did he ever regain his memory? Did his injury affect his quality of life? Has he forgiven me for what I’ve done if he regained his memory?

I have way too many skeletons in my closet, in all honesty. I’m always afraid someone will find out about my past and ask me all about it. I’ve been asked about my uncle getting arrested before, and it’s not a fun experience.

“I just want to show my dad some respect; it’s the least I could do,” I replied with an artificial smile. I often fake them during stressful situations so no one thinks something is wrong with me.

“He loved you very much, you know…” she said emotionally, looking down at the grass.

“I know; he was the best father I could ever ask for.”

After that, the ceremony, or whatever the hell it’s called, began. My mother was the first speaker, and I gave her speech all of my attention for once. The time before, I kinda zoned out and started reading about spontaneous human combustion. That’s one of my worst fears right there, that I’ll randomly burst into flames and burn to death. I know it sounds crazy and unrealistic, but in this world, anything can happen. After reading about what happened at Khamar Daban in 1993, I fear everything. I swear I’m either anxious, afraid, or paranoid. I try to form connections with people around me, but the more I attempt to, the more alienated from this world I become. I hope that the sun goes out a couple billion years early and kills us all; I’ll be gleefully counting down those last eight minutes. Now that’s what I call the countdown to extinction! Might as well put that Final Countdown song on, too. Anyways, back to my mother’s speech…

“James Harlow Andrews was the greatest husband I could have asked for. I knew he was something special from the moment I met him. You know what was the very present he got me while we were dating?”

“A Harley-Davidson!” I yelled out. Specifically, it was a 1997 Heritage Softail Classic. Unfortunately, the stupid thing ended up breaking after only three years because it already had 100,000 miles on it. My dad later found out that they arrested the guy who sold him the motorcycle for drug dealing and that he was a member of Hells Angels. I guess he knew deep down that he was running out of time… I wonder what he would have thought of that awful Ride to Hell: Retribution game; it’s easily the worst game I’ve ever played in my life. I’m not saying that Big Rigs: Over the Road Racing is good or anything, but at least it wasn’t a pain to play. You’re winner!

“Yes, he spent everything he earned just to make me smile. James always thought about others before himself and was the most selfless man I ever met. There will never be another person like him, and I will forever treasure the memories we had together. I remember once, as an early birthday present, he took me to see Nine Inch Nails in concert; my parents would have killed me if they knew,” she said, breaking character and laughing like mad at the last part. I like it when my mother laughs because she was hardly ever in a good mood after my father’s death. She sorta became a recluse after that, rarely ever leaving her room and constantly polishing all the framed photographs of our family. This one photograph in her room especially stands out to me; it was of when my father and I went fishing when I was around nine. He took me fishing at around six A.M., so I was unsurprisingly quite sleepy. I ended up falling asleep because no fish were biting, and when I woke up, my bait had been eaten. My dad took a photograph of my embarrassed expression, and it was hilarious.

There’s also this one cursed photograph of my dad reading Old Yeller aloud to me; that book ruined my childhood… He also thought it was a great idea to show me Watership Down as a kid. I know part of my family is from England and all, but I’d rather stay away from that nightmare. I researched our family history and found that my ancestors were descended from Stratford-upon-Avon. If I remember correctly, Shakespeare was born there. I was never a fan of his, although I do love Hamlet. Hamlet was like the original Holden Caulfield if you think about it. To be, or not to be? I ask myself that every day…

“James was not a perfect man, and that’s exactly what I loved about him. How boring would it be if people were perfect? He taught me what it means to be truly happy; he completed me like a puzzle. There are not enough words to describe what he meant to me, so I won’t attempt to. I just want the world to know that I loved him more than myself. Thank you,” my mother said, getting up off the platform.

Uncle Dante was the next one to speak. Usually, he dropped about twenty-six f-bombs a minute whenever giving a speech. Thankfully, he actually tried to talk like a civilized human being when up at the podium. Despite all the animosity that I held towards him about what he did to Grace and me in the past, I prayed that I wouldn’t lose him next. I love my uncle despite all of his flaws; nobody ever claimed that love was simple.

“I knew that death would come someday, but I never thought it would be so soon. James was like a brother to me; he always wanted to help everyone in any way he could. I remember having a strenuous day and him asking what was wrong. After I told him, he invited me to see Saving Private Ryan with him in the theaters. Oh, what an experience that was… A good movie can make you forget all your troubles. He was always doing more than what was asked of him, and he rarely, if ever, complained. I look up to him, and if there is a heaven, I hope that I get to meet him again. That is all,” he nearly choked out.

His sincere showing of emotions surprised me. I agreed with him; a good movie is the best antidepressant. A film that always helps me when I feel crappy is Gattaca. I don’t want to explain it for fear of spoiling the plot, but it’s one of the greatest and most underrated films ever made. It stars Uma Thurman, one of my favorite actresses; you probably don’t know her. She starred in an obscure film called Pulp Fiction. I hope you caught that sarcasm; sometimes I’m sarcastic, but people think I’m being dead serious, causing them to see me as mentally insane. I can’t be crazy because I’m aware of my insanity, which means I’m quite sane.

After Uncle Dante went, my grandmother turned to me and told me that I should give a speech as well. The only problem was I hadn’t written one. This meant I’d have to wing it. I’m terrible at improvisation; I always end up repeating the same thing in about five different ways. Thankfully, you don’t have access to my high school essays; they were some of the most pretentious pieces of crap ever written. I’d pad out my writing by explaining how the topic relates to another vaguely related topic while using as many words as humanly possible. My papers were so verbose you would have thought you were reading Infinite Jest. I don’t know if it’s just me who was confused after reading the book; David Foster Wallace talks about many vague things. I still love the guy, though; I wish I could have played him in tennis. My other wish that I’ll unfortunately never get is to meet Nietzsche and have a philosophical discussion with him. He’s my favorite philosopher, and his book Beyond Good and Evil is breathtaking. His best quote, in my opinion, is, “Whoever fights monsters should see to it that in the process he does not become a monster. And if you gaze long enough into an abyss, the abyss will gaze back into you.” Isn’t that just the most badass quote ever? He had a fascinating life. The guy straight up lost his sanity at the end…

I gave a speech; I knew that I’d regret it if I didn’t. That’s the thing; sometimes, we as people have to do something even if we’re not good at it, not because we want to but because it’s the right thing to do. The right choice is hardly ever the easy one.

I nervously walked up to the podium and felt like crawling into a ball when everyone stared at me. Public speaking has always been difficult for me; I get all anxious and shaky like a tweaker. I even feel physically sick in my stomach, like I’m a minute away from puking my guts out.

“My dad used to say that if you didn’t live every day of your life the best that you possibly could that you were wasting it. That’s what I loved about him; he always cared about the well-being of others and wanted them to experience true happiness. I won’t lie and say that I followed his advice very well, but it still affected me. I remember once I was having a horrible nightmare and asked my dad if I could sleep with him that night. He told me he had an even better idea, and we watched the classic Dr. Who series for the rest of the night. We pretended that he was a Dalek, and he would chase me around the house yelling exterminate. One day, I ran away from him and hit my forehead on the door so hard it started bleeding. We had to get three stitches for it, but I still remember how my father held my hand the entire time, reassuring me that I would be alright. I… I wish you were here,” I said, breaking down into tears at the end.

That was when I began hearing the same rushing sound from when I got transported to 1957 Daytona Beach. Through gritted teeth, I told everyone, “Well, looks like my time just ran out.”

Before I realized it, I was in Uncle Dante’s house. There was only one problem: I was a kid again.

And Uncle Dante was drunk.