Chapter 6

Mr. Jeff drove me to the showing on the tenth.

I grew up in Cornwall, New York, just fifty miles from New York City. It has a population of about 12,000 and it has beautiful landscape. I lived in a two-story house that was the most picturesque home you could imagine, on Kersey Street. My parents still live there. My mom's parents lived down the street from us, six houses down. Around the corner on Chicago my Aunt Carol and Uncle Dave lived in their house with my cousins Mike and Molly. Then if you jump two blocks over my dad's parents live in their house. Then a block over from them is where my aunt Carmen lived, with my uncle Hank and my cousins Erika, Drake, and Eileen. We all lived so close to each other and my cousins and I would always walk home from school, go to one of our relatives' houses. I had a rush of nostalgia overcome me as I looked out the window, seeing the streets I grew up on.

We pulled up to the funeral home and he parked the car.

"I could've taken the train," I told him.

"I wanted to drive you, Em," he said. He grabbed my hand and asked, "Ready to go in there?"

I nodded and we got out of the car, walking into the building. My family was there, greeting guests and talking, fake smiles on their faces. Mom came over to me and hugged me, smiling but her eyes were still watery. "Hi Emerson," she said.

"Hi Mom," I said, trying to stay calm, hugging her. "This is Lafayette Jeff, my boss."

"Oh hi," she greeted, and if we were in a different situation she'd be bewildered to meet a famous person. "It was nice of you to drive him here and to come here."

"It wasn't a problem, ma'am," he said. He put an arm around me, resting his hand on my shoulder. "Emerson is a very wonderful friend of mine, it's the least I could do."

She smiled tightly and said, "Oh well I hope you can take care of him."

"I can do that, Mrs. Lane."

She thanked him and then looked to me and said, "Have you gone up to the casket yet?"

"No, not yet Mom."

"It doesn't look like her. It really doesn't. You can go up there later, after the majority leave."

I nodded, swallowing the lump in my throat. I was in a haze the entire showing. It was surreal and different. I had never been to any type of funeral or anything. I had lost a friend before but didn't go to the funeral and blocked that out of my mind for most of my life, when I was a kid and could do that. I sat in the parlor with Mr. Jeff, my cousins occasionally coming by to sit with me and to talk with me, talking about the good memories we've had. It was insane. I thought about the times I had with Aunt Carmen and how back then, like at the 4th of July parade, none of us knew she wouldn't be here in a few months. What about in a few months? Would I not see my dad on his birthday in February? Would I not see Mom this time next year? It was something I always avoided thinking about. I'd watch TV or movies or read books and people would lose a loved one, their father or mother would pass away and the thought of that would enter my mind but I'd immediately get it out and think about something else. I hated imagining that, that my parents or loved ones wouldn't be there anymore. It was terrifying.

"You still love your parents right?" I asked him, quietly, looking out the window behind the couch we were sitting on.

"Well," he sighed. "I do. I just wish things would change. We've had good memories, but I just wish there were more of those than bad memories."

"I'm glad you say you still love them. There are lots of people who say they don't love their parents or their siblings but once their parents or siblings pass away then they realize that they actually do love them. They fight and then one passes away and they wish they could've said I love you just one more time. I'd hate to see something like that happen to you." I sighed, rubbing my temples. "I'm glad my family and I tell each other we love each other often. Usually when we say goodbye we say we love each other. That was the last thing I said to Aunt Carmen. It was earlier in September. We had some barbeque thing going on during Labor Day weekend at my parents' house and once everyone was leaving I told her goodbye. Since I live in the city I don't see them that much. I talk to my parents and they tell the rest of my family what I've been up to. I wish I went home and visited more."

"If you ever want to take the time to visit your family you can, Em."

I nodded, not being able to swallow the lump in my throat that time so some tears flowed down my cheeks, my breath shaky. He moved closer to me and put an arm around me, pulling me to him, letting me rest my head on his chest. I closed my eyes, just wanting this feeling to stop.

Later on in the day, when the majority of people had come and gone, I stood up with my cousins Mike and Molly because we hadn't gone up to the casket yet. Mr. Jeff stayed back, letting the family go up as we looked at my aunt in the casket, and it really didn't look like her. I sobbed, because I missed her and I was afraid of who could be next in the family. We let my uncle and his kids tend to the casket. I walked back outside and Mr. Jeff was waiting by the car.

"Thank you for coming," my mom told him.

"Not a problem," he said kindly. He looked to me and asked, "Do you need me to stay in town with you, Em? To give you a ride back to the city when you're ready?"

"No, you don't need to. I can take the train back and you can always pick me up at the station."

"Alright. You can come back whenever you're ready to."

I nodded at him, feeling grateful my boss was so caring. He called me his friend earlier. That meant something, but at the time I couldn't appreciate it. It was only later when I realized how we were getting closer to each other, which made me thankful.

"Thanks for watching over him," Dad said, and then led Mom to the car.

"Thanks for coming," I told him. We stood there silently in the cold air, him looking at me caringly and me looking at the ground, emotional. "Do you really consider me a wonderful friend?"

He nodded. "Of course I do."

We hugged tightly. I didn't want to leave his arms. Suddenly, it was much more than physical longing.. I got a ride from Mom and Dad to the house. We all went to sleep, or at least tried to. Even with sleeping pills it was still difficult to sleep, but eventually it came over me. The next day was an emotional one. We arrived at the funeral home again and my aunt Coreena read a beautiful eulogy. After, the family went up to the casket and my uncle Hank closed the casket slowly, looking at his beloved wife. He turned around and I could never forget the look on his face as he sobbed, the torment and the sadness cascading over him. That's when we all sobbed, too, the casket shutting making it more real, bringing us to the fact that she was gone. We drove in the funeral procession to the a graveyard on the edge of town. She was buried, and I couldn't get my cousin Drake's sobs out of my head as he walked away from the casket, the sobs so loud in the quiet afternoon . After, we went to Aunt Carmen's house where food was set up. We ate and got in a better mood. My family was pretty religious, and although I wasn't sure about religion or thought about, it was comforting to them to think that she was in Heaven. I wasn't sure if there was a Heaven, but I think for myself I'd believe in it. It was comforting to know.

I stayed the night at my parents house again, but I couldn't really sleep. I thought about how this experience brought us even closer than we were before. In the wake of a tragedy, it can really bring people together, like with Mr. Jeff and I. He hadn't called me his friend before and I hadn't hugged him before all this. I guess when you see someone you know crying over a loved one, you get to see them in a different light and I don't know if Mr. Jeff has ever lost someone, but he probably has and he can probably relate. It's interesting. Tragedies can bring you closer. It reminds me of the time my aunt said "the best can come from the worst." She had been talking about my uncle and her and how they got together. He had moved to Cornwall because his father had passed away, but if his father had never passed away he would "never have met the most beautiful woman in the world," as he had said before. I've always been close to my family, but now we're even closer, more fortified in a way. I don't get how exactly. It's something to do with the fact that we feel the need to be closer in case something like this happens again, or because we've seen each other in vulnerable states. Either way, things were going to be okay. With my family, things would always be okay in the end.

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"Hello?"

"Hey."

"Em? What're you doing calling this late?"

"Well, I'm on the train back to the city."

"At midnight?"

"I've always wanted to take the midnight train."

I heard him chuckle. "Alright. When do you plan on arriving?"

"In about fifteen minutes."

"Okay. I'll be there to pick you up."

Fifteen minutes later I was at the train station and saw Mr. Jeff there. He was talking to a small paparazzi group, which made me feel kind of nervous. Is it TMZ? That'd be cool. Maybe I could see myself on their show. Oh my god that would be hilarious.

"Yeah, here he is now," Mr. Jeff said as I approached.

"Hi," I said. "Midnight interviewing huh?"

"Yeah, this is how we roll," said the camera guy.

"You know you're always so much nicer to talk to than other people," said another guy. "You actually, you know, have a conversation."

"Well why not feed into the paparazzi corporation? Harvey did."

"So this is TMZ?"

"Who else would it be?" cheered the camera guy.

"Nice."

"Well it's been nice talking but my assistant is probably tired so we should be going."

"Yeah nice talking!"

"Thanks!"

Mr. Jeff smiled at them and gave a curt nod, waving to the camera as he led me out to his corvette. We got in the car and started away. "So, how about you stay the night at the building tonight?"

I smiled. "I was hoping you'd say that," I confessed. "I really don't want to go back to my apartment, especially alone." Did that sound like flirting? I hope not.

"If you want to stay then you just ask, Em. My place is always open to you. I hardly sleep so the bed is always available." Shoot. I forgot he only had onr bed.

"Well I can sleep on the couch."

"Nonsense. You can sleep in my bed. Like I said, I hardly sleep." What? Was he having huge orgies instead? I'd believe it.

"What're you doing then?"

"Working." He shrugged. "What else? Then half the time I sleep I sleep on the couch. I really like to look out the window at night and there aren't any windows in my home."

"So you really don't mind?"

"No. It's perfectly fine. Somebody can put that bed to use."

I laughed, in immaturity. He smiled and shook his head at me. "Sorry. I know I'm stupid."

"Not stupid. Just...different."

"Don't other people put that bed to use? When you have a date over, you know?"

"It took me forever to let you know I lived there. Do you really think I'd let strangers in there? We just sit on the couch."

"Sit on the couch."

He laughed and shook his head again. "You're quite a character."

We sat in silence for a while in the car, his Janis Joplin CD playing. It was nice to get back into the city actually. I missed the lights and the busyness everywhere. I used to be afraid of the dark and I'd get really anxious. When I was anxious I'd get irrational and so I'd always think there was a demon in my room and they'd posses me. Demons scared the shit out of me. No joke. Being out of control of my body is terrifying to me. I think schizophrenia is terrifying. I mean, hallucinating? That's so freaking scary! Or sometimes when I ride rollercoasters and I can't breath on them then that freaks me out. Possession is scary and I don't think I could ever do drugs. I had some shroom lemonade once in college and it was pretty good. It tasted good and I wasn't tripping, it was just a mellow high. Though when I'm around people and I see that they're awake and fine then it freaks me out less, and that's why I like the city. I can hear people being awake. It calms me down and makes me rational. If I'm scared, I'm irrational and that makes me anxious and I get panic attacks. So sleeping in my apartment, across from a bar, is pretty nice. I can sleep with any noises coming from people.

"Can I ask you something?" I asked quietly.

I think he could tell what I was about to ask him, so he took a minute and then nodded.

"Why are you so private? You don't have a cell phone. You let everyone think you live in a house. You don't have to answer, it's just, you know, I'm your assistant. You trusted me with knowing where you live. You can trust me with anything...Lafayette." I finally called him by his first name, an intimate gesture in an intimate situation.

"Yeah, Michael said you'd learn in good time, but I suppose now is the time." He sighed and didn't say until we got to the building. Everyone was gone of course. We went up to his living area and he switched on a light. He handed me the same pair of black pajama pants but with the matching shirt this time. I felt so awkward because I really didn't like wearing my underwear when I went to bed. Or I wore my underwear but no pants. One or the other but not both at the same time. Then I wasn't a fan of shirts either, or if I wore them then I'd leave them unbuttoned. Sure, I slept in my dress shirts and pants at work during the day, but I didn't prefer it. If I'm tired then I can fall asleep no matter what, but I like to actually be comfortable in my sleep. So I left my shirt unbuttoned, the silk feeling so nice against my skin. I should buy some silk pajamas. Hell, he'll probably just give these to me. Or otherwise he'll buy me some silk shorts and make me sleep here more.

"You can sit down," he said, walking over to the bar next to the kitchen area. He poured two glasses of Moet and Chandon and walked over to me, handing me a glass and joined me on the couch. "Em, remember what I said about how people have accused me of being a criminal?"

"Yeah..." I said.

"Well, in a way I am."

"Oh."

"It's not like I murdered anyone Em," he said reassuringly. "But I have been in mafia-like actions. These 'associates' I visit are clients of mine. My company does many different things, and I do many different things as well. They need a favor, I can do it, and they pay me."

"What type of favors?" I asked, kind of nervous to know what kind.

"Well, they need something smuggled in and I can do that because of Lafayette Shipping."

"So, drug dealing?"

He hated to say it, but he said, "Sometimes. Only some associates want that. It's very easy to ship some of that in on my ships. We have compartments only a handful of people know about. That's probably the worst favor I do for people. I don't do any of those drugs but I supply them occasionally. If I find out an associate is abusing their power or murdering people then I cut them off"

"What are some other favors?"

"Uh, Mr. Johnson needed a way to divorce his wife without her taking everything, so we made it possible for him to keep what he's worked for. She was a gold digger and he worked hard for his money."

"What did you do to her?"

"We blackmailed her. She had been doing illegal things and so we told her to divorce him without a dime or else she'd go to jail."

"Oh..."

"Yeah. That's what I do. In fact, I do that more than anything. I do favors for people. When I'm here, it's more for my underground work than my company. If my company were to crumble, then I'd still be a millionaire. These people are willing to pay me millions of dollars just to do these things for them. I put all of that money into savings. Then the money I make with the company I use. I buy things, I donate, I pay bills. I do make more from the company of course but I still make millions doing my underground work. I just save it in case."

"Okay. So nobody has ever died because of you have they?"

"No. I won't get involved in that. People have been hit before. You know, hit men, but no one has died. I've set myself up in ways that if I ever get caught I can hopefully pay people off. In previous lawsuits I did pay people off. Not only that, but I easily covered my tracks and I always had an alibi." He looked at me then, pausing.

"Donald?" I asked.

He nodded. "I am never there when something happens. When Mr. Johnson's wife was being blackmailed, I never met her. I have employees doing it for me. I never discuss a plan over the phone. I always meet them in person. I take serious matters into this. Donald always had an alibi for me. During the lawsuit where they accused me paying off cops during one of my client's arrest, Donald said I was working at the office all day. There are absolutely no cameras in here or in my office. No one knows this room exists. If anyone is to ever ask then I will say it's a bathroom. If they ask me what room is past the first room then I say it's my office and it is. During the lawsuit, they showed a footage of me. I entered the building and they saw me enter the office. I went into my office and I was there for the entire day. In this room, I have another elevator that takes me all the way down to my private garage that has no cameras. I get in my car and drive out of an exit two blocks away from a place that doesn't have any cameras. Everything I do, I do it so that I have a clean slate. And if someone thinks they're going to rat me out, my employees chat with them and they think again. That's what Emilio does. When he said he does everything else, he does my underground work. He's never there either. He's the one who sends the employees and he's the one who sees if we can do it, make the arrangements. You make the appointments, my clients tell me what they want, Emilio sees if it can work and how to go about it. He's very strategic. He use to get picked on when we were kids and he always knew how to make sure the bullies got what was coming to them. He came from a military family and they taught him how to think and strategize, make plans and so on. Since you're new and you haven't really known about this, and so most of my appointments have been without you. Now you know and now I can let you come with me. So, please, not a word of this goes out to anyone. Alright?"

I nodded, looking into my glass. "One question?"

"What is it?"

"Why do you do this?"

He paused, like no one had ever asked him that before. "I'd like to say it's because of money, but I actually don't know why."

I nodded. "Just as long as you don't kill people, I can keep it a secret."

He smiled. "Good." He sighed, looking tired.

"If you went to prison, who would take over your company?"

He smirked, devilishly. "Nobody."

"Nobody?"

"Nope. If I go down, the entire company goes down. I would shut it down and close every single store and everything."

"But so many people would lose their jobs. Then so many companies would have to pump out stores, too."

"Exactly. Emerson, I am probably one of the most powerful people in the world, and a lot don't know that. I am rich, but I'm very powerful. If I go to prison, I'd probably have more power. The government would probably try to make me sell the company or something, but I'd refuse, and they can't do a thing about it. I'd say if they let me go, then the companies can continue. They'd prove my innocence in a botched case, but everyone would know the truth." He smirked still, looking into his glass. "With great power, comes great responsibility." He put the glass to his lips and tilted his head back, drinking it all. "It's only going to grow more, until I die."

"What is?"

"This. This company, and my underground company. My power. Eventually, the government is going to make me do things for them. Once they ask me for something, and it benefits the country or world, I'd do it in a heartbeat for free. Well, free as in no money, but I'd probably throw in that if I ever go to court then I wouldn't go to prison. When I actually think about what's happening in my life, I feel safe, but so often I'm looking out the window for a sharp shooter."

"Are there people really trying to kill you?"

"No. Not yet at least. But this entire building is bullet proof. It's not bomb proof, but I have security in places that no one knows. My cars are bullet proof, too. That's why I can't be in a relationship. If something goes wrong with a client, they could try to kill a loved one. That's one reason why I say I don't like my family. I do love them, and they do annoy the crap out of me, but I say I hate them so no one will kill them. I doubt anyone will ever try to kill me unless they're just one of those crazy murderers, but someday I might not be able to do a favor. That won't happen though. My clients are very civil. They understand that I can have them shot down in a heartbeat, even if I'm dead. If I'm going down, they're going down with me."

"That...that's kind of hot." Did I really just say that? Oh my god. He probably thinks I'm some freaky masochist or something. "I mean, not, you know, I uh-"

He was laughing, a rare occasion. "Thanks Em. It's nice to know that someone thinks my mobster ways are attractive."

"No! I used to watch gangster movies with my dad, like The Godfather and Goodfellas. You know that scene in Goodfellas when Henry hands Karen the gun and Karen says she was kind of turned on by him handing her a gun?"

"So you're turned on by me being a criminal?"

"No! You're so frustrating!" I exclaimed, turning red and turning from him, laughing but feeling mortified.

He laughed and stood up. He took my full glass and drank it, then walked to the sink and set them down in there. He came back over to me and smiled faintly at me. "In all seriousness, Em," he said, making me look at him. "I'm glad I can trust you, and that you're not completely appalled by the fact. It really means a lot to me."

I smiled up at him. "Well," I said. "What're friends for?"

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Click the external link to check out a collection of digital micro-essays titled "An Ode to the Women in My Family Tree"