29-03-2025, 03:22 PM
All three of the men nodded their agreement and knew I was right. But before the Hammadi kid disappeared I wanted to have a word with him. Pete Sturgeon escorted me back to the command center where Jaffar Hammadi sat in the back of the cruiser. Since he was cuffed and shackled, I wasn't worried about him trying to get the jump on me. I opened the door and leaned in to talk to him.
"You know, I would have thought your family suffered enough," I said, as calmly as I could. "What did you think you were going to try to prove by killing me and my family?"
"I never planned to kill you, Sheriff. Just your family."
"Really? And what did my family do to deserve that?"
"What did my family do, Sheriff? My brothers? My sister? My family are the ones who have lost, Sheriff! You have lost nothing!"
"That's not true. Tristan and Miriam were friends of mine."
"HER NAME...WAS NOT...MIRIAM!!" he screamed.
"She had it legally changed. That was how I knew her."
"HER NAME WAS NAZEEM! THAT WAS HOW MY FAMILY KNEW HER!!"
"I can understand your anger towards Tristan. Why me and my family?"
"Because you allowed it, Sheriff!"
"Tristan and Mir-...I mean...Nazeem were free to do as they wished."
"Nazeem should have known her responsibility to her family and her faith! You allowed this to happen, Sheriff, by accepting them and by not stopping them!"
"Doesn't it mean anything to you that Tristan loved your sister?"
"No! Her responsibility was to her family! Not Tristan!"
I decided to just stop. I was going to get absolutely nowhere with him. All I could do was just thank God that he hadn't been able to get anywhere near Shannon, Bridget or my boys. And even though Clarissa was my ex and we weren't exactly on the best of terms, I whispered a silent prayer that he hadn't gotten near her, either.
I asked myself for the umpteenth what the hell I had been thinking when I decided not to tell Shannon about the phone calls and texts. On the other hand, how in the hell could I have really protected her? The more I wrestled with the whole situation, the more helpless I felt that I had any real chance to stop it. In the end, the raid on the Hammadi's house and the ---c Center felt like nothing more than pure, dumb luck.
But what the hell? Even a busted clock is right twice a day, right?
*****
I holed up in the office the next day and told Karen Landingham to hold all of my calls. The phone lines had absolutely been blowing up and I took only the calls I had to. The best thing would be to hold a press conference and I would have to figure out a time to do it as well as figure out what information we felt comfortable enough to release. I felt shitty but I even avoided several calls from Shannon; instead, opting to send her a text to let her know I was okay and that I was insanely busy and would call if and when I could get a free minute.
Truthfully, there wasn't much for me to do. Both Salah Udi Pradesh and Jaffar Hammadi were in custody. While Jaffar was facing nothing short of a laundry list of potential charges, everyone was flummoxed when it came to trying to figure out what the hell to do with Pradesh. According to him, he had just been looking for Jaffar to try and talk him out of doing something stupid. Why he hadn't been able to find him at the ---c Center was simply a matter of his word against the evidence. Surely he would have looked for him at the center but, if he had, how could have missed all of the explosives.
According to Special Agent Cooper, Pradesh would most likely have his work visa and permanent resident alien status revoked. He would, in a real way, be declared persona non grata and be quietly placed on the no-fly list after being given a one-way trip back to Pakistan. Oddly, I actually felt kind of sorry for Pradesh. Truthfully, as I saw it, he didn't really seem to have done anything wrong, save for failing to tell us that Jaffar was back in town. But, at that time, Jaffar didn't have any warrants out for him and Pradesh had no way of knowing how much trouble Jaffar was getting himself into.
I waited until 4:30 that afternoon before attempting to quietly duck out of the courthouse building. I had again, against protocol, parked my personal vehicle in the building's antiquated Sally Port to keep eyes off of me. I drove the short distance to Bachmann-Overgaard Funeral Home for Margolene Roberts's wake. I signed the guest book and followed the long line to her casket.
Having seen pictures of Margolene in her younger years, she had been an absolute stunner. Even though she was 20 to 30 years older during most of the time I had known her and 40 to 50 pounds heavier, I had always thought she was a beautiful and remarkable woman. She lay there in the casket with a serene look on her face, her head still wrapped in an ornate scarf to mask the signs that the cancer and chemo had placed on her. Margolene's face almost wore a look of forgiveness for every injury and injustice Bud Roberts had ever done to her. Or maybe it was a look of relief that her time with him had finally come to an end and she could be free to look for and spend time with an eternal soulmate of her own in Heaven or the cosmos or wherever what's left of us resides when our time on earth comes to an end.
I just sort of mingled with some of the members of my department in a side room off the main chapel where Margolene's remains were and away from Bud's family. I just didn't have the confidence I could compose myself in front of Bud, especially when I wasn't sure where I stood with Shannon right now.
I never heard her come up behind me but somehow began to sense her presence. I was just about to turn around and look for her when her hand suddenly and silently slid into my own. When I finally saw her, my heart very nearly shot out of my chest. She wore a very simple and understated black dress that could have been just as appropriate at a 5-star restaurant as it was at a funeral.
"Hey," she cooed.
"Hey, yourself."
She let go of my hand and we just fell into one another for the first hug we had shared in almost a week. Her skin felt so good and every last inch of her smelled amazing and I realized how much I had missed her. My eyes were suddenly opened and I knew I had to get my shit together or I was in serious danger of losing this amazing woman forever. I had known from the start that I was in over my head and she was way out of my league from the first moment we got together.
We said very little to each other the rest of the time we were there but just having her hold my hand gave me the courage to converse with Bud Roberts and his family. We ended up visiting with all of Bud's kids for almost an hour. Bud held his place in the receiving line, greeting a steady stream of mourners and doing his very best to look and play the part of the grieving husband. It made me sick but I had to remind myself that his kids and grandchildren still loved him. And, most probably, Margolene did, too, right up until the day she died.
Shannon and I finally made our way out of the funeral home.
"So, where are you parked?" I asked.
"Nowhere," she replied. "Dad dropped me off."
"Do you need a ride somewhere?"
"Yes. I need you to take me home. With you. Where I belong. All my stuff is in your truck."
We said little walking the block-and-a-half to my truck. I unlocked her door and helped her inside. I made my way around to the driver's side and started the truck. I sat there with my hands on the wheel and suddenly couldn't even move. I was literally paralyzed as a wave of emotion washed over me and I was on the verge of absolutely losing it. Shannon sensed it, too, and just reached over and took my right hand in hers. I grasped her hand with mine and clutched it, holding it to my lips. As I did, the floodgates opened and months and years of pent up emotion began pouring out of me as I wept in a way I hadn't since I was a child.
"I'm so sorry," I sobbed. "I'm so fucking sorry."
Shannon pulled her hand back and climbed over to just grab me and hold me close to her. I had tried to be the hero for so long and tried to push away my breaking point until I no longer knew where it was and couldn't ask for help - even when I needed it most.
We must have sat there for twenty minutes, with me just sobbing and Shannon comforting me. I didn't even care and neither did she. All I knew was that she was there again when I needed her most. When I finally composed myself I was absolutely physically and emotionally drained. Without a word we silently switched places and Shannon, who actually disliked driving my truck, drove us back out to the farm. Bridget was still at Jack and Suzanne's and the boys were still with Clarissa.
I'd like to be able to say that we engaged in some maddening, passionate, animalistic makeup sex. But we didn't. She simply helped me out of my clothes and into bed and joined me. I was so mentally and physically exhausted that I fell asleep in her arms and neither of us budged for the rest of the night. It was a watershed moment in our relationship as I knew that I could be vulnerable in her presence and know that, when I was weak, Shannon could be strong enough for the both of us. And she knew that I could be that for her. It was a shitty way for me to have to find out - not letting her in on the knowledge that our family was in danger. But I also knew it was a mistake I would never make again.
*****
Shannon took the day off work the next day to be with me for Margolene's funeral. The Episcopal parish in Red River Falls had a fairly sizeable congregation and was quite full with mourners. Lieutenant Amy Van Deekum's honor guard looked stoic, smart and extremely professional as they provided final watch over Margolene. Not all departments did that for family members but we do.
I felt it happening again, even though I wasn't sure why. The rapid heart rate, my breathing picked up and I started sweating profusely. Shannon sensed it and squeezed my hand harder and leaned in to nuzzle my cheek and give me a few soft kisses on my cheek and whispered in my ear that it was okay. Just her presence, her touch and her scent was thebangutic and I felt myself gradually calming down. I didn't let go of her hand the rest of the service.
Like the rest, we followed the cortege to the cemetery and found a place to park. Two of my deputies had provided escort while the Red River Falls PD provided traffic control. We followed the pallbearers to the open grave and stood hand-in-hand for the graveside service. It lasted for about 15 minutes and we watched as Bud and his family exchanged numerous hugs and handshakes with everyone who attended. I had always been friendly with Bud's children and I wanted to let them know how much I loved and admired their mother, which they appreciated.
We had finally decided to start heading back to my truck when I heard someone call out to me.
"Patrick?" I turned and saw it was none other than Bud Roberts.
"Yes?"
"Uh, well, I was wondering if I could have a word with you," he said. "In private. Only for a few minutes, I promise," he said, smiling at Shannon.
I looked to Shannon, who just half-smiled and said, "I'll wait for you at the truck." I was slightly irritated that she hadn't bailed me out. But I also know that she probably knew better than me that I needed to bury the past once and for all...if not to forgive Bud and Clarissa, then so I could at least get to the point where I didn't give a shit. Shannon gave me a quick kiss and turned to head back towards my vehicle. Bud stood there watching her go, eyes firmly fixed on Shannon's magnificent ass. I couldn't blame him. But it still pissed me off.
"Take a picture. It'll last longer," I said, snapping him out of it.
"Oh, right. Sorry," he said, sheepishly.
I followed Bud to a small sitting bench nestled amongst the headstones and about 50 yards away from the dispersing crowd. I took his lead and had a seat next to him.
"Well," I started, "you wanted to talk. Spill your guts."
"That's kind of why I wanted to talk to you, Patrick. I have a lot I want to say. And after today, I'm afraid I might not get a chance to tell you."
"Okay," I encouraged.
"Patrick, I'm a man who is used to getting what he wants. I've always been that way. If there was something I wanted, I did whatever it took to eliminate everything that stood between me and my goals, understand?"
"Okay, Coach Roberts," I said, sarcastically. "Get to the point."
"Sorry. I know that must sound like a cliché. But it's true. When we were younger Margolene was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen in my entire life."
"She was a beautiful woman up until the day she died, Bud. Not just in her youth. Margolene was one of the most beautiful, genuine and caring people I've ever met," I added.
"Yes, I know. I guess, Patrick, that I've just always been someone who was never able to combine my physical attraction and emotional attraction to someone. My emotional attachment lasted only as long as my physical attraction. I know that probably makes me an asshole in some peoples' eyes. But at least I'm being honest about that."
"Again, what's your point?"
"My point, Patrick, is that I've been unhappy and miserable for a long time. And I want you to understand that my unhappiness is what led me to do what I did with Clarissa. I know that doesn't excuse what I did to you. But I just want you to understand where I was coming from."
"Fine. I understand. May I go now?"
"Patrick, I want you to know that I really did love Margolene at the end. I know it was her illness and all. But when she started losing weight and started to look again like the woman I fell in love with all that time ago."
My eyes narrowed. "Let me see if I understand you correctly, Bud. You're sitting here trying to tell me that you rediscovered your love for the woman who bore you four children after she started losing weight? Weight that she was losing because the scourge of cancer entered her body and started destroying her? You're trying to tell me that you started to feel sexual attraction for your wife for the first time in years only when she was dying of cancer?"
"I know it sounds bad when you put it that way, Patrick. But at first, I thought she was doing it for me. I thought she was losing the weight for me. And it worked. But just when it was starting to go so well, she found the lump in her breast and everything got thrown into chaos. I had always loved her breasts and then they were both surgically removed. The chemo and radiation left her an emaciated, bony, skeletal looking shell of who I had started to fall in love with again. Pretty soon, I was driving her all over to doctor's appointments in Rochester at the Mayo Clinic. But nothing was working."
Fuck! I just shook my head in disbelief. "Bud, why in the fuck are you telling me all of this shit?"
"Patrick, all of this has made me take a hard look at my own mortality. I'm approaching my late 50's now. I know there are probably fewer days ahead than there are behind me and that thought is now scaring me."
"Yeah? And?"
"Patrick, I'm going to ask you something and I know it is going to be hard for you to hear."
"Why am I not surprised by that?" I said, acerbically.
"Patrick, I'm asking you to forgive me. For everything."
"Fine, I forgive you. Can I go now?"
"That's not all, Patrick. I want your forgiveness for everything I did. I also want to ask you for your blessing."
"My blessing? Blessing for what?"
"I...I want...to ask you...for your permission to start seeing Clarissa...again," he stammered.
Pretty sure my jaw dropped. If I stood up too quickly, I would have tripped over it.
"You've gotta be shitting me. Are you fucking kidding me???"
"Patrick, just hear me out, okay?"
"No! No, I won't hear you out! Look over there," I said, pointing towards Margolene's yet-unburied casket. "Your wife isn't even buried in the ground yet and you are asking me to bless her replacement? Jesus Christ! What the fuck is wrong with you, you miserable old bastard?!!"
"Yes, Patrick! I am a miserable old bastard! I've been miserable ever since you forced me to stop seeing Clarissa! Believe it or not, I did and do love her! My wife is gone, Patrick! My children are all grown and gone and have their own lives! I have nothing! No one! And it scares the hell out of me, Patrick! I know it takes a lot of gall for me to ask you this but I'm doing it out of respect for you, Patrick, and because of how sorry I am for everything Clarissa and I did to you.
"I know I have no right to ask this of you, Patrick. I know this is probably the last thing you want to hear and the last thing you ever expected. I also know you have the power to ruin me further if I anger you. I'm just asking you to forgive me and Clarissa enough to let us move on together. You're married again now, Patrick. To an absolutely amazing and beautiful woman. You're so lucky! I just want to experience that again before I'm too old! Please, Patrick! I'm begging you. I don't want to spend the last days of my life alone!"
I was too stunned and shocked to do anything else but just sit back down on that bench. I stared at Margolene's casket. A short distance away, the cemetery crew waited for the last of the mourners to leave before lowering the casket into the metal vault and then sealing it away for eternity. It pained me to know that it was the last time I would see her, or at least her casket. It looked so lonely just sitting there, a gentle breeze flowing and causing ripples amongst the massive pile of flowers that sat atop her casket.
Flowers. Caskets. Death. I remembered a story that was often told about how flowers came to be associated with funerals. It was often said that flowers were used in the days prior to modern embalming techniques when the time between death and burial was necessarily short, given the rate of decay. Flowers, and lots of them, were used to mask the smell of decay, as well as to add some pleasant beauty to the scene to offset the various colors the body would show as the decomposition process took its inevitable and natural course.
Who are we to think that we can add beauty to death? Do we really think embalming, dressing a corpse in pretty clothes, adding makeup and a lot of flowers can truly mask the ugliness behind death and the fact that a human being has said goodbye to everyone and everything they leave behind? How do you dress up the fact that the sum total of a person's life carries on only in those who are left behind? Margolene was lying in that casket right now. The shell of a body she left behind couldn't care less what Bud and I were talking about. I wondered if there was some spirit, some remnant of her essence and intellect that was left behind anywhere that still cared about Bud. Or hated him. Or pitied him. Or felt anything, something for this morally bankrupt sack of shit that sat next to me. The man who dared to ask me for forgiveness for violating my marriage and my wife and made her into a whore. The Catholic in me thought there was something left of her somewhere who still cared. The cynic in me wasn't so sure.
But then I remembered something that Shannon had quoted to me from a book she was reading. I can't for the life of me remember the book or the topic but the phrase had stuck with me for over a year. It said, "True forgiveness means giving up all hope of a better past."
No matter what I did, I couldn't change anything to make what Clarissa and Bud did to me go away. I couldn't change the past to make Clarissa un-fuck Bud Roberts or Marion Lawson or Brad Weston or anyone else she decided to spread her legs for. But the fact to the matter is, it no longer matters. I made a vow yesterday that I would never make the same mistakes with Shannon again. And just moments ago, I had told Bud I would forgive him. And even if I couldn't change it, I realized in that moment that I no longer gave a shit. Bud Roberts would always be Bud Roberts. Forgiving him meant that I had to give up all hope of ever changing him.
"You know, I would have thought your family suffered enough," I said, as calmly as I could. "What did you think you were going to try to prove by killing me and my family?"
"I never planned to kill you, Sheriff. Just your family."
"Really? And what did my family do to deserve that?"
"What did my family do, Sheriff? My brothers? My sister? My family are the ones who have lost, Sheriff! You have lost nothing!"
"That's not true. Tristan and Miriam were friends of mine."
"HER NAME...WAS NOT...MIRIAM!!" he screamed.
"She had it legally changed. That was how I knew her."
"HER NAME WAS NAZEEM! THAT WAS HOW MY FAMILY KNEW HER!!"
"I can understand your anger towards Tristan. Why me and my family?"
"Because you allowed it, Sheriff!"
"Tristan and Mir-...I mean...Nazeem were free to do as they wished."
"Nazeem should have known her responsibility to her family and her faith! You allowed this to happen, Sheriff, by accepting them and by not stopping them!"
"Doesn't it mean anything to you that Tristan loved your sister?"
"No! Her responsibility was to her family! Not Tristan!"
I decided to just stop. I was going to get absolutely nowhere with him. All I could do was just thank God that he hadn't been able to get anywhere near Shannon, Bridget or my boys. And even though Clarissa was my ex and we weren't exactly on the best of terms, I whispered a silent prayer that he hadn't gotten near her, either.
I asked myself for the umpteenth what the hell I had been thinking when I decided not to tell Shannon about the phone calls and texts. On the other hand, how in the hell could I have really protected her? The more I wrestled with the whole situation, the more helpless I felt that I had any real chance to stop it. In the end, the raid on the Hammadi's house and the ---c Center felt like nothing more than pure, dumb luck.
But what the hell? Even a busted clock is right twice a day, right?
*****
I holed up in the office the next day and told Karen Landingham to hold all of my calls. The phone lines had absolutely been blowing up and I took only the calls I had to. The best thing would be to hold a press conference and I would have to figure out a time to do it as well as figure out what information we felt comfortable enough to release. I felt shitty but I even avoided several calls from Shannon; instead, opting to send her a text to let her know I was okay and that I was insanely busy and would call if and when I could get a free minute.
Truthfully, there wasn't much for me to do. Both Salah Udi Pradesh and Jaffar Hammadi were in custody. While Jaffar was facing nothing short of a laundry list of potential charges, everyone was flummoxed when it came to trying to figure out what the hell to do with Pradesh. According to him, he had just been looking for Jaffar to try and talk him out of doing something stupid. Why he hadn't been able to find him at the ---c Center was simply a matter of his word against the evidence. Surely he would have looked for him at the center but, if he had, how could have missed all of the explosives.
According to Special Agent Cooper, Pradesh would most likely have his work visa and permanent resident alien status revoked. He would, in a real way, be declared persona non grata and be quietly placed on the no-fly list after being given a one-way trip back to Pakistan. Oddly, I actually felt kind of sorry for Pradesh. Truthfully, as I saw it, he didn't really seem to have done anything wrong, save for failing to tell us that Jaffar was back in town. But, at that time, Jaffar didn't have any warrants out for him and Pradesh had no way of knowing how much trouble Jaffar was getting himself into.
I waited until 4:30 that afternoon before attempting to quietly duck out of the courthouse building. I had again, against protocol, parked my personal vehicle in the building's antiquated Sally Port to keep eyes off of me. I drove the short distance to Bachmann-Overgaard Funeral Home for Margolene Roberts's wake. I signed the guest book and followed the long line to her casket.
Having seen pictures of Margolene in her younger years, she had been an absolute stunner. Even though she was 20 to 30 years older during most of the time I had known her and 40 to 50 pounds heavier, I had always thought she was a beautiful and remarkable woman. She lay there in the casket with a serene look on her face, her head still wrapped in an ornate scarf to mask the signs that the cancer and chemo had placed on her. Margolene's face almost wore a look of forgiveness for every injury and injustice Bud Roberts had ever done to her. Or maybe it was a look of relief that her time with him had finally come to an end and she could be free to look for and spend time with an eternal soulmate of her own in Heaven or the cosmos or wherever what's left of us resides when our time on earth comes to an end.
I just sort of mingled with some of the members of my department in a side room off the main chapel where Margolene's remains were and away from Bud's family. I just didn't have the confidence I could compose myself in front of Bud, especially when I wasn't sure where I stood with Shannon right now.
I never heard her come up behind me but somehow began to sense her presence. I was just about to turn around and look for her when her hand suddenly and silently slid into my own. When I finally saw her, my heart very nearly shot out of my chest. She wore a very simple and understated black dress that could have been just as appropriate at a 5-star restaurant as it was at a funeral.
"Hey," she cooed.
"Hey, yourself."
She let go of my hand and we just fell into one another for the first hug we had shared in almost a week. Her skin felt so good and every last inch of her smelled amazing and I realized how much I had missed her. My eyes were suddenly opened and I knew I had to get my shit together or I was in serious danger of losing this amazing woman forever. I had known from the start that I was in over my head and she was way out of my league from the first moment we got together.
We said very little to each other the rest of the time we were there but just having her hold my hand gave me the courage to converse with Bud Roberts and his family. We ended up visiting with all of Bud's kids for almost an hour. Bud held his place in the receiving line, greeting a steady stream of mourners and doing his very best to look and play the part of the grieving husband. It made me sick but I had to remind myself that his kids and grandchildren still loved him. And, most probably, Margolene did, too, right up until the day she died.
Shannon and I finally made our way out of the funeral home.
"So, where are you parked?" I asked.
"Nowhere," she replied. "Dad dropped me off."
"Do you need a ride somewhere?"
"Yes. I need you to take me home. With you. Where I belong. All my stuff is in your truck."
We said little walking the block-and-a-half to my truck. I unlocked her door and helped her inside. I made my way around to the driver's side and started the truck. I sat there with my hands on the wheel and suddenly couldn't even move. I was literally paralyzed as a wave of emotion washed over me and I was on the verge of absolutely losing it. Shannon sensed it, too, and just reached over and took my right hand in hers. I grasped her hand with mine and clutched it, holding it to my lips. As I did, the floodgates opened and months and years of pent up emotion began pouring out of me as I wept in a way I hadn't since I was a child.
"I'm so sorry," I sobbed. "I'm so fucking sorry."
Shannon pulled her hand back and climbed over to just grab me and hold me close to her. I had tried to be the hero for so long and tried to push away my breaking point until I no longer knew where it was and couldn't ask for help - even when I needed it most.
We must have sat there for twenty minutes, with me just sobbing and Shannon comforting me. I didn't even care and neither did she. All I knew was that she was there again when I needed her most. When I finally composed myself I was absolutely physically and emotionally drained. Without a word we silently switched places and Shannon, who actually disliked driving my truck, drove us back out to the farm. Bridget was still at Jack and Suzanne's and the boys were still with Clarissa.
I'd like to be able to say that we engaged in some maddening, passionate, animalistic makeup sex. But we didn't. She simply helped me out of my clothes and into bed and joined me. I was so mentally and physically exhausted that I fell asleep in her arms and neither of us budged for the rest of the night. It was a watershed moment in our relationship as I knew that I could be vulnerable in her presence and know that, when I was weak, Shannon could be strong enough for the both of us. And she knew that I could be that for her. It was a shitty way for me to have to find out - not letting her in on the knowledge that our family was in danger. But I also knew it was a mistake I would never make again.
*****
Shannon took the day off work the next day to be with me for Margolene's funeral. The Episcopal parish in Red River Falls had a fairly sizeable congregation and was quite full with mourners. Lieutenant Amy Van Deekum's honor guard looked stoic, smart and extremely professional as they provided final watch over Margolene. Not all departments did that for family members but we do.
I felt it happening again, even though I wasn't sure why. The rapid heart rate, my breathing picked up and I started sweating profusely. Shannon sensed it and squeezed my hand harder and leaned in to nuzzle my cheek and give me a few soft kisses on my cheek and whispered in my ear that it was okay. Just her presence, her touch and her scent was thebangutic and I felt myself gradually calming down. I didn't let go of her hand the rest of the service.
Like the rest, we followed the cortege to the cemetery and found a place to park. Two of my deputies had provided escort while the Red River Falls PD provided traffic control. We followed the pallbearers to the open grave and stood hand-in-hand for the graveside service. It lasted for about 15 minutes and we watched as Bud and his family exchanged numerous hugs and handshakes with everyone who attended. I had always been friendly with Bud's children and I wanted to let them know how much I loved and admired their mother, which they appreciated.
We had finally decided to start heading back to my truck when I heard someone call out to me.
"Patrick?" I turned and saw it was none other than Bud Roberts.
"Yes?"
"Uh, well, I was wondering if I could have a word with you," he said. "In private. Only for a few minutes, I promise," he said, smiling at Shannon.
I looked to Shannon, who just half-smiled and said, "I'll wait for you at the truck." I was slightly irritated that she hadn't bailed me out. But I also know that she probably knew better than me that I needed to bury the past once and for all...if not to forgive Bud and Clarissa, then so I could at least get to the point where I didn't give a shit. Shannon gave me a quick kiss and turned to head back towards my vehicle. Bud stood there watching her go, eyes firmly fixed on Shannon's magnificent ass. I couldn't blame him. But it still pissed me off.
"Take a picture. It'll last longer," I said, snapping him out of it.
"Oh, right. Sorry," he said, sheepishly.
I followed Bud to a small sitting bench nestled amongst the headstones and about 50 yards away from the dispersing crowd. I took his lead and had a seat next to him.
"Well," I started, "you wanted to talk. Spill your guts."
"That's kind of why I wanted to talk to you, Patrick. I have a lot I want to say. And after today, I'm afraid I might not get a chance to tell you."
"Okay," I encouraged.
"Patrick, I'm a man who is used to getting what he wants. I've always been that way. If there was something I wanted, I did whatever it took to eliminate everything that stood between me and my goals, understand?"
"Okay, Coach Roberts," I said, sarcastically. "Get to the point."
"Sorry. I know that must sound like a cliché. But it's true. When we were younger Margolene was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen in my entire life."
"She was a beautiful woman up until the day she died, Bud. Not just in her youth. Margolene was one of the most beautiful, genuine and caring people I've ever met," I added.
"Yes, I know. I guess, Patrick, that I've just always been someone who was never able to combine my physical attraction and emotional attraction to someone. My emotional attachment lasted only as long as my physical attraction. I know that probably makes me an asshole in some peoples' eyes. But at least I'm being honest about that."
"Again, what's your point?"
"My point, Patrick, is that I've been unhappy and miserable for a long time. And I want you to understand that my unhappiness is what led me to do what I did with Clarissa. I know that doesn't excuse what I did to you. But I just want you to understand where I was coming from."
"Fine. I understand. May I go now?"
"Patrick, I want you to know that I really did love Margolene at the end. I know it was her illness and all. But when she started losing weight and started to look again like the woman I fell in love with all that time ago."
My eyes narrowed. "Let me see if I understand you correctly, Bud. You're sitting here trying to tell me that you rediscovered your love for the woman who bore you four children after she started losing weight? Weight that she was losing because the scourge of cancer entered her body and started destroying her? You're trying to tell me that you started to feel sexual attraction for your wife for the first time in years only when she was dying of cancer?"
"I know it sounds bad when you put it that way, Patrick. But at first, I thought she was doing it for me. I thought she was losing the weight for me. And it worked. But just when it was starting to go so well, she found the lump in her breast and everything got thrown into chaos. I had always loved her breasts and then they were both surgically removed. The chemo and radiation left her an emaciated, bony, skeletal looking shell of who I had started to fall in love with again. Pretty soon, I was driving her all over to doctor's appointments in Rochester at the Mayo Clinic. But nothing was working."
Fuck! I just shook my head in disbelief. "Bud, why in the fuck are you telling me all of this shit?"
"Patrick, all of this has made me take a hard look at my own mortality. I'm approaching my late 50's now. I know there are probably fewer days ahead than there are behind me and that thought is now scaring me."
"Yeah? And?"
"Patrick, I'm going to ask you something and I know it is going to be hard for you to hear."
"Why am I not surprised by that?" I said, acerbically.
"Patrick, I'm asking you to forgive me. For everything."
"Fine, I forgive you. Can I go now?"
"That's not all, Patrick. I want your forgiveness for everything I did. I also want to ask you for your blessing."
"My blessing? Blessing for what?"
"I...I want...to ask you...for your permission to start seeing Clarissa...again," he stammered.
Pretty sure my jaw dropped. If I stood up too quickly, I would have tripped over it.
"You've gotta be shitting me. Are you fucking kidding me???"
"Patrick, just hear me out, okay?"
"No! No, I won't hear you out! Look over there," I said, pointing towards Margolene's yet-unburied casket. "Your wife isn't even buried in the ground yet and you are asking me to bless her replacement? Jesus Christ! What the fuck is wrong with you, you miserable old bastard?!!"
"Yes, Patrick! I am a miserable old bastard! I've been miserable ever since you forced me to stop seeing Clarissa! Believe it or not, I did and do love her! My wife is gone, Patrick! My children are all grown and gone and have their own lives! I have nothing! No one! And it scares the hell out of me, Patrick! I know it takes a lot of gall for me to ask you this but I'm doing it out of respect for you, Patrick, and because of how sorry I am for everything Clarissa and I did to you.
"I know I have no right to ask this of you, Patrick. I know this is probably the last thing you want to hear and the last thing you ever expected. I also know you have the power to ruin me further if I anger you. I'm just asking you to forgive me and Clarissa enough to let us move on together. You're married again now, Patrick. To an absolutely amazing and beautiful woman. You're so lucky! I just want to experience that again before I'm too old! Please, Patrick! I'm begging you. I don't want to spend the last days of my life alone!"
I was too stunned and shocked to do anything else but just sit back down on that bench. I stared at Margolene's casket. A short distance away, the cemetery crew waited for the last of the mourners to leave before lowering the casket into the metal vault and then sealing it away for eternity. It pained me to know that it was the last time I would see her, or at least her casket. It looked so lonely just sitting there, a gentle breeze flowing and causing ripples amongst the massive pile of flowers that sat atop her casket.
Flowers. Caskets. Death. I remembered a story that was often told about how flowers came to be associated with funerals. It was often said that flowers were used in the days prior to modern embalming techniques when the time between death and burial was necessarily short, given the rate of decay. Flowers, and lots of them, were used to mask the smell of decay, as well as to add some pleasant beauty to the scene to offset the various colors the body would show as the decomposition process took its inevitable and natural course.
Who are we to think that we can add beauty to death? Do we really think embalming, dressing a corpse in pretty clothes, adding makeup and a lot of flowers can truly mask the ugliness behind death and the fact that a human being has said goodbye to everyone and everything they leave behind? How do you dress up the fact that the sum total of a person's life carries on only in those who are left behind? Margolene was lying in that casket right now. The shell of a body she left behind couldn't care less what Bud and I were talking about. I wondered if there was some spirit, some remnant of her essence and intellect that was left behind anywhere that still cared about Bud. Or hated him. Or pitied him. Or felt anything, something for this morally bankrupt sack of shit that sat next to me. The man who dared to ask me for forgiveness for violating my marriage and my wife and made her into a whore. The Catholic in me thought there was something left of her somewhere who still cared. The cynic in me wasn't so sure.
But then I remembered something that Shannon had quoted to me from a book she was reading. I can't for the life of me remember the book or the topic but the phrase had stuck with me for over a year. It said, "True forgiveness means giving up all hope of a better past."
No matter what I did, I couldn't change anything to make what Clarissa and Bud did to me go away. I couldn't change the past to make Clarissa un-fuck Bud Roberts or Marion Lawson or Brad Weston or anyone else she decided to spread her legs for. But the fact to the matter is, it no longer matters. I made a vow yesterday that I would never make the same mistakes with Shannon again. And just moments ago, I had told Bud I would forgive him. And even if I couldn't change it, I realized in that moment that I no longer gave a shit. Bud Roberts would always be Bud Roberts. Forgiving him meant that I had to give up all hope of ever changing him.
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