His lover had been gone just two weeks when they found him in the cemetery, slumped over the new and shining tombstone, the rubble of nearly a dozen aluminum cans scattered here and there like profane offerings.\u00a0 His lipstick was smeared and he was dressed in what appeared to be a dingy, secondhand wedding gown.\u00a0 He was sobbing and Officer Novak could do nothing for the mourning man who wept violently and swatted the policeman away every time he touched the man\u2019s back in comfort.\u00a0 It was Eugene and Novak knew Eugene as did everyone else in town.\u00a0 Novak walked down the hill away from the cemetery and radioed the station before remembering that he was the only one on duty.\u00a0 He sat in the cruiser for some time thinking.\u00a0 Then he used his personal cellular telephone and called Paul Gully, the owner of the IGA grocery market in town.\u00a0 Paul was not in the store but a cashier listened to Novak\u2019s quandary and told him to call Lyle, Paul\u2019s brother, who lived in the city.<\/p>\n
\u201cLyle went to school with him,\u201d said the cashier.\u00a0 \u201cMost of the Gully boys did.\u201d<\/p>\n
She read Lyle\u2019s number to the officer.\u00a0 It was taped to her cash register, along with the rest of the family\u2019s numbers.<\/p>\n
\u201cI suppose I could arrest him,\u201d Novak said, \u201cbut I can\u2019t see the use.\u201d\u00a0 Inside the cruiser he shook his head, then peered back to confirm that Eugene was still holding the tombstone to the earth.\u00a0 It was early in the morning, and the grass of the cemetery held the light of the sun in its particles of dew.\u00a0 Won\u2019t be long until it\u2019s snow<\/em>, thought Novak.\u00a0 Then he dialed Lyle\u2019s number.\u00a0 Lyle answered and told Novak he would be out to the cemetery in a half hour.\u00a0 He told Novak not to let Eugene leave.<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019ll get his keys,\u201d said Novak, \u201cif you can get him down to the cruiser, I\u2019ll drive him home or to the jail.\u00a0 I don\u2019t want to make a deal of it all, I just want the poor guy to dry out.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNo need,\u201d said Lyle, \u201cI\u2019ll drive his car to his place and then you can drive me back to the cemetery for my truck.\u00a0 I\u2019ve known Eugene since we were kids.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cMust be hard,\u201d said Novak, \u201call of it I mean.\u00a0 He got dealt a rough hand of it.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019ll be right there,\u201d said Lyle.<\/p>\n Novak walked back to the cemetery with a thermos of coffee.\u00a0 He could hear Eugene sobbing from a distance.\u00a0 He poured some of the coffee from the thermos into a plastic cup and held it out for the man.<\/p>\n \u201cHere,\u201d said Novak, \u201ccome on now.\u00a0 You got to sober up.\u00a0 Sober up and we can talk.\u201d<\/p>\n Eugene\u2019s shoulders wracked.\u00a0 His hair was thinning on top but long enough everywhere else to trail over his shoulders and to stick to his stubbly face.\u00a0 No grass had yet grown on his lover\u2019s grave.\u00a0 Novak had never had to bury anyone.<\/p>\n \u201cI am sorry about Jeremy,\u201d said Novak at last.\u00a0 \u201cI am very sorry. \u00a0For your loss.\u201d<\/p>\n He set his hand on the man\u2019s shoulder but this time it was allowed to rest there, and through the gauzy fabric of Eugene\u2019s dress, he felt the grief surge through the man\u2019s body; all of his muscles were tense and trembling and it reminded Novak of a terrified animal and he was sorry once more.\u00a0 He squeezed Eugene\u2019s shoulder and for a time they were that way, connected in the tiny countryside cemetery, two semi-strangers in the morning light.<\/p>\n Then Novak said, \u201cI didn\u2019t know, I did not know that Jeremy was gay.\u201d\u00a0 He had taken a chance.<\/p>\n Eugene looked up at him and his mascara was ruined and all over his face like the paint of a broken clown.\u00a0 He said to the policeman, \u201cWhen you\u2019re gay in a small town, you don\u2019t worry about dying.\u00a0 You worry about being found out.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHe wasn\u2019t found out,\u201d said Novak, removing his hand.<\/p>\n \u201cNot before.\u00a0 But I went to the funeral,\u201d said Eugene, running the back of his hand over his wet face.\u00a0 His hands were thin, hairy, the nails of his fingers overly long.\u00a0 They were not the hands of a farmer or a carpenter or construction worker.<\/p>\n Novak shrugged.\u00a0 \u201cSo?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI was drunk,\u201d Eugene stammered, \u201cI couldn\u2019t stay away.\u00a0 Couldn\u2019t not see him again.\u00a0 So I watched from the road.\u00a0 But then I couldn\u2019t hear, so I walked up and everyone turned to look.\u201d<\/p>\n Novak kicked a stone near the grave and accidentally sent it towards the marker where it pinged off into the short distance.\u00a0 Eugene looked at him.\u00a0 Novak looked at him and then laughed quietly, he could not contain himself.\u00a0 He muffled his mouth with his hands.<\/p>\n \u201cWhat?\u201d Eugene asked, \u201cWhat?\u201d<\/p>\n Novak reassembled himself, said, \u201cThat probably wasn\u2019t the smartest thing to do Eugene.\u00a0 Don\u2019t get angry at me.\u00a0 You were drunk then and you\u2019re drunk now.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHow many funerals you been to Officer?\u201d Eugene said, angrily, holding again to the tombstone.\u00a0 \u201cHow many friends you buried?\u201d<\/p>\n Novak shook his head, said, \u201cNone.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cIt ain\u2019t an uncommon thing to see people drunk at a funeral,\u201d Eugene said.\u00a0 Then, \u201cPeople get sad.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cEugene,\u201d said Novak, \u201cdo you want any of my coffee?\u201d<\/p>\n Eugene shook his head and went back to hugging the white marble stone.\u00a0 Soon, he was crying again.\u00a0 Novak moved away from him to the base of a large white pine where he sat in the shade and drank the hot coffee and looked out over the fields to where a red pickup truck was coming towards the cemetery.\u00a0 On the margins of the fields the autumn leaves were rusting beautifully.\u00a0 Novak removed his hat and wiped his sweating brow.\u00a0 Despite the season, the day was growing warm.\u00a0 He walked down the slope of the graveyard to the road and Lyle pulled his truck behind Novak\u2019s cruiser.\u00a0 The two men shook hands.<\/p>\n \u201cHe\u2019s pretty distraught,\u201d Novak said.<\/p>\n \u201cYou try to get him in your car?\u201d asked Lyle.<\/p>\n \u201cNo,\u201d said Novak, \u201cwe\u2019ve just been talking.\u201d<\/p>\n Lyle nodded and the two men walked back to Eugene.\u00a0 Eugene was sitting in the grass, leaning his back against the un-carved side of Jeremy Olson\u2019s tombstone.\u00a0 He was noisily drinking another can of beer, the yellow fluid occasionally dripping down his chin.\u00a0 His shoulders were not covered by the silky gown and there was hair on them.\u00a0 Lyle reached the graveside and extended his hand to Eugene.<\/p>\n \u201cIt\u2019s been awhile,\u201d said Lyle.\u00a0 \u201cI\u2019m sorry about Jeremy.\u00a0 He was a good man.\u201d<\/p>\n Eugene slugged the beer down and eyed Lyle, tears in his eyes.\u00a0 His throat pumped the beer into his stomach.\u00a0 \u201cHey Lyle,\u201d he said finally.<\/p>\n Lyle sat down in the grass, pulled a long green blade from the earth and rolled it in his fingers.\u00a0 The wind was in his hair and from the tops boughs of the white pines long needles fell to earth.\u00a0 It was strange for him to be in the cemetery for any other reason than to be with his two boys, but he was happy that they were near him now, watching him, observing this trio of unlikely visitors, and he knew that before he left the yard he would touch their stones and feel happy for it.<\/p>\n \u201cMy boys are buried here,\u201d said Lyle, after some time.\u00a0 He did not know what else to say.\u00a0 \u201cThey\u2019re over there.\u00a0 My wife and I have plots already bought up.\u00a0 Right next to them.\u00a0 Some people, most people don\u2019t like cemeteries I suppose.\u00a0 But I like this one.\u00a0 This view.\u00a0 The pine trees and the prairie grasses.\u00a0 I even like the smell of manure in the spring.\u00a0 I don\u2019t know.\u00a0 It\u2019s a good place here, isn\u2019t it?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI never felt at home here,\u201d Eugene said to Lyle and Lyle knew that he was not talking about the cemetery but rather the town, the land, all of it.<\/p>\n \u201cI was always surprised you stayed,\u201d said Lyle.<\/p>\n \u201cI was afraid to go anywhere else,\u201d said Eugene, and he finished the beer and crumpled its metal can.\u00a0 \u201cYou know how it is Lyle.\u00a0 We weren\u2019t prepared to go off to the city.\u00a0 I tried once.\u00a0 Tried out Minneapolis.\u00a0 But people move fast there.\u00a0 I don\u2019t know.\u00a0 I never caught onto it.\u00a0 At least here you know everybody, even if they don\u2019t like you or understand you, they\u2019re familiar. \u00a0Over time, people like me, we find each other.\u00a0 Sometimes we didn\u2019t even like each other, but we were all we had.\u00a0 I loved him but I don\u2019t think he ever loved me.\u00a0 He loved his wife.\u00a0 He loved\u2026\u201d\u00a0 Eugene looked at the grass.\u00a0 \u201cI never faulted him for that.\u00a0 It broke my heart but I never faulted him for that.\u201d<\/p>\n There was a silence between them and Lyle saw that Novak was still beneath the white pine and there were newly fallen needles in his short hair.\u00a0 The policeman\u2019s eyes were closed and his arms were crossed over his chest.<\/p>\n Eugene sniffled.\u00a0 \u201cI didn\u2019t know you\u2019d lost two children.\u201d<\/p>\n Lyle nodded.\u00a0 \u201cNeither of them lived very long.\u00a0 One died right away and the other was sick for close to a year.\u00a0 I used to carry pictures in my wallet but that was a long time ago and now I just come here to visit them.\u201d\u00a0 He paused and wanted to say something more but let it go.<\/p>\n \u201cI can\u2019t come here all the time,\u201d Eugene said.\u00a0 \u201cI don\u2019t want to embarrass her.\u00a0 Or the kids.\u201d<\/p>\n Lyle nodded.\u00a0 It was a hard thing that Eugene said but it was true.\u00a0 Lyle said, \u201cMaybe the best thing is to move on.\u201d<\/p>\n Lyle rose from the grass and reached for Eugene\u2019s hand.\u00a0 \u201cCome on,\u201d he said, \u201clet me drive you home.\u201d<\/p>\n Lyle pulled Eugene to his feet where the man wobbled for a moment before gaining his balance.\u00a0 \u201cGive me your keys,\u201d said Lyle.<\/p>\n \u201cLeft them in the car.\u201d<\/p>\n Beneath the canopy of the white pine Lyle kicked Novak\u2019s boots and the policeman rose quickly and brushed the needles from his crew-cut.\u00a0 \u201cI\u2019ll follow you,\u201d he told Lyle, and the three men slowly moved out of the cemetery.<\/p>\n It was not a long drive back into town and they rode beside the Beef River, low between its banks.\u00a0 Fields of corn, harvested and now just stubble.\u00a0 A few passing trucks.\u00a0 Everyone waved.<\/p>\n Eugene lived above the hardware store, downtown, and so Lyle pulled into the back alley behind the building.\u00a0 \u201cWhich one is your apartment key?\u201d he asked Eugene.\u00a0 Eugene touched a key with a poorly painted fingernail.\u00a0 Novak had pulled behind them in his patrol-car and had gotten out and walked to the driver side of Eugene\u2019s car.\u00a0 Lyle rolled down the window, handed Novak the keys and said, \u201cYou open up the door so we can come right up.\u00a0 I don\u2019t want to make a scene.\u201d<\/p>\n They waited a beat for the police officer to walk up a back set of stairs and then Lyle pulled Eugene from his own car and carried the man up to his little apartment and put him in bed.\u00a0 He was already snoring loudly.\u00a0 Lyle pulled a blanket over him.\u00a0 There was a picture of Jeremy on the bed-side table and in the picture Jeremy was kneeling over a trophy deer, its basket of antlers tall and wide.\u00a0 He was dressed all in bright orange.\u00a0 They left the keys on a Formica kitchen table and left the apartment.\u00a0 Lyle crawled into the police cruiser with Novak.<\/p>\n \u201cNobody ever drives with me,\u201d said Novak.\u00a0 \u201cMy first job in Chicago, I had a partner there.\u00a0 But there\u2019s no need up here.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou must see some things,\u201d said Lyle.\u00a0 \u201cYou must see some things doing this work.\u201d<\/p>\n They drove through town, back towards the cemetery.\u00a0 \u201cI\u2019ve never seen anything like today.\u00a0 In a big city, shoot.\u00a0 People like Eugene either get ignored or arrested.\u00a0 But he wasn\u2019t causing any harm I suppose.\u00a0 Long as he wasn\u2019t driving.\u201d<\/p>\n They rode in silence through the harvested cornfields and brightly colored forests.\u00a0 Novak\u2019s police radio was quiet all the way.\u00a0 He pulled the cruiser to the side of the road at the base of the cemetery.\u00a0 The two men shook hands again.<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019ll get those beer cans,\u201d said Lyle.<\/p>\n Novak shook his head and smiled.\u00a0 \u201cPoor guy had finished half a case of beer and it wasn\u2019t even noon yet.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cTake it easy Officer Novak,\u201d said Lyle.<\/p>\n Novak waved a hand and was gone, driving down a valley and over the Beef River which shone blue and silver under the towering sun.<\/p>\n Lyle collected the beer cans in a plastic bag which he found behind the bench seat of his truck and then walked over to the graves of his two sons and rested his hands on their markers.\u00a0 There had been one time in his entire life when he had felt loneliness and it was after Benjamin had died, their second, and before their two other children were born.\u00a0 He and Bea would lay in bed every night and she would cry herself to sleep and there was nothing for him to do but to wrap himself around her and when he realized that was no use he would hold her hand until she squeezed his hand white and the bones inside hurt.\u00a0 Other nights he would sit on the edge of the bed and think about the moments he had held the babies, each in their brief time, so small and warm and looking so perfect and he was filled with a kind of anger that seethed inside him and he would want to waste something or waste himself but all that he might do was cry but there were never any tears.\u00a0 He and Bea had almost separated.\u00a0 A woman had approached her in church one Sunday and said, \u201cWhy do you keep doing this to yourselves?\u201d\u00a0 And it had broken her apart in a manner that Lyle was unable to reconstruct.\u00a0 They went a year without making love, drifting around the house like two ghosts.\u00a0 When he touched her, sometimes she shuddered.\u00a0 And then, one day, it was gone, and they were healed and there was no explanation for it except time.<\/p>\n Beneath his callused hands, the headstones were warm with the day\u2019s sun.\u00a0 He went down to his knees and pulled some weeds around their markers, ran his fingers in their etched names to wipe away what blown dirt had come to rest there.\u00a0 He was not sad there, before them.<\/p>\n He walked back to the truck and threw the empty beer cans in the bed of the vehicle and then drove home.<\/p>\n His lover had been gone just two weeks when they found him in the cemetery, slumped over the new and shining tombstone, the rubble of nearly a dozen aluminum cans scattered here and there like profane offerings.\u00a0 His lipstick was smeared and he was dressed in what appeared to be a dingy, secondhand wedding gown.\u00a0 […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":22,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"spay_email":"","jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_is_tweetstorm":false},"categories":[10],"tags":[20],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/s6Jypy-triage","_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/wp0.vanderbilt.edu\/nashvillereview\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/5085"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/wp0.vanderbilt.edu\/nashvillereview\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/wp0.vanderbilt.edu\/nashvillereview\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/wp0.vanderbilt.edu\/nashvillereview\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/22"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/wp0.vanderbilt.edu\/nashvillereview\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=5085"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/wp0.vanderbilt.edu\/nashvillereview\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/5085\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":10463,"href":"https:\/\/wp0.vanderbilt.edu\/nashvillereview\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/5085\/revisions\/10463"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/wp0.vanderbilt.edu\/nashvillereview\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=5085"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/wp0.vanderbilt.edu\/nashvillereview\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=5085"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/wp0.vanderbilt.edu\/nashvillereview\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=5085"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}Nickolas Butler<\/a><\/h6>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"