Chapter 82: The Most Happy Fella

Judith was the first to reach me after the ceremony. “Oh, fuck, Drew. Outta the park. Just fuckin’ outta the park. Avery, wasn’t he?”

“Yes, Judith. I think he gets it. ‘Outta the park.”

“The ‘fuckin’’ park.” John added. “Not to put too fine a point on it.”

The rain had stopped.

In a rare move, seldom granted by the Rotunda’s Executive Director, the Rotunda’s south double doors were opened, inviting in a gust of fresh air and giving us access to the south portico and the steps leading down to the Lawn. A flickering sun broke through the already-crimson maples, which had begun to lose their leaves. It signaled an early fall.

“So. What now, boys?” Mallory caught up with us at the bottom of the steps.

“I don’t know. Disney World?” John grinned.

“You see what I live with?” Smiling, I shook my head.

“Remember The Mary Tyler Moore Show? The Chuckles the Clown funeral?” John motioned to himself. “Hey, that’s me. Can’t help it.”

  I motioned Mallory in for a hug. After, she stood back. “I borrowed your ‘shoulding’ line.” I said.

“I heard. Glad to help. You know, ‘anything for the cause.’” She added a  brief mock-salute.

“So. How ya doing?” I felt compelled to ask.

“Actually, pretty good. After I buried Curt, I swore off funerals. But this one? I felt I had to be here. As for the foundation, I’m still not completely clear about what my role is in all this, but I’m sure Judith will lead us ‘unto the path of righteousness,’ as they say.”

I smiled and nodded. “Walk with us.”

As we made our way toward the south end of the Lawn in silence, I noticed people, “young people” as we’d begun to call them. They walked in twos and threes, with backpacks strapped to their fit frames. It occurred to me that these were students. Classes were in session.

“God, they look so young,” I said, shaking my head.

“They are young.” Mallory said, laughing. “They’re us. Forty years ago.”

“Yeah? Well, they look twelve." I replied. John shielded his eyes from the sun. We were no longer shaded.

“But,” I reasoned, “they’ve got to be what? Eighteen? Seventeen at least?”

John did the mental math. “Do you realize, these walking talking human beings--the ones who, one day not so far off, will run the world—none of them were born when you and I got together.”

“Ok. Both of you can stop now. I get it. We’re officially old.” Mallory locked arms with me.

We stopped half-way to Cabell Hall, turned, and took in the sight of the Rotunda, looking majestic against a backdrop of blue skies, dotted with the occasional cotton-ball cloud.

“It’s still hard to believe she’s gone,” Mallory said, to no one in particular.

“Well, as you know all too well, it happens. Not always as we planned, but nonetheless.”

“Nobody gets out alive.” John smiled.

“Will you stop? What’s with that quote?”

“Just seemed timely,” he said, grin widening.

Mallory smiled, fielding a memory. “You know, I ran into Sara Michaels. She’s Sara Michaels Roman now. Anyway, I ran into her on the Lawn during the reunion keynote.”

“I saw her, too. We had a nice talk. About closure.”

“She told me that. And you know, she said the nicest thing.”

“What’s that?”

“She said you seemed so happy. That you’d found a wonderful guy. And then she added, ‘But he’d have to be, wouldn’t he?’”

I took John’s hand. “Yes, Mallory, yes he would.”