with a k

There are only two magazines in the lobby of Del Rio Monument Works and Eternity Planning: Field & Stream and Guns & Ammo. The television is always tuned to the community bulletin board and two vending machines take turns at extortion. 

This is what Link learned in less than fifteen minutes. 

"Excuse me." The receptionist didn't look up from her issue of Guns & Ammo. "Excuse... uh... could I change the channel?" 

The narrow lady sighed, lifted and dropped her shoulders without looking up at Link. “That's the only one we get." 

So Link watched one of the vending machines blink.

 60... CENTS… 60… CENTS… 

He counted the number of 60's in a minute, then the number of seconds between 60 and CENTS. Twenty-five minutes into his wait, he was sure he would die before his name was called.

 He had started to nod off when the front door swung open, hurling a bell from the knob to the floor where it died with a stifled ring. The force behind the door had been a lady, maybe in her mid-thirties, who was now leaning into the face of the receptionist. She spoke before the door closed behind her.

 “I need to make an exchange.” Link thought he noticed an accent. 

The receptionist forced her chin up. “An exchange? Exchange what?”

 “I want to exchange my plot next to my husband’s for one on the other side of the cemetery. As far away as I can get!” Maybe British, Link thought, but her accent had been tempered by years in the states. She had even developed a slight drawl from living in the south.

 The receptionist looked over her glasses. “You’ll have to speak with Mr. Dunlap. He’s with someone. You can wait over there.”

The lady huffed and dropped into the seat next to Link. She picked up a Field & Stream and opened it to no particular page.

Link smiled and looked at his feet. The lady stared at him for several seconds. Then she spoke.

“Would you rather sleep with me or hunt quail?”

“What?” Link immediately wanted to return his focus to the vending machine.

“If you had an opportunity to go quail hunting or sleep with me, which would it be?”

A little shaken, Link found his feet again. “I’ve never been fond of hunting.”

“There’s a rare bloke around these parts! Though I doubt anyone is as fond of it as my husband. Do you know he went hunting after I told him I was leaving him? There I am, packing boxes, and he’s pulling on camouflage and packing beers.”

It was clear now there was no backing out of this conversation, so Link asked, "How long have you been married?"

"It would have been seven years this August."

"How did you meet?"

he lady put down the magazine. "I was working at a hotel in Suffolk. He was staying there for a convention. Bathroom equipment suppliers. You wouldn't think there's much money in that, but his company had just developed a touch-less paper towel dispenser. Wave your hand and out it comes."

"Yeah, I've seen those. I feel like I'm saluting for a paper towel."

"Well, they became the rage in bathrooms all the way to West Sussex. Jack's company did so well they decided to market to America and picked him to manage the operation. They built the factory over in Como, so we moved here. That was year number five, the beginning of the end."

"Maybe you should have tried Osage. It's greener and people are generally happier."

"Wouldn't have made a difference. Jack's brother, Frank, was already here. He's married to a cleaning products heiress, so he doesn't have to work. He has all day, every day to do what he wants. And he wants to hunt. Whenever Jack is free,” she continued, “he wants Jack to hunt with him. It wasn't long after we moved here that the towel dispensers weren't all that were touch-less. Jack took long weekends to hunt with Frank. Year around - deer season, duck season, quail season."

Link had started to notice that the lady was attractive in an affected way. Her hair was straight and brown with a slight spray lift. Her makeup was heavy. Still, she came across as a natural beauty, in a 1967 Look magazine sort of way. Valley of the Dolls liner extended the corner of her eyes; her lips were lipstick ready to leave evidence on a coffee cup.

"Do you know he had the cheek to come home ramped one night after hunting and climb on top of me, slurring and wanting to 'show his Little Miss Fantastic how much he loves her?'” The lady raised her painted eyebrows. “Now, for years I've made sure I'm all made up, looking pretty for him when he gets home. I'm not sure if he had ever seen me without my makeup. I kept up this vigil well after he started getting home at three, four in the morning. But this night I decided why bother and he comes home and makes it further than the couch and he's all randy. When I turn over and he sees my face, naked as birth, this look comes over him, sort of a mix of disbelief, disappointment and disgust. He goes all whiny.” She deepened her voice and slurred. 'You're supposed to be my queen, my Little Miss Fantastic, all the time.'"

Link looked at the lady's mascara. "It seems to me, well, tragic when a person can't take off her make-up around her husband.” 

"You know, I didn't mind; I wanted to look good for him. But after weeks of falling asleep alone only to wake up when he stumbled over Liddy - Liddy's our dog - I figured why bother."

"I don't blame you."

"I wanted to make him happy,” the lady continued. “I tried to be the angel, tart and wife with perfect mascara. I tried for so long to be his ‘Little Miss Fantastic.’ And how did he show his gratitude? With remarks like 'Gettin' an ass on you, ain't you? I do believe you've put on some kilos?' All the while he's guzzling beer and whiskey with his brother and sporting quite the belly. The American way, he tells me."

"At least he's patriotic." Link grinned a little.

"Ha! A regular blooming Yankee Doodle when it comes to the Wild Turkey."

"I'm sorry."

"It's all right. I'm cutting my losses and the bastard loose and relocating to the other side of the graveyard." The lady lifted her chin.

"What will you do now?" asked Link.

"The divorce is final in two weeks. I have a friend from back home who lives in Phoenix. Her husband's cousin is a doctor and quite handsome from what I hear. We've been speaking on the phone for some time now. I'm flying out to meet him next month."

"Back in the game already?"

"I figure why not?” she said. “I've never done anything like that; I'm ready to take some chances."

Link gave her a sideways smile. "I don't know. Sounds to me like you're playing it safe."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, you're going on the recommendation of an old friend. You've been in contact with him numerous times. Your prospect has money. I'm just not sure this is much of a risk."

"I haven't seen his picture yet. I haven't sent mine. That's enough risk for now."

"I guess it is.” Link laughed. “Why haven't you exchanged pictures?"

"He wanted to, but I don't have one I'm happy with. Can't get the makeup right. I'm either as bright as a cartoon or pasty as a corpse. I'm thinking of sending a black and white."

"Why don't you send one without your makeup? Let him really see you."

 The lady raised an eyebrow. "I don't want to end it before it starts."

 "It can't be working that much magic."

 "You're sweet, but trust me, it makes all the difference."

 Link leaned back a little and took in the lady's face, neck, the strand of hair that had fallen against her cheek.

 "I would like to see you without your makeup."

 "You'll have to kill me first."

 Link smiled for a second, then his face went blank and his cheeks turned pale. He looked at the floor and blinked slowly, wrinkling his forehead. He raised his hand to his eyes and rubbed his temples.

 "What is it?" The lady asked.

 "Nothing, nothing. I'm all right." His breath was staggered.

 "Oh dear. My chattering has done you in. Would you like an aspirin?”

 "No, no. That's not it. I get these flashes in my eyes sometimes."

 "Migraines?"

 "Kind of."

 "Oh."

 She didn't ask for more details. Worried that she might embarrass him, she read the community bulletin board.

 Three flashes of the vending machine later she surrendered. "Kind of? What does that mean?"

 Link moved his hand and looked at her. "It's really nothing. Just brain cancer."

 The lady's eyes widened as she leaned toward Link and whispered, "Did you say brain cancer?"

 "It's not a secret."

 "Oh my."

 60… CENTS… 60… CENTS… 60... CENTS...

 "But can't they do anything?"

 "The tumor is inoperable." The color was returning to Link's face.

 "That's why you're here." The lady looked around the lobby. "What's your name?"

 "Link."

 "Named after Abe Lincoln?"

 "No. My father was a fan of Link Wray."

 "Ah, yes. The twangy old guitarist. I saw him at a pub in London once. He and his wife seemed to get on rather well. She fed him beers on stage while he played. Nearly brought a tear to my eye. I’ll call you Abe. My name’s Rebeka, with a K."

 “Do you always introduce yourself like that?” Link asked.

 “It's a tribute to my mother. She had a reason for the spelling. This is what she always told me: When you see a K in a name, it’s like a tiny starburst showering glowing embers on whatever is next.”

 Link pictured names with a K on the wall across from him; tried to see sparks, neon or something. Then he remembered his own.

 “My K showers onto nothing. I wonder what your mom would say about that."

 “Not much of anything. She died two years back.”

 “I’m sorry; I didn’t...”

 “It’s all right.” She leaned her forehead toward Link and lowered her voice again. "How long do you have?"

 Link whispered, "The doctor tells me I'll probably be out of here before Christmas."

 "That makes for some holiday."

 "At least I'll miss the crowds."

 Rebeka smiled and looked at the receptionist. Then, suddenly, she frowned.

"So you have six months to live and you're spending your time buying a tombstone and plot? What are you thinking?" She said this to Link as loudly as she had spoken to the receptionist.

Link was startled. "I'm thinking about my family. I don't want them to have to deal with this after.”

"Don't you think your family would rather you live the rest of your life instead of setting up camp in the cemetery?"

"I'll have plenty of time when I take care of this."

"Take it from someone who knows. The days are easy to lose. You think 'oh, after I do this I can get on with that' or 'if I just put up with this, tomorrow will be different.' Next thing you know, it's seven years later and you have nothing to show for those years. All that life lost without really tasting it.”

"I don't have to worry about the seven year thing." Link smiled.

"I'm sorry. I didn't..."

"It's okay. I was joking."

Rebeka looked around again, noticing the couple waiting across the lobby.

"Do you have someone special?"

"I had a girlfriend.”

"What happened?"

"It didn't work out."

"I'll bet you broke it off when you found out about the cancer.” Rebeka shook her head. “You didn't want to trouble her."

"I don 't know why you even want to get into this."

"Because you need to get into it. Don't you think she would want to spend that time with you? You didn't even tell her why you really ended it, did you?"

"What's the point in putting her through that? It’ll just make it more difficult for her when it happens."

"Did you ever think that she might want to be put through that? It's real, even if it is temporary. Six months of something is better than seven years of nothing."

"Let's change the subject."

"All right, then,” Rebeka agreed. “What's next, after you take care of business here?"

"I thought I would go through my things, give away what I can, throw away the rest."

"And?"

"And I haven't planned beyond that."

Rebeka sighed and dropped her shoulders, leaning toward Link. "That's how you're spending the rest of your life? Are you mad?"

"What would you have me do?"

"Anything you want. You have a "get out of the humdrum" card. Use it, for god's sake!"

"I'm doing what I want."

"Isn't there something you would really like to do, something you've never done?"

Link looked at the floor and didn't say anything for several seconds. Then he smiled, a little embarrassed and said, "Taos."

"What?"

"Taos, New Mexico. I've always wanted to go there. They say there’s this hum that never stops and nobody can explain it." Rebeka noticed that Link lit up a bit; he seemed excited for the first time since they met.

"A hum?" She asked.

"A low hum. I've always wanted to hear the hum."

"From humdrum to some hum." Rebeka smiled. "Wouldn't have been my pick, but hey, you should go. You should go hear the hum"

“I can’t.” Link became deadpan again. "There's too much to do."

 "Okay, I give up! But when I see you in the next life, when I'm a fly hanging around your donkey ass, you'll year this tiny, buzzing voice say, "I told you so."

"Hey, why am I the donkey?"

Rebeka sat back, crossed her arms and shook her head. Link could tell he was getting to her.

"Why don't you help me pick out a rock?” he tried to look enthusiastic. “I never realized there are so many shades of granite."

"I'll pass."

Link waited. When Rebeka didn’t change her mind, he went outside and around to the back of the building. Blank headstones and statues sat among rubble as if they had bloomed from the granite. He sat on a stone and looked out across the graveyard. It was late afternoon and the shadows were long.

"Your nonchalance is infuriating, you know." Link hadn't heard Rebeka come out. She sat on a stone next to him.

"That's the plot I bought with my husband. Over there near the woods."

"So you're moving here, next to the building?"

"As far away from his bones as I can."

The sun was beginning to set, filling clouds with a luminous pink over the gray stones, monuments and mausoleums. A landscaper’s truck turned into the cemetery entrance and pulled up to a cluster of markers just to the left of Rebeka and Link. He hopped out of the cab and started to pull weeds from around one of the stones. The truck window was down so he could hear the radio.

"Tell me about her." Rebeka watched the mound of weeds grow next to the landscaper.

Link almost smiled. "When I first saw her, she was wearing overalls and a baseball cap. She had been painting a mural on the side of her house. A sort of anime portrait of her family. She was in the automated checkout of the grocery arguing with the recorded voice that kept telling her to remove her last item and place it in the bag. 'It's only a box of freakin' tampons!' she was shouting. She saw me laughing at her, so she confronted me in the parking lot. I made peace by sharing the strawberry Boone's Farm I had just bought. She took me back to her house to see the mural.

She has beautiful, straight, black hair, but I always liked her in a cap. Maybe because that's how I first saw her. She would get so angry when I would sneak up from behind and slip one on her. We would wrestle until we fell to the floor. Then she would leave the cap on."

Rebeka watched Link's face after he finished speaking. More of his story seemed to unfold silently with half-smiles and slow blinks, wrinkles that came and faded with every thought. When it ended for Link, too, she looked at the landscaper's truck.

"How many songs do you think you hear in a year?” Rebeka was silent for a moment. “I'll guess at least two, three hundred. Jack and I went dancing at least two times a week back home. Since we moved here, not once. All those songs and no dancing.”

The truck radio went silent. A second passed, then a slow, broken strum on a clean, electric guitar announced an arrival, and then respectfully waited.

I’ve got dreams... dreams... to… remember…

The same guitar returned and kept an arpeggiated vigil.

Link glanced at the pink clouds then turned to Rebeka.

“Would you like to dance?”

Rebeka smiled and stood up. She met Link in the middle of the headstones and statues where she put her arms around his neck and rested her chin on his shoulder. With his hands on the small of her back, Link moved slowly. As the sky turned from pink to gray, they danced among the rubble and carved granite, around frozen cherubs and broken angels. The graveyard shadows were stretched to the woods by the time a horn section laced it's way through the clean guitar.

“Excuse me.” Mr. Dunlap was standing in the doorway. “I’m ready to see you, ma’am.”

Rebeka leaned back from Link, her hands still on his back, and waited for him to say something. When he didn’t, she turned to Mr. Dunlap and said, “Actually, he was here first.”

Link looked at Mr. Dunlap, then Rebeka. He lowered his arms from her and stepped back. “That’s okay; you go ahead.”

***

The leaves were brittle under Link’s shoes, the way he liked them with all that air in between. It was more difficult to cross them with his cane, but he did anyway. When he got to the mailbox, he steadied himself on the post. Like always, he thumbed through the mail before heading back. He noticed an envelope postmarked in Taos, New Mexico. He opened it. 

Dear Abe,

Rebeka here. I was able to get your address from Mr. Dunlap.

There’s been quite the flurry of events since I saw you last. I flew to Phoenix to meet the doctor. While I was waiting for him to pick me up at the airport, I met this most amazing gentleman in the bar. He was driving to New Mexico. He likes to stop at airports along the way when he's driving. Says it's a kick to watch the people, look at their faces and hair and imagine all the places they're flying to and from.

Then he mentioned he was on his way to Taos. I asked why Taos, and he said "to hear a hum." Well, that did it! I ducked out of the airport with Henry – that’s his name - and we drove to Taos. On a whim! Can you believe it? A perfect stranger!

I’ve never had a better time. And guess what. He’s practically broke! We eat and buy gas, but that’s about it. We’ve been camping in parks and driving; it’s so beautiful out here.

You know what? It’s true about the hum. I've heard it. Kind of a low throbbing. Some of the people around here are annoyed by it, but I find it rather soothing. You really must get out here and hear it.

I hope all is well with you. I’ve enclosed a photo Henry took of me at a rest stop. You take care, now, Abe.

Love,

K

p.s.  Call her.

Link shook the envelope until a small photograph dropped into his palm. He turned it over. Rebeka’s eyes and lips were softer than Link remembered. Her hair was relaxed and straight and her skin was smooth and like milk. She was smiling and looked as if she was breathing for the first time. There’s something different, Link thought. He squinted. She was wearing no makeup. Link smiled. 

When he got back to the house, the phone was ringing. He stumbled, knocked over his cane and hopped through the rooms, leaning on furniture until he reached the phone.

 ""Is this Abe?"

The question surprised Link and he didn't say anything.

"Hello? Are you there?" The man's accent was British.

"Yes, yes. This is Abe."

"I've been asked to contact you if anything happened."

"Happened?"

"There's been an accident."

 *** 

Link parked his car on the side of Del Rio Street and left it running. He walked to the back of the Monument Works and through the rubble and headstones to the edge of the graveyard. There he stopped at a new stone and leaned on his cane.

Mr. Dunlap came out and met him. “Hello there, Link. Ready to make some arrangements?”

Link didn't say anything as he looked at the tombstone. He stared at the epitaph until flashes of light filled the sides of his vision, framing the words in tiny starbursts.

MISS

FANTASTIK

FROM

ENGLAND

“Honey, we need to get to the airport.” A lady in a baseball cap leaned out the window of Link’s car. He squinted toward her, then turned to Mr. Dunlap.

“Not today.”