Steady locust musings hummed like an electric generator powering the town. On Livinthen Street Jonas Catsek quietly observed all the neighbors staying busy coddling their colonial style homes.
He had tried in his later years to continue running a prosperous funeral home on Amherst Road but had decided to sell the business his neighbor Richard Crick. Jonas kept the one hearse as his only form of transportation.
A pile of mulch was decaying in his driveway as he sat in his normal resting place. Per usual Jonas admired the youth of the Crick children from his lawn chair as he smoked two or three cigarettes. Occasionally, Mrs. French would wave and he would nod but he had very little interest in small talk.. This is not to say he was grim or cold to his neighbors, he was simply more content observing. In fact, watching was all he did.
Then there was a Monday in late April, a morning mist had lifted from Hunting Forest and he positioned his chair close to the road. Eleven became noon, which became one as he stared at his neighbors seemingly vacated house (being that both parents had full time work). Suddenly, the front door opened and one of the small girls strolled out in his direction. Without hesitation, she spoke:
“Hey Mister, I’m Martha,” she paused a moment, “What’s your name?”
“Hello there, you can call me Mr. Catsek.”
“May daddy says you’re lonely.”
Unable to keep from laughing, he responded, “I’d say he’s about right.”
“Its not funny mister, why are you so sad?”
Jonas thought for a moment, searching for a simple answer, “I can’t ride my bike anymore.”
“Did you forget how?” she asked.
“I suppose I did, Maria. Hey, aren’t you supposed to be in school?”
A worried look overcame her face, as if she had been caught playing hooky.
“I am sick today,” she said, “I should go inside now.”
Maria turned away quickly and retreated back to her home. Jonas chuckled, laughing out loud for first time in months. The guilty voice in his mind convinced him that he hoped that Maria would be sick enough for her to stay at home the next day.
That night, Jonas was pondering his conversation with the young girl. He wondered what had made her come over to him. She hadn’t seemed intimidated, her approach was precocious considering her age.
Around the same time the following morning, Maria opened her front door and walked towards him.
“I’m sick again today,” she said folding her arms, determined not be interrogated.
“Oh, I see, must be serious.”
Jonas tried to hide his excitement from her visit. She shrugged and asked,
“What’s that big car for Mister?”
“That big car used to be for my job.”
“What was your job?’
Jonas thought for a moment, “I guess I was kind of like a taxi driver.”
“Can I ride in it?”
“I’m afraid not Martha.”
“My Daddy says it’s for dead people.”
Jonas laughed. “Actually it’s for living people who no longer have bodies.”
She thought for a moment, pondering his response, “Did they pay you?”
The sky darkened and it began to drizzle. They said their goodbyes and Jonas moved his lawn chair into his garage to enjoy the rain.
The next day, he was not surprised to see Martha again. This time though, she straddled her own bike, wearing a large pink helmet. He smiled.
“You know you shouldn’t really be outside too much if you’re not feeling well.”
She ignored the statement. “Why do you have two bikes on top of your dead people car if you don’t know how to ride?”
“I think they are memories for me.”
“Do you want to take a ride?”
“Oh I don’t know sweetie. I’m too old for that.”
“That’s silly mister I used to be too young so how can you be too old?”
He thought of his wife alongside him as they rode home when their rides had been cut short so many times by the rain. Jonas got up from his seat and untied one of the bikes from atop the hearse. He got on carefully and they rode together as a new rain cloud gather overhead.