FICTION: “Grandpa Would’ve Wanted It” by Hunter Prichard

Illustration by Maura Walsh / Black Nail Studio.

FICTION
Grandpa Would’ve Wanted It
By Hunter Prichard

Business had slowed since sundown. Thad stood tall and straight-backed at the register. The regulars stopping for sandwiches and beer tried talking with him. It was mostly chatter about the weather or an upcoming hockey game but some of them managed to slip in a comment about Thaddeus Ramz, how good a man he’d been, how sad it was that he wouldn’t ever be seen at the poolroom having a beer or reading newspapers at Dunkin’ Donuts. Thad tried to smile the best he could, thanking them for saying kind things and assuring that his family was alright, that his grandpa would’ve been proud that people missed him.

He leaned against the register staring at nothing when Seth and Ernie came into the store and went to the back cooler. He watched Ernie snap a chocolate bar off the shelf as he raised a hand to Daisy Trotter and asked how she was in his dopey drawl. He laughed at Daisy about being so quiet and the smaller girl tried to smile. But she’d been tense and withdrawn all shift, preparing deli sandwiches for the customers with postured absorption. Thad tried talking with her like things were usual but he left her be when she was looking sorry for him.

“Dad told me to get it,” Seth said, coming to the register with a case of beer.

“I can’t be selling it to you,” Thad said. “They look at the cameras. I’ll get fired.”

“You’re not selling to me. I’m only picking it up.” Seth grinned.

Ernie grabbed some more chocolate off the rack as he wandered up and down the aisles and then up to them. “Chinese Pie for dinner,” he said. “Grandma had it baking when we left.”

“I might go over to Rosemarie’s for dinner,” Thad said, his voice low and cautious. 

“You’re better off.” Seth shook himself out. “They’re drunk already. Even the reverend ran out, about when the others did. He tried to be nice and stay for the luncheon after the service but then everyone started arguing.” He laughed. “Ulysses drank a pint during the service. He was getting wild. It was funny. They’d been so quiet, trying to be polite and behaved – then bam! Everyone screaming and arguing.”

“Yeah, they’re nice people,” Thad said.

“They sure got the hell out of there.”

“I figured.” Thad looked over at Daisy. “Maybe I’ll go over to the Trotter’s for dinner.”

Ernie ate the chocolate. “Did you see them crying at the funeral?”

“People always cry at funerals.”

“For Grandpa?”

“Joan told me they were probably faking it,” Seth said, trying to grin.

“I don’t know why they would.”

“Well, they didn’t really know him,” Seth told him, clutching the beer against his chest. “Aunt Joan was saying who would cry about that man dying.”

The door swayed and Rosemarie Trotter came in from the cold. She shook herself out and blew hot air into her hands. The plum-colored flush in her cheeks matched her frizzy hair.

“We’ll talk on it later,” Thad whispered.

“There’s nothing to talk about.” Seth turned. “Let’s go, Ernie.”

Rosemarie tried to smile as she came up to them. “I hated hearing of your grandpa,” she told them, reaching across the counter to pat Thad’s hand. “I wish I could’ve come to the service. Thad said it was only to be family.”

“That’s right,” Ernie said. “Thanks for saying so.”

“Yeah, thanks.” Seth looked away. “We’d better get home.”

“I bet Reverend Colvin made a good sermon,” she said quietly.

“It was alright. He didn’t know our grandpa so well.”

“Reverend Colvin sure knew him,” Rosemarie said, her tight smile beginning to falter. She shifted her weight and pretended like there was something in her eye until the boys had shambled out of the store. “You shouldn’t have worked today,” she told Thad, looking at him as if something profound and complete was to now be said.

“It’s better that I worked,” Thad said, watching Seth and Ernie stop to light cigarettes before they shambled down the street and out into the dark country.

“It wasn’t right for you to.”

Thad tried to chuckle. “Grandpa was a hard worker. He would’ve liked that I came right back to work. The last thing Grandpa wanted around was lazy people.”

“You should stay home and grieve for a time.”

“There’s been plenty of time for that. Every day was work, work, work with him. He would’ve liked it that I came in.” Thad opened the register to count the money. “He would’ve been angry if I was laid up at the house crying with the rest of them. Even when I was a kid and hanging about the house on Saturday morning, he would come in and say what I was doing eating pancakes when I could go mow the lawn or clean out the rain gutters or whatever else.” Thad nodded to himself, liking how the money felt in his head. “If you believe he’s watching over the world now in heaven, then you’d know he’s happy I came for my shift.”

“I still feel bad on it,” Rosemarie said, eyeing Daisy down the way.

She walked down. “Thad said it was a nice service. A lot of family came for it.”

“There was no point for them too,” Thad mumbled.

“Well, everyone loved your grandpa. I know Reverend Colvin did.”

“I don’t know why he bothered.”

 “Reverend Colvin loves everyone in town,” Daisy said as she took the broom and began to sweep. “He doesn’t care that you don’t go to church.”

“I know,” Thad said, gripping the money and rhythmically rapping it against the counter. “I only feel bad that he made the effort.”

“Don’t feel bad for something like that,” Rosemarie said, trying to laugh.

“Well, they’d gotten drunk during the service and were arguing when I was coming into work. I only feel bad.” He coughed, putting the money in the lock-safe below the counter. “Seth was saying they’d made Chinese Pie for dinner. Just leftovers.”

He jerked his head to them, wondering if they would ask if he wanted to come for dinner. Daisy was sweeping and Rosemarie was staring down at her fingers. Thad stayed a moment longer, then went out into the back alley.

The alley jutted against the main road, so that he couldn’t see anyone passing as he stood against the wall for a smoke. It was nice of Rosemarie to say all those hopeful things and to pretend like she wanted to go out for the service. She was the nicest girl he’d ever met and always made it seem like she cared very much about him. He wondered if she would ask him over for dinner.  There wasn’t anything better than a homecooked meal at the Trotter’s. He liked talking baseball with Mr. Trotter and Mrs. Trotter always asked him on his grades.

“I don’t know if they’ll be Chinese Pie left,” he mumbled, going inside and clapping the cold from his hands. “It’s probably gone by now. I hate Chinese Pie anyways.”

Rosemarie was helping her sister wash out the coffee cannisters. “I’m sure they’ll save a little for you.” Her arms were elbow-deep in soapy dishwater.

Thad organized the receipts for the following morning and checked over Daisy’s cleaning and then went to turn off the lights. “I’m glad it’s over with,” he mumbled as he put on his coat and hat. “Everyone had to be on their good behavior when our family came. It was strange, with everyone talking so politely, saying, ‘please’ and ‘thank you.’” He grinned.

“Your grandpa would be proud that his whole family came up.”

Thad shook his head. “He probably wouldn’t have cared.”

“Don’t say it,” Daisy mumbled.

“They never visited him much. They came because they felt obligated.”

“It’s a big deal that everyone took the time,” Rosemarie said, fixing her sister’s scarf around her neck. “I’m sure they wanted to. Reverend Colvin wouldn’t have missed it for the world. He always liked your grandpa. He told me he was ‘salt of the earth.’”

“Reverend Colvin always has nice things to say about people.”

“Well, he wasn’t lying,” Rosemarie said. “Everyone loved your grandpa. It’s a big loss for the town. Even this morning, I went down to the Dunkin’ Donuts and I was thinking that something was missing. And there was. A whole bunch of those old men were sitting in the back like usual and your grandpa wasn’t there, reading the paper.”

“I know,” Thad said, his head bowed.

Rosemarie waited for him to say something more before sighing. “I know Reverend Colvin cared.” She exchanged a look with Daisy. “I bet he’ll mention your grandpa at church.”

Thad shrugged. “Reverend Colvin was good to have come out. He didn’t have to.”

They were waiting under the awning when he came out after finishing the accounting and locked the doors. He made sure to check everything twice before turning and walking with them down the main street, past the grocery and Free Grace Church, through town square to the eastern side of town where the Trotter’s lived.

“You don’t have to walk us all the way,” Rosemarie whispered.

“I’m in the mood to. Hey, why don’t we go ice skating tomorrow?”

“We’ll have church.”

“After church?”

“You’ll probably want to be home with your family,” Rosemarie said.

“No, it’ll all be over by tonight. Everything will go back to normal.”

“Maybe you can go take your grandma out for lunch or something.”

“I could,” Thad said, as they turned down the street of small, neat houses. Everything was sparkling with Christmas lights. “That would be a nice thing to do.”

“She would like it, your aunt too.”

“We have church tomorrow and then we’ll probably have to stay inside to do homework,” Daisy said for her sister. “Mom always makes us.”

Thad swallowed. “Maybe I could come by after your church to say hello.” He didn’t like the soft inflection in his voice, and he cleared his throat. “I’ll see you Monday at school then.”

“Make sure you tell them how sorry we are and if we can do anything,” Rosemarie said. “You shouldn’t go to school on Monday if you don’t feel like it.”

“No, you shouldn’t,” Daisy agreed.

“I’ll be there,” Thad grinned, lingering.

“You should take some time,” Rosemarie said. “I know how much he meant to you.”

“He was a hardworking man,” Thad said. He didn’t know why he’d said it and looked down at his hands. “Grandpa wouldn’t have liked it if we sat around too much crying over him.”

“I always liked him,” Daisy said. “I’ve been thinking on him a lot.”

“Me too,” Rosemarie said.

“Every time the door opens at the mart I expect it’s him, coming for a roast beef sandwich and a cream soda like always.”

“He was so proud that you worked, Thad.”

“I know.” 

“But you don’t want to work too hard.”

“No, work never hurt me.” He tried to smile.

“I’m about sorrier than anyone, Thad,” Rosemarie said, as she turned with her sister.

As they went up their walk, Mrs. Trotter showed in the window.

He waited until he’d crossed town and was out in the country before he had a cigarette. He got past the tributary spilling into Wilson Pond and saw the flickering lights of the farmhouse across the black plain. They’d be drunk when he got home, and there likely wouldn’t be any dinner left. He was almost afraid that he was going to get drunk too. Maybe last year, he would’ve done so. For a long while, there was nothing he liked more than getting drunk. But girls like the Trotter’s never would do anything like that, and soon he’d stopped too. That’s been around when Rosemarie first took a liking in him and he always had a funny, lightheaded feeling. She didn’t like him as much as he did her, but there was nothing to do about that. Dad and Ulysses had made fun of him for thinking that she had. Once they graduated this spring, she would go off to college and they wouldn’t see each other anymore. He wouldn’t get to marry her but there were others, long as he was serious and resolute and saved his money.

Thad came up to the house from the side and peered through the front windows. He could see his dad marching back and forth, a cigarette between his hands. Uncle Ulysses was where Reverend Colvin had sat that morning, a bottle of whiskey on his knee. Seth drank a beer. Ernie leaned against the wall, laughing as Dad stormed. Things had been quiet when the family had been here, but now they talked as they wanted. As Thad gripped the doorknob, Dad shouted for Aunt Joan to get the shortbread. She went past him with the shortbread, her shoulders slumped.

“Drinking like you are!” she told them. “They were going to stay another night.”

“They could if they wanted,” Dad said. “They didn’t want to be here.”

“They did. They were going to stay. They would’ve done so if you acted right.”

“Who cares what they want or don’t? I do what I want,” Dad told her.

“You should’ve acted better, not like trash.”

“You’re trash same as us.”

“I’m not.”

“You are.” Dad grinned, opening another beer.

Thad stepped further into the foyer. Ernie shuffled slowly past him with a staggered look in his eyes. His shirt was undone and he gave him a fuzzy look of near unrecognition. Joan touched his arm as she passed and Thad watched her through the hall, she and Grandma talking.

“Thad’s home,” Ulysses laughed. “Get in here, young man!”

“Thaddeus?” Dad stepped out, looking him up and down. “Come have a drink.”

Thad was still, watching their shadows dance on the yellow walls. “You can’t keep sending them to buy beer. They’re not old enough. I’ll get fired.”

“Then you’ll get another job,” Dad said.

“It’s not right, Dad.”

“You don’t need that store.”

“I’m not going to get fired. I’m not selling it to them anymore.” He turned into the kitchen, trying not to hate them so much. “I’m not getting fired.”

“The Chinese Pie is gone,” Grandma said. “Seth said you were with Rosemarie.”

“There might be some turkey for a sandwich,” Aunt Joan said, looking sorry.

“That’s alright. I’m not hungry.”

“Even Seth is drunk,” Uncle Ulysses called. “Get on in here. Remember the old man with a drink. We’ll have a toast for him.”

“I wish we had something for you,” Grandma said. She was drinking coffee and looking straight ahead at the worn dinner table. “With all the people here, we don’t have much.”

“I’m not hungry,” Thad said, knowing to smile. “I’m too tired.”

“You’re working too hard.”

“No, I’m not. Not even close.” He grinned, hard and earnest as he could make it.

“Always going around with his head down,” Dad shouted. “Come in. Have a shot.”

“We told you to get in here.” Uncle Ulysses laughed.

Dad came past him into the kitchen, the cigarette hanging limply from his lips. Thad stood tall and curled his hands. But Dad went past him as if he wasn’t there and made himself a cup of coffee and whiskey. Thad released his breath. He didn’t think he should be afraid anymore, but sometimes he wasn’t sure.

“That’s not any job for you,” his dad mumbled. “Who cares if you get fired?”

“He works hard at the place,” Grandma said. “He can’t be getting fired.”

Dad shrugged. “You should have a drink with us, to honor your grandpa.”

“I’m going to bed.”

“You don’t have any right going to bed. Don’t be acting like you’re better than us.” He teetered and reached out his hand, but he only ruffled Thad’s hair and then went back into the room, puffing smoke. “Got to get up early for work, I guess.”

“You should’ve gone over to Rosemarie’s tonight,” Grandma whispered.

“They said I should come home and be with you.” Thad smiled. “I’m glad I did.”

“That’s nice of them to say you should come home,” Grandma said.

“Yes, they’re nice girls.” Thad smiled without realizing it. “I’ll see them Monday.”

“You’re such a romantic.” Aunt Joan brought him coffee.

“I can’t help but to be. Pretty soon I won’t see them at all.”

“I was hoping Rosemarie might stick around.”

“She’s going to school in Vermont,” Thad told her. He was sorry to have said it, but it was best they knew what he was thinking. “She’s thrilled for it.”

Aunt Joan nodded and made for Grandma more coffee with extra sugar.

“Goddammit! You come in and have a drink,” Dad shouted. “What are you doing in there? Sitting with the woman? Crying? The way you act, you might even be my son. To think your grandpa died and all you do is weep and moan on how sad it is. And then you’ll go to work and feel bad for yourself, for your girlfriend too because she doesn’t love you so much. On the day your grandpa died?” Dad stood in the hall. He laughed as he rocked slowly from his heels to his toes. “Yeah, and he’s up there laughing at you. Working like a dog. Worrying about being fired.” He howled with laughter. “What a funny world he left behind.”

Hunter Prichard is a writer residing in Portland, Maine.

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