Untitled Serial - Pt. 1

The darkness was dissipating as dawn pushed it back to the farthest corner of the earth. It was the eternal struggle between light and dark on earth. The sun poured itself through the pine forests on the edge of town. The thin needles provided little shade for the animals below. The sun let them know that another night of hunting was over and it was time for them to retire to their forest homes. The heat was beginning to rise; but that is not to say that it was not hot already. Even the nighttime provided little relief in the dead of the Florida summer. The humidity never left the land. Sweaty summer nights were typical for the residents of Hodgetown.
On this particular morning, the mood of the town was especially miserable. The residents rose and dressed in black, filing into their cars and piling into the streets. As cement gave way to cobblestone drives, stone markers in perfect rows and column lined the pristinely-managed grass. Along with the Australian pined paper mulberries, nothing was natural about the cemetery's landscape except the ultimate finality of life.
The funeral was short. It was how Adam Elam would have wanted it. He was a simple man of strong principles. Those who knew him admired his candid nature and honesty. Adam was known as an open book and people usually liked what they read. The closest friends of Adam would note his good listening ability and his reservation to speak without a purpose. Adam always liked to use few words where an average man would use many. Excessiveness was the antonym for Adam Elam.
Adam left behind a wife, Evelyn, and three boys. Evelyn was a mild-mannered woman who dedicated her life to her family. Her three boys, from oldest to youngest, were Seth, Edward, and Tab. Seth and Edward flew in to attend the funeral. They both worked abroad for non-profit organizations. However, Tab was the native son. He never dreamed of leaving home. He considered himself lucky to be born in such a beautiful state.
“Best damn state in the union!” Tab would boost to anyone who would care to listen. While the other sons took after their father, Tab was never one to be reserved. He was brash and careless with his words and deeds. The idea of conservative to Tab was a six pack instead of a twelve. When Tab was in his purest form, he liked to pick fights at the bar or with a police officer. On one occasion, Tab put a brick through a patrol car’s window just to see if the “pig could run like the greased one’s at a redneck carnival.” The wild lifestyle found Tab in jail on multiple occasions. At first, people thought he was just working out his craziness as a teenager. But when he hit twenty-three years and was just as foolhardy as he was at thirteen, people realized he might never buck the trend. According to Tab, “Life was made to be lived without laws.” It was a cliche he spouted while in handcuffs or in arraignment.
But when Tab found out about his father’s death, he reacted different than some might expect. About two years before, his lifelong idol and uncle, Jerry, died after being blindsided with a bottle of cheap whiskey during a fight at Skinny’s Bar. It wasn’t the bottle that did uncle Jerry in; it was the terrazzo floor that caused his head to crack like a coconut on contact. After Tab heard the news about uncle Jerry, he went on a four-day bender that involved half-a-dozen fights, a broken arm from crashing his Lincoln into a head shop, and a tattoo of his uncle’s portrait with the text “Fuckin’ American Hero” underneath it. The mourning finally ended when Tab passed out in the backyard of a local police officer while in search for a swimming pool. Luckily, the cop was an old classmate of Tab’s from grade school; the cop threw Tab in the drunk tank and left him there for two days to be sure of his sobriety. Tab’s father was a different story.
Evelyn Elam showed up at Shady Oaks Trailer Park about half past six to break the news to her youngest son. She was wearing the red and white floral pattern dress that Tab had given her for Christmas when he sixteen. Evelyn stood out on Tab’s beer-stained and cigarette-burned couch. The fact that the couch was in mint condition when Adam gave the couch to Tab when he moved into the trailer was the least of her concern.
“Tab, your daddy died of an aneurysm today.” Evelyn stated plainly. She knew Tab wasn’t one for dancing around the subject. Tab was busy mixing a post-work cocktail when he dropped his glass onto the once-white, now-beige rug.
“What?” Tab stumbled to say as his face expressed the shock of the statement he just heard.
“Your daddy’s gone.”
“An aneurysm?”
She nodded.
He took a seat next to his mother. The whiskey and coke was still soaking into the carpet. It didn’t matter. Not much matter at this point. Just every word that his mother was saying.
“The funeral is going to be Friday at eight. Your brothers are flying in.”
“Good. Dad will be...he would have been happy to see...it is good they are coming.”
“The wake is going to be at our house at eleven. I think your Aunt Mary and Uncle Josh are going to be organizing everything.”
“Good. That is very nice of them.”
The conversation continued much like it was working its way through rush hour traffic. And although the two did not notice, it was the most they had talked in since she and Adam dropped off the couch two years earlier.