Tears For The Dead
By Bill Butler
Robert sat in a booth of a small cafe. With his back to the wall and one leg propped in the seat, he sipped on a cup of coffee. His hair was long and pulled into a single ponytail which hung just below the collar of his jacket, and he was badly in need of a shave.
"Yo, Robbie."
Robert was the only one of the dozen or so patrons that did not glance up at the man who stood just inside the cafe's doorway. The new arrival was tall and lean. He wore a suit made to let others know how expensive it was.
While raised in American, Norman Felsenbrunnen was German born and had only returned to his native Berlin within the past year. In that year he traveled to and from the city on not fewer than twenty occasions. Each time had been to see Robert.
He grinned widely as he strode toward the back wall where Robert continued to give his attention to his drink. Norman slid into the seat across the table and leaned back.
"Well?" Robert asked, still refusing to look at the other man.
"You know, Robbie," Norman sighed, "that's what I've always liked about you. You cut right to the heart of the matter. No need for unimportant things like greetings or inquires of health or even a 'nice weather we're having.' Just business all the way."
Robert chewed on his lip for a moment, the coffee cup hovering just above the plane of the tabletop. Finally, he lowered the cup and met Norman's gaze.
"Nice weather we're having." He remarked. "Now. What did you find out?"
"Well." Norman's smile dropped away. "There's good news and there's bad news."
Robert was starting to become annoyed. Rather than comment, he simple continued to stare across the table at his friend with an expression of agitation.
"Okay." Norman took the hint. "The good news first. I was able to get you the job. The bad news is that all we had was a security slot at the corporate headquarters.
Robert looked puzzled.
"What's wrong with that?"
"About four months ago we were acquired by a Japanese firm, and they reestablished us in Dallas."
"Damn!" Robert mouthed quietly.
"Yeah." Norman agreed. After a long silence he added. "It's been a long time, Robbie."
"Not long enough." Robert shook his head and frowned.
"People forget." Norman countered.
"No." Robert sat around straight in the seat. "Some things can't be forgotten. They killed my wife."
"Yeah. And you killed half a dozen of them in return. But like I said, it's been a long time. Hell, nobody'd even recognize you now. I say you oughta give it a shot. What's the worse that could happen?"
"I could wind up dead." Robert growled.
"If they'd wanted you that bad..." Norman went on.
"...they would have found you already. I think...."
"Don't think, Norman. It's not one of your strong points."
"Hey." It was Norman's turn to show agitation. "I'm tryin' to help. I could just walk the hell outta here, you know."
Robert grabbed his cup again and finished the last of the coffee. When it was obvious he was not intending to reply, Norman continued.
"It's been five years, man. Nobody's come lookin' for you. Nobody's even asked about you. Now you can stay here and rot away or you can take me up on my offer. Try to crawl outta this whole you've been livin' in for so many years. Now, what's it gonna be?"
"Let me think about."
"You don't have time." Norman shook his head. "Your flight leaves in two hours."
Robert almost smiled.
"Got everything planned? Don't you?"
"Hey." Norman raised his hands. "What can I say? I'm thorough."
Robert's resolve began to crumble.
"Do I have time to pack some things?"
Norman grinned.
"Already got two suit cases in the car and there's a wardrobe of new clothes waitin' for you at your apartment in Dallas."
"Pretty sure of yourself."
"You got it." Norman passed a small manila envelope across the table. "You got a new name to."
Robert opened the envelope and sifted through the papers, including a passport. He opened it.
"Mickey Roberts?" He asked.
"Hey." Norman shrugged. "I gotta be able to call you Robbie, don't I?"
"Okay." Robert gave in. "I'll do it."
He tucked the passport into a jacket pocket, stood and scooped up the other items from the tabletop. Norman stood and pushed his hands into his trouser pockets, and the two men started toward the door. When they were outside they walked to a Mercedes limousine parked at the curb. Norman opened the back door and motioned for Robert to precede him.
Robert stopped and turned to his friend.
"I take it you've already got my itinerary planned for when we get to Dallas."
"Yeah." Norman looked puzzled. "Why do you ask?"
"When we set down, I wanna go straight from the airport to the cemetery."
Norman's face went slack and the color drained away. He lowered his head.
"That's right. You left before we buried her." He tried to find a smile. "Okay, guy. No problem."
Fourteen hours passed before their plane landed at the Dallas Fort Worth airport. An hour and a half later they stood in a light ran over a gravesite. It was a quarter past one in the morning and both men were in need of rest.
"Yo, Robbie," Norman almost whispered. "I'm goin' back to the car."
"I won't be long." Robert answered.
"No, guy," Norman's voice became even more solemn. "You take as long as you need. I'm serious."
"Thanks."
"No problem." Norman's eyes began to water. "And welcome home."
He moved off toward the Mercedes limousine that waited with its motor running and Robert turned his attention to the grave marker.
"I'm sorry, honey." He muttered. "Oh God I'm sorry. I should have listened to you and maybe this wouldn't have happened."
He lowered himself to the wet ground and knelt in front of the headstone. He reached forward and touched the carved letters that spelled his wife's name.
"Hell, I never even had a chance to say goodbye."
He lowered his head and closed his eyes. The rain felt good; cool and wet; carried on a soft breeze that rustled leaves in the treetops. He raised his head, closed his eyes and let the rain fall on his face to mingle with his tears.
"I'm home, Lauren." He sobbed. "I'm home."
THE END
