The Misadventures of the Laundry Hag 00 - Skeletons in the Closet

too far gone for comfort.
    A car pulled up to the curb behind my van. The lyrics to Queen’s Another One Bites the Dust blared, and I laughed out loud. A sickeningly appropriate song for the horror of my life.
    The engine stopped, and the lyrics faded into the night. Boots appeared in my field of vision, paint-spattered work boots.
    “It was a choice between that and Skynyrd’s That Smell, ” Marty informed me.
    “You’re such an ass.”
    “I made you laugh, though. I figured you needed one. Coop would have wanted you to laugh.”
    My throat seized up at the mention of his name. I didn’t want to talk about Coop. “Where’s Neil?”
    “He’s at home with the boys. He doesn’t know yet; none of them do.”
    “So how did you find out?”
    Marty jerked his thumb toward the house next door. The lady with the pink curlers peered through her shutters at us. “She called Mrs. Morgan, who called the house, and I happened to answer. I told Neil I had a date so I could keep his opinion of me at rock bottom where it belongs.”
    “Thanks, Sprout, you’re a good guy.”
    “Hey, even the lowlife brother has to come through once in a while. Besides, I spilled the last beer on the white couch so I owe both you and Neil.”
    Marty ushered me to his car, and I stared blindly out the window while the windshield wipers squeaked rhythmically as they fought the downpour. Marty inserted the key and cranked the heat. The interior of his car smelled like sour armpits and mildewed socks. He retrieved my jacket and cleaning supplies from the house and locked up the van.
    “I don’t think I’ll ever be able to drive that van again,” I told him as he backed away from the vehicle in question.
    “Neil will be happy to hear that.”
    I rested my head against the seat. “You could have told him, you know. He wouldn’t freak out. Neil can handle any crisis.”
    “Just because he can doesn’t mean he always has to. I left him in the dark; he’s having fun with the boys while I transport the pieces back to him. Then he can take over, put Humpty Dumpty back together again with all his blazing SEAL glory.”
    Marty couldn’t have chosen a better allegory; I did feel like I’d survived a great fall. “All the King’s Horses and all the King’s Men….”
    “Weren’t Navy SEALs. Nursery rhymes aside, I’ve seen you two in action, there isn’t anything you can’t overcome.”
    As my throated clogged with emotion for the second time in twenty minutes, I’d definitely said enough. I listened to the rain pound the roof of the Chevy and watched the streetlights pass as we drove down Manning Street on our way to Blossom.
    We pulled up in front of the house, and I stared in dismay at the front window. “We haven’t put the Christmas tree up yet. We always put the tree up the day after Thanksgiving!”
    “So, you put the tree up late, big deal.” Marty rolled his eyes and shut off the car. He didn’t get it. It was a big deal. Neil and I always put the tree up the day after Thanksgiving. Even that year when the oven caught fire while it was self-cleaning and we had to evacuate for a few hours while the smoke cleared out, even that year, we set the tree up. It was a tradition, one I carried on whether Neil was home or not, because tradition is important to a family. The boys needed to know that no matter where we lived or what was going on, some things never changed.
    But I hadn’t put the tree up. I’d neglected the tradition and let my family down.
    Just like I’d let Coop down.
    “Oh shit!” Marty jumped from the car as I erupted into a bawling meltdown, complete with fist banging on the dashboard. I screamed and sobbed while my hair flew everywhere as I bucked the car like a lunatic, too distraught to stop.
    My voice grew hoarse by the time Neil came out into the rain and extracted me from the car. Marty watched with a mixture of concern and wariness in his eyes, and I turned my head into Neil’s soggy sweatshirt, too ashamed of myself to face my baby brother.
    Neil carried me into the bedroom and stripped me to my skin then tucked me into bed. He didn’t say a word, just hugged me to him, sharing his body heat and silently dispelling my grief. I sniffled a few times before I sank into a dreamless sleep.

    * * * *
    I found Marty and Neil having coffee in the kitchen the next morning. Rain slapped at the windows with an even greater intensity than it had the night before, and a somber and almost surreal