Picnic to Fiesta

“Holy crap! I thought you died! I mean, like, years ago. You look great for a really old dead girl.”

That’s how it started. I was alone in my bedroom on my comfortable bed when something awakened me. A noise, a shift in the air, a variation in the light, I don’t know. In truth, it doesn’t matter. I was awake. Letitia was radiant and gorgeous standing in the corner looking at me. Who cares?

I hadn’t seen her in years. That had a lot to do with her dying in a car wreck and me assisting the priest at her funeral. It was an open-casket affair, and I thought they had overdone her makeup. You know how it is: a white guy at the funeral home making up an olive-skinned beauty. White standards don’t always work right.

And here she was. Gorgeous, no makeup I could discern. Long black tresses flowing. Heck, I think she looked better than she did all those years ago. Before the funeral.

Come to think of it, I was feeling pretty good, pretty alert. I must admit it was confusing to see her there. But so what? Here we are with what we have.

“So, what are we going to do, Letitia? You standing there so pretty and so quiet and me laying here in my pajamas admiring you so pretty and quiet. What do you propose we do?”

Her smile made me smile. It seemed to light up the whole room, which was already well-lit with the early morning sun shining through the sheer curtains.

“Well, I propose you get up, clean up, get dressed and let’s get out of this place. We can go for a stroll and enjoy this day together.”

“I can’t do any of that until you get out of here. Why don’t you go wait for me in the living room? It’s down the hall to the right; you can’t miss it. Any doubts, just look for the couch and recliner and TV and fireplace.”

She retorted, “Instead of all that walking and hunting, I could just lay right here and wait for you to come out of the shower all naked and clean.”

“Oh, no, you don’t. I haven’t seen you in years. I don’t know what kind of pervert you may have become. You just go on and I’ll be out in less than half an hour. Now, git!”

“Okay, you old spoil sport. I’m gone.”

With that, she went over to my closed bedroom door and went through it to the hall. She didn’t open it; she went through it.

Curious.

Never mind, I went ahead and shaved, brushed my teeth and showered up. I got all duded up in my retirement business casual attire: sandals, shorts and a collared pullover shirt. Then, I went through my bedroom door in the usual manner and headed for the living room.

She came up off that couch like she was spring-loaded. Her hair even bounced a little. I did not notice if anything else bounced, I might add.

I started with, “So, where do you want to go? How far? Is there something or someone you want to see?”

“Jacob, I want to get out of this place. I want to stroll down Extension Road over to whatever that street is called at the next light and stroll up it to the park where we can sit and watch birds flit from tree to tree, and jets fly high leaving cottony contrails against that robin’s-egg-blue palette. We can visit with each other and anyone else who strolls by. Sound like fun?”

“It does, but I have two issues. Can we stop and get some croissants and coffee for the trip? And, going that way, it’s five miles to the park. That’s kind of a long ways.”

“Jacob, don’t be silly. We should stop at that deli you like and get warm, extra buttery croissants and coffee. I’ll get that hazelnut creamer in my coffee, and you can do whatever it is you do nowadays with yours. As far as you whimpering about a five-mile stroll, it’s a stroll! Neither of us has anything else to do today nor anywhere else to be. If we want, we can skip and flirt and wave to passersby to pass the time and just enjoy ourselves.

“And, by way of returning your earlier compliment, you’re not bad looking for a guy who’s a jillion years old. Now, let’s go!”

With that she gave me an almost gentle push toward the door. I unlocked the deadbolt, slid back the barrel bolt and turned the knob lock and got the door open before she could go through it. The little poop tricked me; she went through the wall next to the door frame and stood outside with her resolve-melting smile.

Outside, I turned to lock up. She started with, “You don’t have to lock it again, Jacob. No one will bother your stuff and besides it’ll take too long. You’ve got me starving for that croissant. Let’s go!”

So, we went. Me, violating every security protocol every urban dweller has ingrained into their soul. She, grabbing my left hand with her soft warm right hand, giving me a most non-stroll-like yank and pulling me three steps before I regained my balance. Once I caught my balance, she smiled at me and said, “Now we’re strolling.”

And we were. Strolling south on the sidewalk, facing traffic, she was smiling, waving at passing cars, and swinging my left arm back and forth with that adolescent exuberance every adult finds irritating.

At the park, I commented, “Letitia, this is nice. My coffee’s just right, my croissant is yummy and flaky and buttery. This breeze is perfect; the sky is just as you described it and those silly birds are twittering like fools at a political rally. Even this picnic bench is comfortable.

“You look like you’re enjoying that cup of adulterated coffee. Don’t deny it; you knew I was going to comment on ruining a perfect cup of black coffee. And are you really enjoying that croissant as much as your smile makes me think you are?”

“Silly man, of course I’m enjoying my croissant. Who wouldn’t? And as far as my coffee is concerned, it’s sublime no matter what your snobby opinion might be.”

She continued, “I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself. But now, suddenly, you look puzzled. What’s up?”

“Well, looking around, I don’t remember how we got here. I don’t remember going to the deli or ordering our treats. And, checking my pockets, I don’t have my wallet, so I couldn’t have paid for it. In truth, I’m getting a little nervous here.”

“Don’t get nervous or upset, Jacob. That would defeat the purpose of a stroll and a picnic in the park. I took care of acquiring our treats.

“And we’re here. We discussed the route we’d take and we took it. And we enjoyed it. And we flirted with each other although I think I did most of the flirting; you seemed a bit rusty at it.”

“So, what are you telling me? Did we teleport here or do something just as weird? Did I miss something here?”

“No, Jacob, you didn’t miss anything. We’re here enjoying ourselves. That’s enough for now. Let’s change the subject and talk about the last few years.”

“What is there to talk about? You’ve been dead, remember? I assisted at your funeral, and it was a lovely affair. You should have seen it. You didn’t see it did you?”

“No, Jacob, I was gone; I didn’t see it.”

“Letitia, you would have loved it. There were at least two dozen floral arrangements. I mean, big floral arrangements that took up most of the altar area. Incense filled the church; that stuff always smells so pretty. The church was standing room only.

The priest gave quite the stirring homily. He had about twenty or thirty people sobbing over the loss of ‘Letitia, our parish’s most special gift from God.’ That’s what he called you.

“The funeral procession to the cemetery seemed to take a week and a half because there were so many cars and trucks. You would’ve gotten a kick out of it!

“Graveside, more tributes from Father and your friends and family. Final good-byes, your coffin lowered, handfuls of dirt tossed in, all very dramatic and heart stirring.

“Back to the parish hall for your farewell fiesta. I’m surprised you didn’t get more company on your side of the Veil from those of us who steadfastly practiced gluttony. The food was muy deliciosa!

“You would have had a heck of a good time, my dear friend. Everyone talked about how they would miss you forever; even the sober ones said that.”

“That was sweet, Jacob. Did you miss me?”

“I don’t remember. I know I was kind of sad, but I don’t know if that was because everyone was sad or if I had a special reason. I’m sorry, I just don’t remember. I’m not even sure if I knew you before the funeral.”

“Jacob, don’t fret about it. Enjoy your croissant and that cup of bilge water. Look at that bird chasing a bug! Isn’t that amazing the way it twists and turns and bobs up and down so fast?

“Jacob, you’re okay. Just enjoy our picnic and the sun and the day. This is a great day! We get to visit. So, what else do you want to talk about the last few years? What about our fun times?”

“Letitia, again, you’ve been dead. Remember we just talked about that whole funeral thing?”

She responded, “I know all that. But, what else? What else have you done to smile about since then? That’s only been a little while, you know.”

“‘A little while’? Are you nuts? That was at least a decade ago! And smiling? I smile at the daylight, at the moon, the stars. The way the sunlight creeps across the land from west to east as the sun rises and how it slides back from east to west as it sets. The colors and hues of the light as it changes throughout the day.The little kindnesses people show me wherever I go. The fact that whenever my body aches, all I have to do is get up and walk awhile and the aches go away.

“Being with you makes me smile. The flakes from my croissant dusting my shirt with each bite and the chocolaty-bitter taste of my bilge water as you call it. Knowing that my prayers are answered even if I have to wait years for results. All that makes me smile. What about you?”

“Well, as you pointed out a few times, I’ve been elsewhere recently. But in the past, all those things that you mentioned used to strike me as smile-able events. Generally, waking up, feeling good, going to a job I loved, helping all those people, coming home and resting, all made me smile. Being with my love and loved ones always delighted me. Heck, even sitting here watching you drink that swill makes me smile.

“Seeing people and interacting with them tickles my fancy. For example, see that guy walking over there at the edge of the park? What do you want to bet that he is going to come over here and want to talk to us?”

“This is a public urban park. There are lots of homeless people and I’ll take your bet. He will probably want us to buy him coffee or use some other ruse to get us to give him money. And don’t forget, I don’t have my wallet so you will have to pay him.”

“Deal. Why, hello, Sir! Would you like to have a seat and share some of my friend’s coffee? I’m afraid he didn’t have enough sense to put cream or sugar in it, but he seems to enjoy it anyway.”

“That’s very generous of you, Lettie. Offering poor Jacob’s coffee to a stranger like that. Does he have a clue yet?”

“Whoa, wait a minute! What is this guy, a ringer so you could win an easy bet? And why in the world is he hugging you and how does he know your name?”

Letitia started, “My bad, I’m sorry. Wayne meet Jacob, Jacob meet Wayne. And, Wayne, he has no clue.”

“No clue about what? Wait, Wayne, do I know you? You seem familiar like I used to know you really well, but I can’t quite remember.”

“Jacob, it’s okay. And just for the record, Lettie knew who I was long ago. I guess I am a ringer. I hope you didn’t bet much.

“Things change when you die. For example, the last time you saw me was long before Lettie’s funeral. I don’t look like that guy anymore. He was old old and crippled pretty bad.

“But years before that, I stood as your best man and father at your wedding to an absolutely lovely woman I always knew as Lettie.”

“Ahhh, now I see. Why all this drama and mystery, Letitia?”

“Like your dad said, things change when you die. I, we, wanted your transition to be a smile.

“Can you smile about all this? We’re all glad you’re joining us on our journey.”

“With you, I can smile more than I have in a long time. Thanks for coming.”

And, thus, that picnic evolved into a bigger fiesta.