Terry and Gene 22

Three days later, Terry had sold most of her furniture and all of her jewelry. For the most part, only Jason's paintings remained. She had arranged to have him cremated along with the nude painting of her. She had dropped that off at the crematory that morning. The obituary was paid for and she had a picture of him printed along with it. The memorial service was going to be Saturday morning. Only two days away. Tomorrow she would pick up his ashes. For the service, she planned to have the paintings she owned on display alongside the pictures of him she had taken while they were together.

Her phone had rung frequently over the past three days, but she hadn't answered it unless it was someone calling her back about Jason. She didn't want to talk to Gene, Ann, or Jeannetta. She erased all of their voice mail messages without listening to them. She just wanted to get through this alone.

Saturday afternoon, she was sitting on her living room floor with Jason's ashes, crying, when someone pounded on her door.

"Terry? Terry! Are you in there?" Gene's voice was frantic.

"Go away," she whispered and continued to cry.

"Hey!" She heard Gene yell.

Moment's later, the knocking came again.

"Terry! It's Tony! Please open the door!"

"If I'm quiet, maybe they'll leave," she murmured to the urn.

Pounding again.

"Terry, please answer the door. In sixty seconds, I'll break it down."

"Ugh." She struggled to her feet. She staggered a little as she walked to the door. Her head felt disconnected from her body.

She unlocked the door, turned the handle and let them push the it open the rest of the way. She leaned against the wall behind it.

Tony walked in and stood in front of her, Gene on his heels.

Gene stepped around him and grabbed her shoulders. "Jesus Christ, Terry! Where have you been?"

"Here," Terry looked a him, feeling dead herself.

Gene looked at her dumbly. "What? Why haven't you answered your phone? What's wrong with you?" He shook her.

"Hey! Take it easy!" Tony said and grabbed Gene's shoulder.

He released her and clenched his fists. "Talk to me!" he yelled.

Terry felt the floodgates open and there was no stopping the torrent of words that came screeching out.

"He's dead! Jason is dead! Remember he said it would only take fifty dollars to get him where he wanted to go? Remember? He was wrong. It took a hundred. He loaded up on alcohol and killed himself. He was so swollen up, I couldn't even have a regular service for him because no one would have recognized him. Jason wanted to die and it only took a hundred dollar bill to get him there." Terry was screaming and waving her arms around. "All that time I spent loving him and taking care of him and you gave him exactly what he wanted in less than six hours. And while he was dying alone, I was sleeping with you!"

As she screamed the last sentence, Ann came rushing in.

"My god. Terry, what's going on?"

"She's blaming me," Gene said without emotion.

"You." Terry pointed at Ann. "You always said no good could come of it! Now he's dead and taking me to hell with him."

:"Jason's dead?"

"Yes!" She pushed herself away from the wall. Then she blinked. "It's getting dark in here," she said, but her voice sounded far away. Then the lights went out.