Tracy died on Monday. The family gathered on Tuesday. Everyone had been out of work sometime in the last six months taking care of Tracy so even when they all pooled their money together, along with whatever money they had from Derrick after buying the headstone, they were just under a hundred.
“At least dad already bought our plots,” Natasha, the youngest, had not perfected the finer points of etiquette yet. She was still weeding her way through tenth grade the second time. The plots were real; however, as Johnny purchased the plots on his way out of town to Vegas. Seems he knew that no one would pony up a penny to bury him if things went south and if not, well, anyone would really care why.
“Said it was suppose to rain Thursday night,” someone chimed in so the plan was set for Friday morning to go as family to dig Tracy’s grave. Til then, everyone took shifts filling Tracy’s box with ice cubes, keeping the body as cold and non-putrid as possible.
Derrick arrived Friday morning, early. Moans and disgusted disappoints filled the room.
“Why’d you even bother?” Derrick didn’t notice anyone else, just Tracy’s body, shriveled, glowing yellow in a bed of cold water. Derrick tried to lay hands on Tracy but the smell was too overwhelming. After a brief stint in the fresh air, Derrick returned.
“Why is Tracy decomposing in the living room?”
“Figured we replay those Indians back for all that curry they use.” The room came to live with laughter. Derrick didn’t laugh. He had not grown delusional from the days spent with the family in enclosed quarters.
“I sent you plenty of money for a funeral home. They couldn’t all be full.”
“We got a headstone.” The room clamored to show off their perfect choice of a headstone. Nikki pulled the picture from underneath her sleeping spot on the couch and handed it over. Derrick did not look impressed.
“How are we putting him in the ground?”
Everyone took separate cars to the gravesite. Parting ways as fast as possible was the theme of the decision. With the few extra bucks left over after Tracy’s headstone, the family sent Allen to get some digging tools. He and Nikki had met after he got out of jail for a three-year spell. The family figured he had at least plotted to break out at some point, with all that extra time and all, so it reasoned that he would have some kind of idea how to put holes into solid objects. Derrick surveyed the utensils. The pickaxe and shovel were solid choices but the auger seemed a little unuseful.
“I’ll get things loosened up for you,” Derrick tossed a rock in Allen’s general direction to get his attention, “and you start shoveling it out.”
“No way man,” Allen leaned back into his hand into his lower back.
“I didn’t know you were expecting.” Allen looked confused. Derrick only gave him one chance to put the puzzle pieces together; he would not repeat. Derrick was stuck with Cory. He was Tracy’s friend. No one had heard him say anything in days. “Fuck then kid, come on.”
Derrick pounded the ground with the pickaxe for a while, got out of the way, then Cory stepped in. For a little kid, he had resilience in spades. He only cried when he caught a glimpse of Tracy sitting in the bed of Derrick’s truck. By mid day, the family was tired from watching the grave being dug. They took Cory and set up for a picnic.
“Don’t worry, I’ll just keep working so we can get this done.” Derrick felt it necessary to say even though the family had wandered away a while ago, it made the situation at least a bit more tolerable. Derrick knew everyone else had given their lives up trying to take care of Tracy after he got cancer. Digging the grave was the least Derrick could do. At least that’s what everyone said right before lunch. No one cared to ask where Derrick had been and why he had been a ghost since last Christmas. God forbid he got a job and was going to community college. Thinking about it got Derrick going, he was going so hard the dirt began to break apart on its own. These motherfuckers didn’t know how hard he to work to get above their shitty legacy. They could rotate off working at Golden Chick or Jack in the Box and pay for their two-bedroom house that held ten. Derrick needed space, at least to see if he could be his own man. Derrick knew Tracy understood and knew that if he didn’t get him in the ground soon, all that good will would be gone. Who the hell wants to sit in ice cubes for a week after they die?
“Are you sure its deep enough?” The family had gotten out of the a/c’d car to see how Derrick was going.
“Do you want to measure it?” Derrick was on cup two of water. He had not realized how out of shape he was until he dug a five-foot deep grave for his baby brother. “Can you at least handle getting him into the hole? I’ve got to get something to eat.”
“Of course,” the family joined in unison, “we left the food under the tree for you.”
So Derrick headed up to the tree for a rest. Of course, by the time he had finally made it up the embankment, the sun had changed positions and put the food directly into the sun’s path and taken the tree’s shade away. Derrick looked into the cooler. At least the only thing the sun was warming up with some left over chips and a couple of pickles. Derrick grabbed what he could and leaned against the tree. He regretted his eye line almost instantly. It was too easy to clearly see the family trying to get Tracy out of the truck without touching his box. They finally deduced the best technique was to drive the truck in reverse at a decent clip and then slam on the brakes. The casket airborne. Somehow, it made it in the hole. So did the trucks back tires.
The next half hour was spent getting the truck out. Derrick used his body as a shield for Tracy. It almost cost him his life twice when Cory mistook drive for reverse and planted the truck deeper into the hole. The family decided the truck escapade was enough.
“If you need us to do anything, just give us a holler.” The family dispersed at once. Cory hung around with Derrick after, neither saying a word. Derrick filled back in the hole. Cory stared at the mound growing. Derrick patted Cory on the shoulder.
“Guess that’s over,” Cory packed up to leave, “here.” Cory handed Derrick a letter. Derrick read the signature first, Tracy. Then, he read the letter, standing on top of Tracy’s grave.

Dear Derrick,

You were my brother. You left the family. I died without you. You will never find forgiveness.

Love,
Tracy

Derrick dug back into the hole far enough to leave Tracy’s letter with him in the ground.