haunted - 11

I greet his wife and she manages a whisper of a smile.
'Trey's clothes fit you?' she asks, and I'm uneasy cos I know too much about death. Even when people die, people you care about, it's nearly impossible if not totally impossible to ever think about them in past tense.
'Yes'm,' I say and thank her and I realize I'm starving cos it's been years since I've seen this much food, even longer since I had a home-cooked meal, cos of all the things I loved about Joey he was a disaster in the kitchen. He tried but it always ended up with take-out or delivery or sometimes fire trucks.
She's a damn good cook, too, almost as good as moms was, and I guess Officer figures it's okay to let me drink some wine. That takes some getting use to, cos I've never really had wine, this is red wine and it's a little sour but fuck it's free alcohol and pretty good. The roast she made is so tender and juicy and there's potatoes and onions on it, and then for dessert there's a damned good apple pie packed with cinnamon and sugar.
She starts to get up to clear the table but I insist on doing it and the dishes, it's the least I can do after being fed well like that. I hear them talking but not what they're saying, and after I'm done I wander out, drying my hands discreetly on the T-shirt out of habit.

Officer takes me into his library or study or whatever it is, a big old room with worn wood bookshelves and lots of books, and I talk him into more scotch.
'I need to warn the store to stock more,' he laughs.
He's got a lot of old books, lots of history books it seems about World War II, I'm not surprised to see he's got a lot of detective and mystery books and stuff.
He's quiet, I notice he's put on some sort of classical music and has his glasses on reading something.
'Whatcha reading?' I ask, feeling a little uncomfortable, like I fell into Sherlock Holmes' study or something.
'Just reports. It's my job, it never ends,' he says, laughing and taking the glasses off. 'Sit.'
I find a leather chair so big it almost swallows me whole, clumsily struggling to get comfortable, which makes him laugh.
'You know, I discussed it with Maddy,' he says, and I guess that's his wife.
'Huh?'
'We'd like to offer you Trey's room, help you get your life back together, if you want.'
That just hangs in the air like a cloud of poison gas, I mean, I figured that was what they were gonna say but hearing it out loud well I don't know how to feel about it. I mean, what's left to get together, there isn't a day where I don't wake up shivering and the first thought is always what it was like to wake up next to Joey, how nice that was, and the second thought is like fuck my life and wishing I'd just never wake up again.
I don't know what to say so I ask if it's okay for me to think about it and stay at least tonight, maybe tomorrow.
'Take your time,' he says. 'I understand how you must feel.'
Which does make me hesitate cos I know he prolly does understand some of how I feel and he's been good to me from the day a few years back where he stopped me from getting mugged by some thugs.
'Can you take me somewhere tomorrow?' I ask him and he says sure, where, but I don't think there's any way he doesn't know. Which is confirmed cos he just nods after a minute. He says he's tired and tells me where Trey's room is, to make myself comfortable and try not to drink all his scotch before I go to sleep.

I'm lying awake in Trey's bed staring at the band posters that cover most every wall. Most of them are bands I like, too, I think if I'd ever known Trey in life we prolly would've had stuff in common and maybe been friends. There's a bunch of photos around of him which is a bit weird feeling and I notice he never seems to be really smiling, a few he looks like he's trying but it never quite seems like the kid behind the smile is actually happy. I wonder what his life was like, wonder if he ever had good friends or found someone to love, wonder if his death was just a mistake or it was his way out of all the pain.