Goodbye, Edgar
Edgar stormed away from the funeral home without speaking to anyone.
Tom and Gene walked out of the room. Gene stopped Tom in the hallway.
“Are you okay?” Gene asked.
“Yeah, he’ll cool down,” Tom said.
“I’ve done these types of things for years,” Gene said. “Being left out of a will; well, some folks never recover. Prepare yourself, this may be the last time you’ll see your brother.”
“I hope not,” Tom said.
They walked back into the funeral area. The crowd began to thin out. They were heading to the grange for the meal.
Tom walked out to the car. Edgar sat in the passenger's seat.
Tom opened the door and slid in.
“Look, Edgar, we can work this all out.”
“You have nothing to do with it,” Edgar said spitefully. “Didn’t you hear? It’s all in the hands of a two-bit dime store lawyer. He can’t wait to rub it in to a Harvard lawyer.”
“Gene’s not like that,” Tom said. “He’s a good and honest man.”
“Look, Edgar,” Tom said. “I don’t want anything to come between us.”
“Oh, little Tommy Gun,” Edgar said, “you are so thick. We’ve never been together. There are seven years between us. The only thing we have in common is our genes. I have to admit, you got the good looks, but you never had a lick of sense.”
“You’re hurt,” Tom said. “I get it. I’d be hurt too.”
Edgar chuckled. “You wouldn’t be hurt. You’re incapable of being hurt. If it were you, you wouldn’t even know what happened in there. Hurt! It’s devastating! If it were you, you would just say,” Edgar mocked dullard-like, ‘Well, yup, let’s go out and pick some corn.’”
“What did you expect to happen?” Tom asked.
“I expected it would be fair,” Edgar said.
“And that would be?” Tom asked.
“Sell the farm and split it down the middle,” Edgar said.
“But mom had other ideas,” Tom said. “And to complicate things, you owed money. I had no idea.”
“Do you have any idea what that farm is worth?” Edgar asked.
“I haven’t even thought about it,” Tom said.
“Well over a couple hundred grand,” Edgar said.
“I didn’t know that,” Tom said.
“That’s it,” Edgar said, “you know nothing.”
“I know that you owe the farm money,” Tom said.
“Have fun holding that over my head,” Edgar said.
“I’m not,” Tom said. “It just seems that you’re talking down to me. You shouldn’t. A case can be made that you owe me big time. I worked up until midnight and went to school the next day. I didn’t go to school dances. I didn’t join any clubs. I got on the bus, came home, and worked on the farm. You know what’s under your name in your school annual? Achievements, varsity sports, clubs, homecoming king. You were in everything. You know what’s under my picture? Thomas Randolph Bales. That’s it. And it’s not with the Bs. They forget me and put me at the end. And some of the profits from the farm were paying your way. I did it because I love Mom and you. I’m proud of you, Edgar.”
“Mom slapped me in the face,” Edgar said bitterly.
“She was trying to be fair,” Tom said. “Can’t you see, you have already received your inheritance?”
“You and your sweet little naive ways,” Edgar said. “You really won Mom over. That, I have to hand it to you.”
“That’s not so,” Tom said. “I knew nothing about your arrangements for college. I knew the farm was helping you out, but I never questioned anything. I just accepted that was the way it was.”
“I’m not going to the grange,” Edgar said. “Take me into town. The nearest car rental. I’m going back to the airport by myself. I’ll see if I can catch an early flight.”
“Okay, Edgar,” Tom said. “I can do that.”
Fifteen minutes later, Tom drove the car to a stop at a car rental agency.
Edgar slid out and got his suit bag from the backseat.
Tom got out and spoke over the roof of the car to Edgar. “I hate for this to end this way.”
“There was never a beginning,” Edgar said. “We’ve always been apart.”
“I suppose you’re right,” Tom said. “I was hoping we could do some things together as grown brothers. You know, hunt and fish together. Come to New York and hang out.”
“Tommy Gun,” Edgar said, “you wouldn’t fit.”
Tom watched Edgar walk up to the door of the car rental.
“Hey, Edgar!”
Edgar turned around. “What?”
“Never call me Tommy Gun again.”
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