The stillness of the lawyer's office waiting room gave Jeff an uneasy feeling. Although, one would be hard-pressed to think of a scenario where someone would be excited to be sitting in a lawyer's office. It's not like anyone ever burst into a room and said "Hey kids, guess who gets to go to the lawyer's office?" followed by the euphoric cries of a bunch of seven-year-olds.

Granted, it's not as bad as sitting in a dentist's office or hospital waiting room, but there is still something unsettling about it. One thought strikes Jeff as he sees the diplomas hanging on the wall. Why is it the most educated amongst us seem to be the most insecure about proving how educated they are? Yes, we get it, you have multiple degrees. Your parents must be very proud.

"He's ready for you now, Mr. Dempsey."

The receptionist's voice interrupted what was building up to be a pretty good rant in Jeff's head. Oh well, he'll have to put a pin in it for another time. Jeff gets up and follows the receptionist into a large office where a middle-aged man in a dark blue suit gets up from behind his desk and offers his hand to Jeff.

"Nice to meet you, Jeff. I'm Leonard, you can call me Len. I'm Dr. Moore's attorney. I'm very sorry for your loss." Jeff shakes his hand.

"Thank you," he says with just a bit of hesitation. It feels weird taking ownership of "the loss." Len motions to Jeff to sit down and Jeff obliges.

"As I'm sure you're aware, Dr. Moore has named you executor of his estate."

As soon as he looked up and saw the shocked and horrified look on Jeff's face, it became clear that this was news to Jeff. His expression would not have changed an iota if the lawyer said, 'As I'm sure you're aware, a pack of rabid wolverines will be charging through that door to tear you limb from limb."

"Excuse me?" is all Jeff could spit out at that particular moment.

"I'm sorry I thought you knew. Stephen, er, I mean Dr. Moore didn't have any close living family. He has some distant nieces and nephews but they were family by blood only. They barely saw him in his later years. He always said you were the only family he had.

Jeff is overwhelmed to hear this but he really shouldn't be. When Jeff was a student at Holy Trinity, he had Dr. Moore as a teacher for two years of chemistry. They had a very good teacher-student relationship. Dr. Moore would always ask him about his basketball exploits. He never went to any of the games because he felt it was beneath him. But he genuinely cared about how Jeff was doing and, for his part, Jeff could sense there was something special about this teacher.

Jeff's favorite story was the time he came to class late because of a dentist appointment and when he walked into the classroom, every pair of eyes were on him and followed him from the door to his desk. Occasionally they would look over at Dr. Moore and then back to Jeff. It was creepy and bizarre and Jeff couldn't imagine why he was such a spectacle.

After the class, Dr. Moore waved him up to the front of the class and explained what he missed. After too many students were stragglers coming in and getting ready to start on time, Dr. Moore threw one of his hall-of-fame temper tantrums. He screamed and broke his yardstick over a student's desk. He lectured them about punctuality and how the lack of it was a sign of disrespect. He vowed that the next person to walk through his door late for class would feel the wrath of Almighty God come down upon him.

"Why didn't you freak out on me then?" Jeff asked.

"I figured you had a good excuse. And besides, I had already accomplished what I needed to. Students will take advantage of my kindness and gentleness so every once in a while, I need to put on a Lawrence Olivier worthy performance to snap them back in line."

Jeff smiled. While the rest of the class rushed to Chemistry class in fear for the rest of that semester, Jeff got a glimpse of the man behind the curtain. It meant a lot that Dr. Moore shared that with him.

Jeff lost touch with him through his twenties but at the 10-year reunion, they reconnected and starting going for coffee once a week. The weekly "coffee break" was something that Jeff wrote in ink in his calendar. It was never to be missed. And it never was.

About six years ago, Dr. Moore was suffering from dementia and had to move into an assisted living facility. Jeff would come by and make him dinner at least one day a week. On another day in the week, he would take Dr. Moore out to dinner at Clive's, his favorite steakhouse.

Dessert at Clive's was the highlight of Jeff's week. Not because the ice cream was the best he'd ever had, but rather because of the dance that would ensue immediately after they finished their main course.

"How about some ice cream, Dr. Moore?"

He would start to wave his hands and shake his head. "No, no, I couldn't."

If you scoured the planet, you might find five people who love ice cream more than this man. But he grew up at the tail end of the Great Depression and he developed a reflex to say no to seconds or dessert. Those were luxuries that his family could not afford and so he associated giving in to the urges as almost sinful.

So Jeff would order a dish of ice cream and when it came, he just set it on the table and watched Dr. Moore react. Imagine you were sitting across from a trained circus tiger and you just slammed down a piece of raw beef. The tiger would resist pouncing on it but it would not be able to hide its mouth-watering desire.

This was how Dr. Moore was with the ice cream. His eyes never left it. You could see he wanted it so badly. Jeff would pretend like he wouldn't see this and just let the ice cream begin to melt. Finally...

"Whose ice cream is that?" Dr. Moore would inquire as casually as he could.

"Oh, that's mine."

"Oh, okay" he would say with great disappointment.

"I don't think I can eat all of it. Do you think you might be able to help me out?"

"I might be able to have a spoonful."

"Okay then, let's dig in," Jeff would say as they each grabbed a spoon.

If Jeff got two spoonfuls of that ice cream, it was a good day. Dr. Moore tore into that ice cream like death row inmate devouring his last dessert.

"So will you do it?"

The lawyer's voice snapped Jeff out of his fond ice cream memory.

"Do what?"

"Fulfill the duties of the executor."

"I have a choice?"

"You can petition to be removed as executor. But if I'm being honest, I don't know who else would do it."

"Can I take a few days to think it over," Jeff asks.

"Of course. However, there is one matter that is more pressing."

"Do I want to know?"

"Dr. Moore has asked that you give the eulogy at his funeral mass."

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"So you understand what you have to do?" Niko is in full teacher mode. As a rule, he doesn't like to speak to his friends the way he addresses his fourth-graders when he is pressing upon them extremely important instructions. But desperate times call for desperate measures and Niko blew well past desperate about two weeks ago.

"Yes, I got it. I'm not an idiot," Louie protests.

"All evidence to the contrary," Niko mutters under his breath. "Okay then, walk me through it."

"I reach out to Caitlyn, find a reason to get together for drinks and start talking about Jeff and Ellen."

"Don't make..."

Louie cuts him off. "Don't make it too obvious what we're trying to do. Be subtle, be smooth. I can do it."

"Sorry Lou, but subtle and smooth aren't your strong suits."

"Hey, I can be subtle and smooth when I want to."

"Like at Ellen's 30th birthday party?"

"How long am I going to have to hear about that?"

"Until I'm dead or lobotomized."

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In May 2007, Jeff threw a huge house party for Ellen's 30th birthday. He invited a large group consisting of both her friends and his. Her most favorite gift was a ceramic vase brought in from China. She always desired the finer things in life and a Chinese hand-crafted vase would look great in their front foyer.

Louie had just gone through a bad break-up and decided that he would blow off some steam. Forgoing the fancy appetizers, he decided to stick to a brown bottle diet.

"I've had six beer," he would proudly declare to the room.

"I've had nine beer!"

"I've had thirteen beer!"

When the inevitable alcohol-induced vomiting came knocking on his door, Louie didn't panic. He knew he had time to make it to the downstairs bathroom. However, when he found that occupied, genuine panic started to settle in.

He bolted for the front door hoping to make it outside. This turned out to be too ambitious. When he started puking he was still inside the front door and the only receptacle in sight was...Ellen's brand new Chinese vase.

A little while later Jeff could see that Ellen was furious about something but couldn't figure out why. "What's up with Ellen?" Jeff asked Niko who was passing by.

"Oh yeah, she's pissed off right now."

"Why is she pissed off?"

"It was something Louie said."

"What did Louie say?"

"Bleeeccchhhh!" Niko says doing his best puking imitation.

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A thought has just occurred to Louie. "Oh God, Caitlin was there that night. Do you think she remembers?

"No, I'm sure she's forgotten all about it," Niko offers in a reassuring manner.

"Really?"

"Don't be a moron. Not a chance."

"It doesn't matter. I'm fairly certain I know what to do."

"I know you are," Niko says. "That's what terrifies me."

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Jeff paces around Ashley's apartment. He's talking out loud but it's not clear he's actually engaging her in conversation.

"I can't do it. I really don't think I can do it," he says aloud but to no one in particular.

For her part, walking Jeff back from the ledge is becoming old hat now. "Take a breath, let's deal with it piece by piece. What specifically do you feel you can't handle?"

"Do you know what being an executor entails"

"Not really."

"It's not just going through their stuff and allocating what he wants to give away in the will. It's a never-ending responsibility. There's dealing with bank, the cable company, the credit card company, the estate's taxes. Imagine the most boring, awful minutiae of your daily life and then double it. That's what's just happened to me."

"Okay, those are all the reasons not to do it. What are the reasons to do it?"

"There's only one. It's Dr. Moore."

"There you go. It looks like the pros outweigh the cons. You could never turn your back on him."

"But the eulogy. I can't get up in front of all those people and talk about his life."

Ashley walks right up and looks deep into his eyes. "Listen to me, Jeff. You CAN do this. You will find a way."

"You really think so?"

"Trust me. I'd never steer you wrong, Jeff."

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Something weird was happening ever since I found out about Dr. Moore's death. It's like memories that had been buried deep in my psyche for decades were suddenly playing out in front me like a scene from a movie. I don't know what these memories mean. I just know I can't stop them when they come on.

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March 1995

In a flash, Jeff is transported back to the Holy Trinity main hallway the Monday after his 51-point game against Franklin Heights in the provincial semi-finals. If he feels like he's the big man on campus, it's probably because he can't walk ten feet without someone giving him a high-five or slapping him on the back.

But there was one person in particular who hung in the background and just watched. When Jeff saw Ginny standing alone by her locker, he made a point to go up to her.

She couldn't hide her smile when she saw him approach. "Didn't I tell you you'd have a big game?"

"I guess I owe you a huge thank you."

"No thanks necessary."

"It's weird, I had no idea I was flaring my elbow out when I took a jump shot."

"You'd have no reason to. It's the way you always shoot," Ginny says matter-of-factly.

"Wait, what?!?"

"You always shoot with your elbow out. Your elbow wasn't the problem. I could see you were too much in your own head and you were beating yourself up about it."

"So what you said was all bullshit?"

"Basically. But it got you out of your head. And once you thought you had it fixed, your confidence came flooding back."

Jeff doesn't know what to do with this information. She clearly was screwing with his head but to amazing results. "I don't know whether or not I should listen to anything else you say," he says.

"Oh, you definitely should. I'd never steer you wrong, Jeff."

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Sitting at his regular table in the Cedar Room, Louie feels a bit like he is in Bizarro World. Usually, he's nervous because he has to find a way to convince a woman to overlook his obvious flaws and go out with him anyway. Tonight he has to convince a woman to try to convince a friend to dump someone.

"Is this ironic?" he says out loud.

"Is what ironic?" Caitlyn says as she arrives at the table.

Now Louie's flustered for a whole different reason. "No, I was just singing to myself. I just can't get enough Alanis, but then again who can, right?"

She gives him an odd look as she sits down. It's a look Louie has seen many times before.

"Anyway it's nice to meet you," Louie says trying to keep the conversation moving.

"Are we meeting for the first time?" Caitlyn asks. "I feel like we may have met before."

"Oh, I don't think so. I would have definitely remembered that. But you know what, I get that a lot. People always come up to me and say 'hey aren't you the guy who did that really stupid embarrassing thing?' And I have to say nope, it must have been someone who looks just like me."

"Okaaaaay. So what's on your mind?"

You're a friend of Ellen's, I'm a friend of Jeff's. I thought we should have a drink."

"Sure, why not."

Karlie comes by to take their drinks order. Louie orders a beer while Caitlyn orders a Malbec. Louie decides there is nothing to do except jump right into it.

"So how about that Jeff and Ellen situation? Is that not the craziest thing?"

"They must know what they're doing. It must be fate bringing them back together."

"Is it though? I mean it didn't end well for either of them the first time. I'd sure hate to see them go through that again. And as the friends we're the ones left picking up the pieces, am I right?"

Karlie comes back with the drinks saving Caitlyn from having to answer that question. Caitlyn raises her glass in a toast. "Here's to the heart getting what it wants."

Louie raises his glass and clinks hers. She holds eye contact for an unusually long time.

"Can I ask you something, Louie?"

"Sure."

"Does your wife or girlfriend feel the same way about this as you?"

Louie almost jumps out of his chair. He is in Bizarro world. Every other time, he's the one who gets "boyfriended." That's when a woman is afraid you're going to ask her out and drops a pre-emptive boyfriend mention. But he's never had anyone do the significant other fishing expedition. He tries to remain cool.

"Uh, actually, I am currently single."

"Oh really," she says with great interest as she takes a drink of her wine. "You're right, it would really suck if they were to split up again."

Louie feels like he's made huge progress. "It really would."

"Because that would mean that we wouldn't get to spend time together."

"What's that now?"

"I think it would be really great if the four of us went out to dinner sometime. Maybe even dancing afterward. Does that sound like fun to you?"

Niko could not have been clearer about the mission objective. So Louie can't plead ignorance for what he's about to say next.

"I'd love that."

"I mean I can't think of a good reason why we shouldn't do that this weekend. Can you?"

This is a character-defining moment for Louie. Take one for the team and stick to the mission or chuck it all away for his own personal benefit. Which way will he go?

"No, no I cannot."

Was there ever any doubt?

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The morning of Dr. Moore's wake, Jeff is at Ellen's getting dressed and ready to go. As he tightens his tie, he is still waffling about accepting the duties of executor. "I would never want to say no to his wishes, but I feel like it's asking a lot of me. Maybe too much."

"Oh for God's sake, just blow it off then," Ellen says as she enters the bedroom.

"You really think I should?"

"It sounds like a major pain in the ass and he didn't even ask you first."

"He did have dementia, maybe he thought he had."

"We haven't even seen the will yet. Do you even know what he left us?" She quickly catches herself. "You. What he left you."

Jeff is a bit taken aback by what he just heard. "No, I have no idea and it doesn't matter. This isn't a quid pro quo situation. There will be a formal reading of the will next week and that will all be known then."

Ellen puts the finishing touches on her makeup but says nothing. It's almost as if she's already checked out of the conversation.

"Just to be clear," Jeff says. "Your advice is I should not do it."

She quickly spins on her heel. "Look, do it. Don't do it. I don't give a shit. I'm just saying you're getting all worked up and for what?"

Jeff doesn't respond but just thinks about what she just said.

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Jeff is one of the first to arrive at the wake. An elderly lady recognizes Jeff from his frequent visits to the assisted living facility and comes over and takes hold of Jeff's hand. "Oh dear, I am so sorry for your loss."

"I appreciate that. It's mostly your fault," Jeff says solemnly.

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Okay, I know what you're thinking. That's a serious dick move. And you're not wrong but you have to understand one thing – I had no option! Dr. Moore left a very detailed list of instructions for the wake and funeral. I'll get to them all in due time but first on that list is: If anyone expresses their condolences by saying "I'm so sorry" I am to tell them "I appreciate that, it's mostly your fault."

I can tell you I had no idea his burial services would come with such a wacky list of rules. Although really, I should have seen it coming.

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June 2012

Jeff walks into Dr. Moore's room in the assisted living facility carrying a glass of water. He sets it down beside his bed. "One glass of cold water. Anything else I can get you?"

"Kid, listen to what I'm telling you. My funeral is going to be unlike anything you've ever seen."

"Please, I won't be around for it. You'll outlive me by a good 15 years."

"You just watch. It's not going to be all this gloom and doom. I don't want that. I want mine to be an event where people say "That was the most fun I've ever had at a funeral."

"You want people to have fun at your funeral?"

"Absolutely! I'm talking balloons for the kids. A petting zoo outside. The whole thing."

"That's not the way it usually works," Jeff says.

"I know the way it usually works. That's why I want to do something different. Most people see the word funeral and they go right to sadness. I look at the word funeral and all I see is an anagram for R-E-A-L F-U-N"

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He was right. That's what I loved about the man. He was able to make you see things in a different light. I loved him for that. But as the day went on, the sheer volume of people and the enormity of the responsibility started to weigh on me.

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Later in the day, Louie arrives at the wake with his date, Caitlyn. When Niko sees this, only the societal convention of not shouting out "WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?????" during a wake kept him from completely exploding right there on the spot. Still, he marches over and pulls Louie by the arm into one of the private rooms nearby.

"What is she doing here? Is she your date?"

"Of course not? She's my...escort"

"I'd rather you'd brought an actual hooker."

"I know it looks bad but it's like in The Art of War – Keep your friends close and your enemies closer."

"No, it's like in Backstabbing Louie Tries To Get Laid – Screw over your friends if it means getting some."

Ashley comes tearing into the room. 'Hey, idiots. Everyone can hear you. Where's Jeff? I haven't seen him for ages."

I don't know I haven't seen him fo-" Niko stops in mid-sentence as he looks at his phone. "Uh-oh!"

"What Uh-oh?" Ashley says.

Niko reads a text message from Jeff. "Really sorry guys but I can't do the executor thing and I can't do the eulogy tomorrow. I'll see you in a few days."

The three look at each other in silence.