Conversations
The trouble started when Ben texted me to meet him at the Roosevelt Bench in the college library. I rested on the cold stone to wait for my twin brother and reflected on similar past encounters. What was the crisis this time?
Ben was typically late, but I didn’t mind. His tardiness gave me the opportunity to once again appreciate the sights, sounds and smells of this remarkable edifice. I suppose I would have loved the Hogan-Jefferson Library even if I wasn’t an English professor. The scent of ink and paper intoxicated me.
I rose and stepped to the railing of the circular walkway that hugged the base of the domed structure. I glanced up to admire the impressive cupola. The centered, round window allowed sunlit shards to travel along the walls of the library, scattering shadows that danced on various spots throughout the day. An invisible entity inhabited the library; I couldn’t put my finger on it but could sense something.
Slightly dizzy, I lowered my gaze, smiled and grasped the railing. All of the people—students, professors, and curious visitors—scurried to and fro several feet beneath me. On any day, I would have been among them to research a vital germ of information at one of several computer terminals humming in concentric circles in the center of the main floor. Guilty of literary distractions, I spent countless hours in the orbital stacks, pulling tomes from shelves to lose myself in humanity’s greatest treasure—the printed word.
Not today. I sighed and contemplated what Ben wished to confide in me. As an environmental biologist, my ruggedly handsome brother had accomplished much in his quest to save the planet. In the last thirty years, Ben had been away from home more often than not but still maintained his ties to the university. Although plagued with irregular scheduling, his popular classes overflowed with starry-eyed youth.
There he was. Ben looked up and waved; he never broke stride as he mounted the wide marble steps to reach the balcony where I waited. He looked so well—tall, tan and fit. I paled in comparison. Twins we were but hardly resembled each other. His thick, dark wavy hair was liberally streaked with silver, and his blue eyes sparkled with… something. Contentment? Satisfaction? What pleased him today? Perhaps another trip sponsored by the science department?
Widowed young, the mother of two new adults and a confirmed bibliophile, I shunned ultraviolet rays, kept my nose in books and my feet on the ground. I meant to shed those extra twenty pounds but lacked physical discipline. I relied on brains, not brawn.
Although he deserved some sort of insignia for environmental distinction having completed the Big Three, the triple crown of thru-hiking (the Pacific Coast Trail, the Appalachian Trail and the dreaded Continental Divide Trail), Ben loved me—the sister who walked around the block only on nice days. Although he had endured extreme weather in the Kenya Rift Valley to document elephant herds, freezing temperatures north of the Arctic Circle to tag orcas and intestinal distress in Mexico while monitoring the hatching of loggerhead sea turtles, Ben trusted me—the sister whose parakeet escaped out an open patio door.
“Bailey! Hi!” His hug seemed a bit urgent considering we saw each other often on campus. Ben’s excitement was palpable. My stomach clenched. Where was he off to now? The Amazon to break bread with indigenous tribes? The Himalayan range to clean liter from base camps? The oceans to harvest plastic?
Wherever Ben trekked, whatever ecological calamity beckoned, I became the buffer to soften the blow to our family when my brother announced his intentions. Our siblings barely reacted anymore, but our parents fretted each time. I was left to listen to their despair.
“That’s why no sensible woman will have him! He takes off for parts unknown on a whim.” Mom would wring her hands and shake her head. As she clucked her tongue, she would say, “Such a shame. The grandchildren would have been beautiful.”
Dad was more practical. “That boy is going to lose his college job. I wouldn’t put up with him gallivanting all over blue blazes if he worked for me.”
Ben and I both knew our parents were proud of his efforts but were alarmed at the danger he faced on these jaunts. I would reassure Mom and Dad that Ben was pursuing his calling, his life’s work. I encouraged them to peruse the International Journal of Global Environmental Issues to read about their son.
“You know,” I said the last time Ben disappeared somewhere in Southeast Asia to promote COVID vaccinations, “the university sponsors these trips. The college of sciences need his publications to look good.” I crossed my fingers behind my back as I promised Ben would return safely.
In truth, I was terrified each time he left.
Today, my heart raced as I faked a calm demeanor.
“So, Ben, what’s up? Has the thirst for adventure crept into your soul once again?”
“No, no, Sis.” Ben moved his hands in a placating manner to mollify my anxiety. “I’m home for the semester. This is about something else.” He looked off into the void for a minute.
I could sense the wheels spinning in his brain as he sifted his thoughts to continue.
He opened with the usual. “Bailey, you know you’re the closest person on the planet to me. I trust you completely not to breathe a word of this to anyone until I do. It’s important, Bays. I refuse to subject myself to our parents’ judgment this time. Do I have your word?”
Our eyes held. Yes, yes. I’d heard this all countless times before. I always complied. I never betrayed his trust. Why I now had to practically take a blood oath…
“Swear?”
“Yes, Ben. You have my word. Just tell me.”
My brother inhaled deeply and placed his hands on his knees as we sat side-by-side. “When I die, I’m going to recompose; NOR—natural organic reduction is my gift to the family. No funeral. No having to decide what to do with me. No expenses. No stress.”
I blinked and took a sip from my water bottle. My throat felt parched from rapid breathing.
“You mean the Body Farm in Knoxville, Tennessee? You want to donate your body to the UT?” A sudden dread captured my thoughts. “Oh, Ben! Are you ill?” I grabbed his arm.
Ben shook his noble head. “No, Bailey.” He looked at me as if I were an errant child and patted my hand. “I’m fine. But, listen. We’re fifty years old today. It’s time to think of the hereafter. And some of the places I’ve been and some of the things I’ve witnessed make me fear for our ever-warming planet.”
He straightened and disengaged his arm. “I’m talking about human composting.”
“Turning into dirt?”
He chuckled. “You could call it that. Bailey, burials and cremations carry heavy environmental tolls. Toxic embalming, use of land, not to mention CO2 emissions.” He shifted to face me more squarely.
“Sis, people need to get on board with this. Of course, churches and funeral homes aren’t too pleased with the concept.” He shrugged.
As my eyes widened with his sincerity, Ben warmed to his topic. His hands waved animatedly to drive home his convictions.
“Human composting facilities exist in only six states right now. Legal hurdles will eventually collapse. I’m considering Seattle, Washington, although, New York, Colorado, Oregon, Vermont and California are good options. What do you think?”
Was my handsome twin brother, companion of our birth, asking my opinion? I needed to be careful here. I wouldn’t crush his spirit for all the chocolate in the world. I coughed.
“How does this work, Ben? Like cremation?”
He shook his head. “No chemicals or burning. Vessels full of organic materials like straw, alfalfa, and sawdust can turn human bodies into soil after a period of time. I’ll bet you’d be surprised to learn the average age of sign-ups is twenty-nine. Young people are teaching us how to live and die better.”
We sat in silence for a bit as I mentally wrestled. What would our parents say? Wait.
Ben shrugged again. “Um, that might be where you come in, Bays. Hey! I should put that in my will.” He grinned. “Soil is always useful.”
I closed my eyes and counted to ten. I just couldn’t imagine my wonderful brother as sinkhole fill, dirt over a stranger’s grave or the infield at Wrigley Field. Ben would become an ecological anomaly.
He snatched his phone to read a text. “Oh, man. In ten minutes, I’m due to give a lecture on Yellowstone habitation evolvement. I’d better run before the department chair has a nervous breakdown.”
We stood simultaneously, reached for each other and laughed. A twin thing.
As he hugged me closely, Ben whispered, “Thank goodness for you, Bailey. I’m glad we had this talk. I’m trusting you with my life and my… death.”
We broke apart, each of us off to our respective responsibilities. I suddenly said to his retreating back. “See you later tonight. Remember? Mom’s having cake and ice cream for us.”
Ben didn’t turn, but I knew he made the same face he made forty years ago when he got underwear for Christmas. He raised his hand and kept walking.
Thoughts jumbled around in my head like a human clothes dryer. I made it through the slide by; Mom said fifty was special. I think she grabbed any excuse to draw family together.
* * *
Street lights had begun to wake up early September twilight. Ben’s old, red pick-up sat at the curb. Great. Uncle Jess and Aunt Barbra had been invited, too. Oh well, the more the merrier. Anticipating a fun evening, I scurried up the driveway and opened the front door.
Loud voices stopped as several faces turned my way. The air fairly crackled with tension. Mom stood wringing her hands just outside the kitchen. Dad slumped in his recliner rubbing his face with both hands. As heated dialogue resumed, I sought my brother. Something was wrong.
Feet apart, Ben perched at the edge of the living room and glared at me with narrowed eyes. Heavens! Were his nostrils flaring with heavy breaths? Why would he be angry with me?
“Calm down, everyone. He’ll change his mind when the time comes.” Uncle Jess gestured to Ben and guzzled from a beer can. “He’s a good boy.”
Plates of chocolate cake and melting ice cream sat precariously on end tables around the room. No one touched the dessert Mom had prepared except my two cousins. Patty and Charlotte sat side-by-side on Grandma’s love seat and focused on their spoons.
Mom signaled to me to meet her in the kitchen. Frowns creased her sweet face.
“Bailey! Daddy and I found out about Ben’s plans!”
“What, Mom?”
She clutched her chest and gulped air. “No priest. No funeral. Ben wants to be turned into dirt! Where will he end up? Strangers might shovel him into oblivion. He won’t go to heaven.”
This was worse than the summer he spent in ‘heathen’ China teaching ESL. The conversation caused alarm bells to go off in my head. Why had Ben told our parents when he had pledged me to secrecy? I thought we had agreed on our usual tactical stealth.
I looked around wildly, seeking a lifeboat. Okay. This was a mess—just like the other times Ben had spilled the beans right before he had dashed off on a new adventure. I shook my head. This made no sense. We were fifty today. Hopefully, NOR wouldn’t occur for decades. I couldn’t offer solace until I figured this out.
Bewildered, I led Mom back among the familial turmoil. Aunt Barbra patted the seat next to her, and Mom sank down on the sofa.
“Ben?”
“Outside. Now.” His cold tone froze my heart, and my shoulders hunched as I followed him out the front door. Light traffic rolled by as Ben paced back and forth. When he stopped to stand in front of me, my relief vanished as I saw the set of his jaw and the disgust in his eyes. Words tangled on my tongue, but his were precise. Very clear.
“Bailey, how could you? I trusted you.” He shook his head. “I know the folks don’t text. You must have called them. Why?”
My eyebrows met in the center of my forehead. “I didn’t. I never said a word.”
My brother raised his hands, palms up. “Well, dear sister. You’re the only human on this beleaguered planet I’ve confided in. Some mystery, huh?”
Ben turned abruptly to walk to his truck. “I’m really disappointed in you, Bailey. Oh, happy birthday.”
Tears burned behind my eyelids. “Happy birthday to you, too.”
* * *
Sleep did not come easily that night. I tossed and turned, trying to solve the enigma of how our parents discovered the compost connection. When I had returned to Mom’s disaster of a party, I didn’t have a chance to inquire how they learned the big news.
“No more talking about dead bodies!” Dad had clicked on his giant television screen so he and Uncle Jess could yell and argue over some sporting pastime. Life went on for them. Baseball and football would now gloriously overlap. Which game to watch took precedence over world-worthy events or our family squabbles.
Aunt Barbra had motioned for my cousins to clear the dishes. “Your mother has gone up to bed with a headache, dear. We’ll see ourselves out.”
I had spied Uncle Jess now firmly entrenched on the sofa. “Do you need a ride, Aunt Barbra?”
“It’s half a block, dear. We’ll be fine. Happy birthday.”
I lay in my dusky bedroom and ran scenarios through my mind. Nothing made sense. The riddle of who-said-what tortured me until two-thirty. I rolled over and punched my pillow. I had three classes and a student tutorial scheduled later today. Professors fifty and older required more sleep, didn’t they?
Ben. How could he believe I would betray him? We had conspired countless times growing up. The box turtle we hid under the garage workbench that snapped at Dad’s pants. Sneaking liver and onions off our dinner plates to Petey, our basset under the table. The mysterious overnight my brother and three friends pulled their senior year of high school. I could write a book.
All morning I apologized to my colleagues for my irritable mood until they chose to ignore me. This unfortunate schism between my twin brother and me felt like an opened wound. It festered as I attempted to sort my feelings. Was I angry? Hurt? Confused? Ben must have told our parents and their adamant disapprovals shocked him into blaming me.
No. That made no sense. Well, he’d just have to wander through this emotional maze without me. I had things to do.
The text came a minute after I locked my office door and headed out for lunch. My world might be shaken, but a girl has to eat.
With trepidation, I agreed to meet Ben at the Roosevelt Bench. I straightened my shoulders and resolved not to accept any more rubbish. I loved Ben, but he had already cost me one night of beauty sleep.
Great. He was late, and I surely minded this time. I had a lecture scheduled for 1:30, and I needed to review my notes. Perhaps a stroll downstairs through the stacks where I could inhale the wisdom and serenity of thousands of printed pages would clear my mind. I once thought I could live in the library if chocolate chip cookies were allowed.
Suddenly, I cocked my head. There it was again—a breathy murmur.
“Bailey. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
I turned 360 degrees, eyes wide. Was my beloved library haunted? No one was nearby. What sonic quirk was I experiencing?
“Bailey, did you hear me? I’m sorry. Look straight across.”
For heaven’s sake. Directly across the empty expanse of the domed structure stood my darn brother. He waved and then whispered, “Stay there. I’ll come to you.”
My mouth hung open as I watched Ben hurry around the curved walkway to me. Emotions flashed across his face like a kaleidoscope. Apprehension gave way to regret, and finally hopefulness. He faced me and grabbed both of my hands.
“Bays, I apologize for accusing you of breaking our confidence. I should have known. I should have trusted you. Can you ever…”
“Wait. Wait.” I pulled my hands free and gestured to both sides. “How did you do that? I heard you distinctly from way over there.”
Ben grinned. “This domed structure is a whisper gallery.”
“What?”
He escorted me to the bench, and we sat. “Early this morning, Aunt Barb called me. Patty and Charlotte blabbed to Mom and told her all I explained to you yesterday about my human composting intentions. They thought she should know.”
“I still don’t understand.”
Ben licked his dry lips. “Those two ding-dongs are finally finishing grad school and were here in the library editing their dissertations. Whatever. I guess they decided to take a break and do laps around the walkway. Anyway, they reached the spot across from us where we sat. They stopped to catch their breaths and ta-da!” He paused to flip his wrist. “They eavesdropped on our conversation.”
As the last piece of the puzzle fell into place, I gasped. “Oh! This is just like we did on our eighth-grade field trip to Washington DC. In the Capitol Building, the same phenomenon spooked all of us.”
“Yeah. And St. Paul’s Cathedral and New York’s Grand Central Terminal, to name a few other places.”
“I wonder if every domed structure houses this strange occurrence.”
Ben shrugged. “All I know is a whisper causes a distinct sound wave because of its low intensity. The curved walls provide a conduit to receivers like our nosy cousins.”
I shook my head. “Why did they tell Mom? She was so upset.”
“Beats me. That’s one of the reasons why I was comfortable with my decision to be secret. If I outlived our parents and you outlived me, all would be okay.”
Ben looked down for a minute and then lightly punched me on my shoulder like he’d done for nearly fifty years.
“Forgive me, Bays?”
Being the more magnanimous, I nodded. “Yes, you big goof.”
His shoulders relaxed as he stood. “We’ll be more careful during our future conversations. Okay?”
“You bet.” I glanced at my watch. Good. I had enough time to grab a salad-to-go from the college cafeteria and head back to my office where notes about the lovely Jane Austen awaited.
As we started to part, I had a sudden thought. “You never did tell me what to do with your… soil.”
My twin brother grinned. “That will be a chat for another day. I’ll tell when I decide. But not in here.”
~