Jessie – 2010 – the day of Jacob’s funeral
Eddy eases the old gold Buick into a parking space right in front of the funeral home. He gets out, walks around the car, and opens the door for Grandma. She’s hardly said a word all morning. She doesn’t seem all that upset, though. Just strangely distant. She looks back over the seat at me before getting out.
“You look very nice, Jessie,” she says. “That outfit suits you. And I really do love your hair, dear.” ESTABLISHED TIME, GOOD
“Thanks,” I say. I’m wearing a long black skirt and a black sweater with little pearl buttons. Grandma always told me black makes me look too washed out with my fair skin and light hair. My new hair must be a better match.
“Come on,” I say to Albert, who is still sitting beside me on the back seat, staring into space.
Grandma gets out of the car. She’s moving slower than usual and holds onto Eddy’s arm. Eddy looks back at us, gestures at me to catch up. I open my door. HOW OLD IS GRANDMA?
“Albert, let’s go,” I say again. You can tell Albert the same thing twenty times and he still won’t listen to you. He looks over like he’s surprised to see me sitting there.
“Where’s Pa?” he asks me. I stare at him for a second. I’m not sure what to say.
“You do know what happened, right?” I ask him. He just looks at me.
“What happened?” he asks.
“Jesus God,” I say, then remember where we are. Albert’s still gazing vaguely at me, and Eddy has paused at the front door as two black-suited funeral home workers hold it open for him and Grandma. He looks back at us again. I stick my head out of the car.
“We’ll be right behind you,” I tell him. He nods, and they go on inside, the big heavy wooden doors shutting silently behind them.
“Albert,” I say, “you know he’s…” I try to think of what to say, how to tell Albert his daddy is dead, even though I thought surely he already realized that, being the only witness. Other than Ezzie.
“He’s dead,” Albert says. “I know that.”
“Well, what are you asking me?”
“Where is he?”
I sigh.
“He’s inside. That’s where we’re going, to say goodbye to him, okay?”
Albert just looks at me for another second, then nods and gets out of the car. I have to hurry to catch up with him. The two men in suits smile sadly and murmur to us as they hold the funeral parlor door open.
It’s more crowded than I expected. Even though as family we came very early there are already people seated on the benches and bunched up in quiet little groups around the softly lit room. I recognise RECOGNIZE most of them, but there are a few unfamiliar faces. Off in one corner there’s a little group of older people with strangely outdated clothes and hairstyles who don’t seem to be mingling with anyone but themselves. I can’t place any of them, although one of the men gives me a twinge, some faint memory that doesn’t quite surface.
Joel and Ben were supposed to be right behind us, but I don’t see them yet. Albert and I start to follow Grandma and Eddy, who are still making their way up the aisle. They keep pausing to speak to people. Suddenly I find myself sitting down on the very last bench, just inside the door. Albert looks at me, then looks at Grandma’s straight back moving away from us. He sits down beside me on the end of the bench. He’s pressed right up against me and I scoot over. He scoots over too so we’re still sitting smashed up together.
“Shouldn’t we go with Ma?” he whispers to me.
“Go on if you want to,” I say. I can see that the lid of the casket is open, and even from the back of the room it makes my mouth go dry.
Albert stays put. He leans against me, looking anxious. I hope he won’t cry. Now everyone who comes in after us bends down over Albert, whispers to us that they are sorry about Grandpa. I am sorry too, but I am also shivery and suddenly my stomach hurts and I really want to go home.
Quite a few of the people bending down towards me have known me all my life and do poorly concealed double-takes when they see my short COMMA? spiky black hair. I’m not positive that everyone who speaks to me knows who I am. This would be funny if I didn’t feel so strange.
My cousin Mary comes in, carrying little Austin. She sees me and Albert and stops to bend over us too. She’s been to the house multiple times in the last few days so isn’t startled by my new style.
“You’re white as a sheet, Jessie,” she whispers. “Are you all right?” I nod, and Albert looks over at me.
“You look sick,” he whispers sincerely. Even Austin is studying me solemnly, like he’s making a diagnosis of his own and things are not looking good. Mary shifts him to her other hip. He peers down at me over her shoulder now.
“I’m okay,” I say. “Do you want to sit down?”
“I’ll go see him first,” she says. She straightens up and looks down the aisle, squinting a little as if the coffin is a great distance away. NO NEW PARAGRAPH?
She shifts Austin again, looks back at me. They are partially blocking the aisle and the people coming in have to put their hands on her shoulders and squeeze by her. They pat Austin, smile at me and Albert.
“Are you going to stay back here?” she asks.
“I think I better,” I say, picturing myself having to run all the way up the aisle from the front row, drawing stares as I escape. “Go on with Mary if you want, Albert,” I say.
“Come on, honey,” she says to him. “Jessie’s just staying back here because she doesn’t feel well. You should go be with your mom.”
“Okay,” Albert says, and gets up. Mary pats my hand and they start slowly down the aisle. She pauses to speak to people along the way. Austin squirms around so he’s looking back over her shoulder and continues to hold me fixed in his level blue stare for the entire trip to the front of the church. I smile half-heartedly at him and get no response, so ADD?: I Just stare back until Mary shifts him yet again and he can’t see me anymore. They file past the coffin slowly. I watch them sit down in the first row.
Eddy scoots in beside me.
“Are you okay?” he asks. “I thought I better come back and check on you. Albert says you look sick.”
“Yeah, he made sure to tell me that,” I say. “I do feel really weird.”
Eddy scrutinizes me. He hasn’t done a very good job of combing his shaggy black hair, and he has dark COMMA? tired smudges under his silvery eyes. He smells like woodsmoke, and he’s wearing an ancient suit of Grandpa’s that he’s both too tall and too thin for.
“So do I,” he says. “It’s kind of like we’re dreaming this, isn’t it?”
“I don’t know why I’m not crying,” I say. “I haven’t cried yet.”
Suddenly the twins are standing in the aisle beside Eddy. They’re looking from us to the front of the parlor and back to us.
“What are you doing back here?” asks Ben. “We have to go up front with everybody else.”
“We just need a few minutes,” Eddy says.
“Scoot over,” says Ben, and Eddy and I slide down the bench. The twins cram in with us. I am surprised at how presentable they look dressed in dark suits with their hair completely under control.
“You know everyone’s staring at us,” Ben says. “Out of the corners of their eyes. Of course mostly they’re wondering who Jessie is.” He reaches around Eddy and pats me on the shoulder before I can snip back at him.
“Come on, guys,” Joel says. “We can’t stay back here.”
“You and Ben go,” Eddy says. “We’ll be right behind you.”
“We’ll go in a minute,” says Ben. We all sit there.
“Shove over,” another voice says. I look up and find Quentin bending towards us now, looking like a movie star from the 40s in his sharp gray pinstriped suit.
We all scoot down and smile at him. I LIKE THE WAY EVERYONE KEEPS SHOWING UP AND SITTING BESIDE JESSIE — FUNNY
“What are ya’ll way back here for?” he asks. “Ain’t you supposed to be up front?”
“Jessie isn’t feeling well,” says Eddy. “We’re going up in a minute.”
Quentin nods, and we all look up towards the coffin. There are huge flower arrangements on either side of it, and smaller ones lined up in front. Even as far back as we are I can smell their overpowering sweetness.
“Look at that arrangement on the far end,” says Joel. “On the right, the pink and white flowers. The one with a banner. What’s that big yellow thing in the middle of it?”
We all squint at the flowers, and Ben starts to snicker. “It’s a telephone,” he says. “A plastic telephone.”
He’s right. I can see the receiver hanging from the cord. It’s nearly touching the floor.
“They had one of them at my aunt’s funeral,” Quentin says. “The banner says ‘Jesus is Calling.’”
“Well, he’s not getting through unless somebody hangs up that receiver,” Ben says, and then we all have to fight off hysterics. IS THIS A REAL THING?
“SSSHHHH!” Joel hisses, but he’s trying as hard as the rest of us not to laugh.
“Oh, come on,” Ben says. “Grandpa would think it was funny too.”
“Well, he wouldn’t admit it,” says Joel. “He’d tell you to cut it out. He’d give you that look, and tell you he didn’t want to hear another word.”
“Yeah, but then you’d catch him smiling about it,” Ben said.
“Yeah,” Joel said. “You would.”
“We should go on up,” Ben says. “Look how crowded it’s getting.” Eddy looks at me.
“You guys go ahead,” I say. “DELETE THIS QUOTATION MARK
“I’ll sit with Jessie,” says Eddy. “We’ll be along.”
Joel reaches over and pats my hand. He and Ben and Quentin all get up and start down the aisle.
Eddy and I watch them go, then look at the people who are still coming in. We nod at everyone who bends towards us and follow their progress up the aisle. Now Eddy looks as bloodless and faint as I feel. He leans over and whispers in my ear.
“We really should go see Grandpa.”
“Okay,” I say, but neither of us moves. What’s wrong with us, QUESTION MARK INSTEAD OF COMMA HERE? I wonder. I’ve been to viewings and funerals. People from the church, older neighbors who were friends of my grandparents. Just nobody this close to me. We sit there another minute, and then Eddy takes my hand and says “Come on.”
We walk down the aisle, nodding at the people on either side of us like I’d been watching everyone else do. It seems to take hours. I hold onto Eddy’s cold bony hand.
When we finally get to the coffin, we both stop beside it. Grandpa doesn’t look like he’s just asleep, but he doesn’t look dead either. He looks like a less-than-perfect wax replica of himself. His hair isn’t parted exactly right, and it’s strange to see him wearing his glasses but lying with his eyes closed. His skin is a little too clear and unwrinkled, like he’s been to see Darlene at the Hair Hut for one of her bonus makeup sessions. He even seems to have a little touch of blush on his cheeks. Instead of being horrified, I am fascinated, and keep staring at him until Eddy tugs on my hand and pulls me away. Then I have to glance back quickly because I realize my last clear view ever of Grandpa could be while I’m considering whether or not he has makeup on. So I give him one more look and then I follow Eddy, still hanging onto his cold hand, to stand in the receiving line with the rest of my family.
Grandma looks at me with a small frown, and takes my arm to maneuver me into place beside her. Albert is on her other side, staring out at the crowd with a little frown of his own. The twins have scooted down a bit to let Eddy slip in between me and them. I wonder for a second where Quentin went, then spot him seated a few rows back. I wish I was sitting with him instead of being up here on display. We’ve got our backs to the casket DO YOU? I ENVISIONED FACING IT HOW IS THE CHRUCH CONFIGURED? MAYBE: WE CAN’T SEE THE OPEN CASKET WHICH IS A RELIEF which is a relief. Mourners are filing past us, murmuring condolences.
“Are you sick?” Grandma whispers to me. “You’re looking peaky.”
“I’m okay,” I whisper back. “Sorry, I needed a minute.”
I feel guilty as soon as I say it. Grandma didn’t need a minute. She marched right up here with her ramrod straight spine and is working the line like she does it every day. Gracious and untouchable. I realize I haven’t seen the first tear from her either.
Our neighbors from across the pasture file past, patting my shoulder and taking Grandma’s hand, sad eyes and soft voices telling us how sorry they are about Grandpa. I nod without really processing it because I’ve just realized the next mourners in line are those weird old people who look like they transported in from the past, and Grandma has frozen beside me. She takes in one deep breath.
“We was so sorry to hear about Jacob, Opal,” says one of the woman, the first to reach us. There’s another woman and three men with her. They bunch up towards Grandma, crowding her. The women are wearing floor length dark skirts straight from the 1800s, and have long, lank grey hair. No makeup, COMMA? lined faces. The men are in old fashioned suits, with slicked back hair and hard sharp eyes.
“Arabella,” Grandma says. “It’s good of you to come.” She is leaning back a bit and when the man directly behind Arabella reaches for her hand I think for a second she’s going to jerk it away.
“He was a faithful servant,” the man says. “He will be rewarded.”
“Yes he will,” says Arabella. “God will see to that.”
The other three murmur in agreement, like a Greek chorus.
“God smiles down on all he did,” says the sharp eyed man. “God called him home. It weren’t an accident, what that snake did.”
Grandma does yank her hand back out of his grip now.
“He had a heart attack, Clive,” she says. Her voice is so hard that I blink at her in astonishment. Eddy takes a step closer to us. IS EDDY STANDING BESIDE THEM? Albert is staring at Clive, then at Grandma.
“Don’t you remember, Ma? In the barn? It was that…” he begins, and Grandma hisses at him to hush so loudly that we all jump. Eddy reaches out for Clive’s hand, shakes it and pulls him past Grandma, saying “Thank you for coming, we really appreciate it,” as Clive tries to tell Grandma something else. The others are moving him forward too now, reaching for Grandma themselves and saying something to her that I can’t quite hear.
Clive has paused in front of the twins, and says to Ben, “You sure do look a whole lot like your brother, son. I hope you are carrying on your granddaddy’s work like he should have done.”
Ben is staring transfixed at Clive like he has no idea how to respond. Then Clive looks at me. “You’ve growed up, young lady,” he says. “You was a tiny thing last time I saw you, back when your granddaddy was training up your brother. And you look just like that beautiful mama of yourn. YOUR’N She was special. All of them was special.”
Suddenly I remember. That skinny man at the church years ago. WHAT AGE WAS SHE THEN? The one with the darting eyes, talking to Grandpa about Samuel. Me overhearing what Grandpa didn’t intend me to hear.
“That is enough!” Grandma’s voice rings out over the whole gathering. Everything has gone silent. Grandma is coming towards Clive, her face white, her eyes blazing. Arabella and the other three are watching her, open mouthed.
“Whoa,” says Ben, and we both try to back out of the way, but Grandma practically shoves us aside and stops in front of Clive. Eddy grabs at her arm but she shakes him loose. Clive just watches her, a tiny strange smile on his face.
“Clive Jenkins, I want you to leave. Right this minute. All of you.” She sweeps an arm at Arabella and the other three, who are hovering just behind her. “You aren’t welcome here. I cut ties with you people and that…place a long time ago and I don’t want anything to do with you or it. Jacob was foolish and misguided and I will never forgive you for your part in what happened to those children. Or him. He could have let it go and thanks to you he never did. And look where it got him.”
She’s suddenly run out of steam, and is visibly deflating. I am astonished to see her eyes going red around the rims, tears forming in the corners. I move closer to her as two of the funeral home ushers appear, and she puts an arm around my shoulders without seeming to realize it. The twins and Eddy are trying to herd Clive and his bunch away from us. The ushers take over, guiding them all out so quickly and quietly that I wonder if this is something they often have to deal with. I am overwhelmed by a sudden urge to laugh, but fight it back. Here we are again, the whole town watching us, holding their collective breaths and waiting to see what happens next.
What happens next is that the quiet little unobtrusive funeral director materializes by Grandma’s side, telling her in a low soothing voice that it’s time for the service to start if we want to take our seats on the front row.
“Not a moment too soon,” whispers Ben. I look back LOOK BACK –AGAIN CONFUSED ABOUT DIRECTION at the coffin quickly like I think Grandpa is going to have something to say about this, as the gentle piano music starts and we hurry after Grandma to our seats.
* Should this be earlier??