Free Emako Blue by Brenda Woods Page B

the crowd turned, startled. I began to shake. Daddy put his arm in mine. Mama took my hand and held it. I leaned into her and put my head on her shoulder. My mama, she was cool and sweet like ice cream.
    The people from the funeral home stood around, ushering, directing the show. It was Emako’s final performance.
    I wiped tears from my face.
    The preacher approached Verna and held her hands. Then he turned to the head of the casket and began to speak. His words floated through the air. “Let us pray. Heavenly Father, we say to You, this child is gone, but she will never be forgotten. This child is gone before she ever got to fly. This child is gone and we pray that no more will be lost in this way. And let us not be filled with hatred, but let us rest with the knowledge that everything in the dark will be brought into the light. In the name and by the power of Jesus Christ, we pray. Amen.”
    The crowd replied, “Amen.”
    A woman wearing a royal blue hat began to sing “Go Tell It on the Mountain.” She looked like she weighed 300 pounds and sweat covered her face and poured down to her neck like a stream.
    When she finished, the preacher led us in another prayer and Emako’s mother doubled over, bent in half, sobbing. Latrice and Marcel pulled her to her feet and the pretty pink casket was lowered into the ground.
    The preacher whispered, “Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.”

Jamal
    Eddie asked me for a ride to the cemetery. I wanted to be alone, but I said yes because we were cool.
    We followed the trail of cars out of the parking lot, and a fat brother on a motorcycle waved us through a red light. I wondered how a fat man rode a motorcycle. I pictured him tipping over like Humpty Dumpty and falling off the wall. My mind was playing tricks on me.
    The line of cars inched its way slowly through the cemetery. Eddie sat there, looking out the window. In twenty minutes not a single word passed between us. I was glad. I didn’t feel like talking. I parked the car and we got out. I had forgotten my sunglasses and the smog and sun burned my eyes.
    Emako’s mother was sitting, and someone was standing over her with an umbrella to protect her from the heat. There were people all around her, but she looked alone and lonely. I walked over to her and reached for her hand. She put her wet tissue in her lap.
    She pulled me in close and whispered, “She was a good girl, wasn’t she?” She looked into my eyes.
    “She was,” I replied.
    She squeezed my hand and I shivered.
    The people from the mortuary were acting like they cared, but I thought that for them it was just another day, just another body being put in the ground.
    I walked away from the crowd to be by myself.
    I waited under a tree, watching from a distance, and when the casket was in the ground, I went over to this church lady who was handing out white roses and took one.
    I tossed the rose in the grave and whispered good-bye.
    Marcel came over beside me. “Hey, little dude,” I said, rubbing the top of his head.
    “Hey, Jamal.”
    “How you doin’, Marcel?” I asked.
    “I’m scared.”
    “Of what?”
    “To go back to our house. Everyone keeps saying they gonna come back looking for Dante. So me and Latrice are goin’ to live in San Diego with my auntie.”
    “For how long?”
    “Forever. Mama’s gonna sell the house and move down there too. She said we gotta get away.”
    I put my hand on his shoulder. “Stay outta trouble, little dude.”
    “I will,” he said.

Eddie
    While Jamal drove, I took in the panoramic view of the skyline. Palm trees basked in the sun against a background of blue. Suddenly, I felt ashamed for admiring the beauty of this world.
    I wanted to tell Jamal that this was all just a crazy dream. Muy loco. I wanted to tell him that it was okay to wake up now. Emako was going to open her eyes and arise from the coffin the way a vampire awakens after dark.
    The gates of the cemetery were painted white and I thought about how, when I