good. The wild animal purred like a big fat cat. I mean it, it felt like an actual paw flexing and purring cat.
He scanned the small gathering. He took a beat longer on my mom, and then sought out my face with an amused smile. Rex came back and flipped my hand with his nose for a rub.
The funeral director ushered out a guy pushing a chrome gurney. Stroud went around to the back of the truck and opened the big door with Eric and me in curious pursuit. Arthur put his arm around Mom and led her back to the stone table.
Grandma was wrapped securely in quilted blankets and sandwiched between cartons of IV tubing and nitrile gloves. There were flower sprays and small arrangements tucked in here and there. They moved boxes and slid her around until they’d maneuvered her onto the gurney, which they wheeled quickly in the side door.
“I appreciate you doing this,” said Eric.
“No problem,” said Stroud. “I was coming this way.”
I gave him a hug, the blue shirt made his eyes even richer. I’m think my nipples reached out and stroked his chest. “Thanks. It’s nice to see you.”
He glanced down at my breasts and the corners of his mouth turned up, then he met my eyes, ”You too.”
The funeral director was back and they discussed escape routes.
“You’re leaving?” I asked.
“Yeah,” he said. “I’ll meet you there.”
He whistled for Rex. They climbed in the cab, did some impressive maneuvering, and drove away.
“He seems nice,” said Eric. “Do you realize your cheeks look like red apples?”
“That obvious? He taught biology.”
“College?” he asked.
“High school,” I said.
“Huh. Well next thing will be sprayed on jeans with pumps,” he said.
“You noticed her get up?”
“I’d have to be blind. Let’s get this over with. Where’s Binky?”
Binky wasn’t back yet. Eric punched in Ted’s number while I got Emily out of the car and wandered back to the table. We could hear Binky’s voice before she was out of the car. Her walk looked a little drifty.
Eric went into the office to marshal the troops. The funeral director solemnly led us to the family plot. I hadn’t been there in years. Grandma would be buried with familiar names.
I don’t know when they’d done it, but Grandma was waiting for us. Her casket, adorned with a large floral spray, sat on a low platform with what looked like a poufy bed skirt. There were no chairs set up. We hadn’t planned on a crowd, which is where we hit snag number two. In all the hubbub about the guest list and who’s an alcoholic, no one had planned an actual service. Binky’s current Catholicism notwithstanding, we’re not a religious family. No one knew any good prayers off the top of their head. I had Emily, but it seemed like someone needed to kick things off. Enter Arthur.
“I didn’t know Minerva,” he began. “But in the little time I’ve known her daughter, I know she must have been a strong and loving person. I’m happy you included me today.”
Well done, Arthur. I glanced at Mother to see if she’d missed the Ella. I figured she’d feel touchy about him getting her mother’s name wrong, even if they had only known each other for a few days. I was. Ella is my middle name. I liked it, even though I thought it sounded odd with Hannah; it made a clip clop sound. No one had asked me. Mom was starting to cry; probably because her heels had sunk in and taken root in the grass. She was firmly planted, with a slight backward tilt. Her hand gripped Arthur’s arm like a claw. Nice manicure, Mom. He undoubtedly thought she was feeling loving and just trying to be strong.
I looked at Eric and raised my eyebrows. He shot the funeral director his this–is-what-you’re-paid-for look. The funeral director caught it.
“Why don’t we say the Lord’s Prayer,” he said.
We bowed our heads and he began, “Our father who art in heaven….”
Oh boy. It’s the prayer they say at the end of every Alanon and AA meeting; too
Mary Crockett, Madelyn Rosenberg