The Mulberry Bush Page 29
The comrades, impassive, tidying up, wadded the duct tape into a ball and threw it after Tom and Diego, then closed the door and went back to their seats.
The plane banked. There was a moon that night. By its light, before the comrades closed the door, I saw that we were over the Atlantic where, at last, Felicia rested in peace.
It was over. I had my revenge. All I had to do now was live with it.
They say that the dead know everything, so maybe Father was having the last laugh in some afterworld for souls consigned to an eternity of mirth. If so, he laughed alone, but he was used to that.
In time, I supposed, I would get used to it, too.