“You’re a fag?” Billy says. “My mother dies and my brother is a fag? What next?”
“Billy,” Hilary says, “be quiet. Grow up.” She walks into the living room, across the rocks, and looks out the front window. The street is empty except for a car passing quickly in the snow. The sky is dark.
“Fucking shit,” Billy says in the kitchen.
“Where is she?” Tess says, when she has stopped laughing.
Sue goes into the living room and turns on the TV. She sits back on the couch, her feet on the rocks, and holds her belly close. “How are you feeling?” Hilary asks her.
“I’ve been better,” Sue says.
In the kitchen Tess says again, “Where’s Becka?” She looks around. The dolls stare back at her.
“In the hearse,” Dick says. “I’ll need help rolling the casket around to the backyard.”
“This is insane, you know,” Tess says. “You could lose your licence. We could all be arrested. You can’t bury a body in the backyard.”
“It’s what Mother would have wanted,” Hilary says, coming back into the kitchen. “No one will know about it. We’ll be quiet. We’ll hide ourselves and be quick about it.”
“How long have you been a fag?” Billy asks Thomas.
“When are you going to grow up? There’s nothing wrong with a person being gay.”
“There is when he’s my brother. Jesus, I shared a room with you.”
Billy and Thomas look each other up and down. Billy is standing up at the counter. He is playing with the empty bottle of Scotch and he’s drinking straight out of the bottle he found in the cupboard. He chooses to forget about his glass.
“It’s my life, Billy,” Thomas says.
“Have you always been a fag?”
“I’m gay, Billy, not a fag. And yes, I’ve always been gay.” “Christ. I’ve showered with you in the gym.”
“Which hurts you more, Billy? That your mother is dead or that I’m gay?”
“Fucking Christ,” Billy says. He swigs from the bottle. He feels sick to his stomach. He swallows more Scotch and it burns his throat. “I should kick your ass in,” he says. “I should beat the hell out of you.You goddamn buggering —”
“Billy,” Tess says, “smarten up.”
Billy slams the bottle down on the counter and raises his hand to hit someone. “No one tells me I’m stupid,” he shouts. He turns around to all the people in the kitchen, his hand high, not really knowing who he wants to strike. He isn’t sure if he really wants to hit someone or if he just wants to curl in a corner and cry like a baby.
“Calm down,” Dick says. “Let’s all remain calm. This is a funeral. Let’s respect that.”
Billy turns quickly and hits Jonathan. Jonathan falls back, the blow knocks him into the stove, but he remains standing. He turns his face away from Billy.
“Jesus,” Thomas shouts, pushing his brother aside.
“You’re the one I should have hit,” Billy hisses at his brother. “I should kill you.”
“What’s your problem, Billy?” Tess shouts. “At least Thomas is in love. What’s wrong with being in love?”
Thomas checks Jonathan’s face for cuts, sees a large bruise forming on Jonathan’s dark cheek.
Billy stands back, shaking his fist out. He lost both his jobs. His mother is dead. A black man. His brother fucks a black man.
Hilary wonders if her mother would ever have thought this possible. Her children, gathered around in the same room at her funeral, come together one last time to say goodbye.
Tess’s face is drained of colour. She is tired. She is standing now and holding her hand up in front of Billy’s face. Billy shakes his hand out. It hurts.
“You,” Tess shouts. “You make me sick. I’m sick of this.” “What’s going on?” Dick whispers to Hilary.
“Family,” Hilary says.
Billy drinks again from the bottle. “Here’s to family reunions,” he says. He raises the bottle in a toast.
“Family reunions,” Hilary echoes.
“Billy’s drunk,” Tess says to Jonathan. “I would apologize for him but —”
“But what?” Billy shouts.
Thomas says, “You shouldn’t have to apologize, Tess. He’s not your responsibility.”
“Yes,” Tess says. “You’re right. He’s not my responsibility any more, is he?”
“We should get on with the service,” Dick says. He doesn’t want to release Hilary’s hand but he has a job to do. “Is there a tarp around here? We should put your mother to rest before the snow gets too thick, before more of the neighbours are looking out their windows.”
Jonathan rubs his cheek carefully. “This is a funeral,” he says, “not a gay bashing.”
“Wouldn’t know that,” Billy says. “Look at the balloons.” He kicks one that floats past him in the breeze from the forced air of the furnace.
Thomas feels something itchy lodged in his throat. He coughs. His brother hit his lover. This doesn’t seem possible. He is mad at both of them, at Billy and Jonathan. He told Jonathan not to come.
“A long time ago Mother would have liked a party,” Hilary says. “When Daddy was here, they liked to have parties.”
Dick squeezes her hand. “I like it,” he says. “It reminds me of an Irish wake.”
Sue shouts from the living room. “Can’t you guys please keep it down? I’m trying to watch something.” The volume goes up on the TV and the people in the kitchen can hear the loud roar of a laugh track.
They are gathered around the hole in the ground, looking down into the whiteness, into the snow that stuck to the earth before the tarp was hung from the tree and the fence. There is no sound but the muffled stillness of falling snow. The air is crisp and cold. The wind is quiet. Dick shuffles his feet.
“Christ, it’s cold,” Sue says. She stamps her red cowboy boots on the ground.
Behind them the house is lit up. Every room glows. The air from the furnace has pushed the balloons up against the patio doors. Hilary thinks it looks as if ten little heads are staring out at them.
Dick turns towards the gathering and places his hands together in prayer. Everyone follows his lead. But he doesn’t pray. He merely holds his hands, palms together, fingers stretched high, and he closes his eyes.
Thomas coughs gently.
The casket sits alone on the front driveway of the house, in the back of the black hearse. MORTIMER’S FUNERAL HOME is written in fancy script on the side doors of the car.
“I’ll need some bearers,” Dick whispers. He looks up at the gathering huddled under the tarp and then over at the neigh-bours’ houses. He watches Jonathan, wearing an apron, barbecue hot dogs and hamburgers in the falling snow. Jonathan’s cheek is swollen and discoloured. His shoulders are slumped as if he’s given up the fight. As each drop of snow falls on the coals there is a small hiss and a puff of smoke. Dick feels that something is going to go wrong tonight. Not just the battle in the kitchen but something else horribly dangerous. The air is thick with trouble. The neighbours on one side have the lights in the back of their house off. The neighbours directly behind them seem to be out for the night. Their house is also black. That’s a good sign. The fence is high around the property. The nosy neighbour is sitting in his window reading a book, but Dick hopes that with his light on he might not be able to see that much. The tarp covers most of what is going on. Dick thinks that with a little luck and good timing. . . .
“We’ll cover the casket,” Dick says. “We’ll move quickly.” Billy and Thomas stand forward.
“We’ll need you too, Jonathan,” Dick says.
“He’s not carrying my mother’s coffin.”
“Casket,” Dick mumbles.
“I’ve lived with him for fifteen years,” Thomas shouts. “Fifteen goddamn years, Billy. That’s almost as long as you’ve been married to Tess.”
Billy looks at Tess.
“Shhh,” Dick says. “Do you want someone to call the police?” “And th
ey’re still in love, Billy,” Tess whispers. “Some people stay in love after that many years.”
“Jesus, Tess,” Billy says.
Billy is still limping from twisting his ankle on Hilary’s rocks. He follows Dick around the house. Jonathan follows Thomas. On the count of three they pull Becka’s casket out of the hearse, place it on a frame with wheels, pull a tarp over it, and roll it awkwardly to the backyard while the women wait. Thomas holds his breath. His lungs feel like bursting. He can’t get over how heavy the casket is to push. Billy stumbles in the snow. The neighbour in the window stares down at his book.
Around the back of the house, Hilary gasps when Dick takes the tarp off the casket. “Oh God.”
“The burgers,” Jonathan says, seeing smoke rise from the barbecue. “It’s lovely, it’s beautiful,” Hilary says.
“It’s a gift,” Dick whispers, clearing his throat.”For you, Hilary.”
Hilary sucks in her breath and holds it. She wants to touch the casket, run her hands up and down its polished blue finish. “Blue something,” she says, with a rush of air. “Wasn’t it called Blue Light or something?”
Dick says, “Blue Diamond.”
“That’s funny,” Billy says. “A blue coffin. Do you make pink ones too? You know, one for a boy, one for a girl? Or do some boys like pink?” He looks at Thomas. Billy’s stomach is warm, on fire. “A coffin for a present,” he laughs. “What would you think of that, Tessy? Want me to buy you a coffin? Or would you prefer perfume? Candies? Chocolate? A blue coffin—Jesus.”
“Shut up, Billy,” Tess says. “This is a funeral.”
“Do you think I don’t know that?”
Sue says, “Hurry up, please. It’s cold out here.” She stamps her feet on the ground and looks down at her footprints.
Dick clears his throat. The casket is raised from the ground. It is high up on the frame with wheels that they used to roll it from the hearse. It is closed. Reflections of lights from the houses around glow on it. White shine. Soft, night-sky blue. Hilary runs her fingers over the surface. No matter what Billy says, the present is wonderful.
“Shall we open it?” Dick asks. He looks out from the tarp and up at the man next door. He isn’t in his window any more. Dick holds his breath.
“Open it?” Tess opens her mouth. She feels too close to death. She doesn’t want to see it, stare it in the face.
“Yes,” Hilary whispers.
“Let’s just get this over with,” Sue says. “It’s freezing out here.” “You can go inside,” Tess says. “You don’t have to stay for this.”
“She was my grandmother.”
“And how often did you visit, Sue?” Billy says.
“Open it.”
“Oh, honey,” Tess says to Hilary, “you’re just grieving. Let your mother be. Let her rest.”
“We are not opening that coffin,” Thomas says.
“Casket.”
“Why not?”
“She’ll get wet,” Billy says. He laughs.
“She’s under the cover.”
“She’ll get cold.”
Dick clears his throat again. “It’s common,” he says, “for the family to have a last viewing. It reassures family to know that it really is their loved one that they are burying.”
“Reassures us?” Thomas asks. “To know that her body is going under ground? That’s ridiculous.”
“I want to put something in there with her,” Hilary says. “I want to bury her with something.”
“She’ll catch a cold,” Billy says. “She’ll get wet and get sick.” He chuckles. He wants another drink.
Jonathan raises a spatula in the air. “Thomas, your sister wants —”
“You shut up,” Billy shouts. “I’ve heard enough from you.” “Quiet,” Dick says.
“Let’s just bury her,” Thomas says, “so we can all go home. Billy needs to sober up.” He doesn’t want to see her face again, her bald head. “Someone say something and let’s just get it over with. The neighbours might call the police.”
“I don’t need to sober up,” Billy says.
“I want to see her,” Hilary says. “I want to say goodbye. You have to let me say goodbye. I want to see my mother.”
Dick looks over the fences at the houses surrounding them. He feels shivery and worried. The man in the window next door is still missing from the chair he was sitting in. The light is on.
“Lighten up, Thomas,” Billy says. “Just open it or we’ll be here all night. Most people have a viewing.”
Sue agrees. “I wouldn’t mind seeing her,” she says.
“Go,” Tess whispers. “Just go. Just go on.”
Dick moves to open the casket. “Those of you who do not wish to view her, please turn around or go into the house.”
Thomas turns around.
Tess turns around. “Sue,” she says,”avert your eyes.” But Sue stays facing forward.
Dick opens the latch and pushes back the top half of the lid. He hovers over Rebecca Mount for a minute, adjusting, straightening her wig, and then he stands tall and looks proudly down at his work.
“A scarf?” Hilary says. “I didn’t give you a scarf.”
“It’s silk,” Dick says.
Thomas turns back and sees his mother’s face, her wig, her neck covered with silk, her tiny body almost swimming in her purple dress, and he starts to cry. He can’t help himself. Jonathan moves to comfort him.
“Jesus Christ,” Thomas says. “She looks fine.” He is half glad that he is looking at her, that he will now remember her like this instead of the way he saw her in the funeral home, yellow and bald.
“But she doesn’t even look like Becka. Is that Becka? Are you sure?” Billy says.
Dick clears his throat. “When the soul disappears there is only the shell left. And the shell is only that—a shell, some skin, some bones.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” Billy looks at Dick. “Something I read once,” Dick says.
Hilary looks at her mother, at the transformation that has taken place, and then she looks up at Dick. “She looks wonderful.” “Thank you.”
Hilary bends over her mother. Up close she can see the makeup lines. She looks carefully, taking it all in, her eyes filled with tears. She wants to remember every pore on her face. She touches the silk scarf. She whispers something. Dick watches her closely. And then Hilary moves back and fetches something she has hidden on the porch. Her father’s old running shoes. She places them in the casket next to her mother, the dirt from the soles spotting the purple dress.
“What are you doing?” Billy asks.
“Burying a piece of Daddy with her,” Hilary says. “These are his shoes. They’re the last thing she heard of him. His shoes on the linoleum floor. Walking out.”
“But he must have been wearing the shoes that he left with. Not those,” Billy says.
“I know that,” Hilary says. “Don’t you think I know that?” Her voice rises.
“It’s symbolic,” Thomas says. “Let her be.”
“This is crazy,” Tess says. “This is just crazy.” Tess has turned and is looking at her dead mother-in-law’s face. She thinks that maybe they had more in common than she ever knew.
Billy limps up to the casket. He looks into his mother’s resting face. He picks up the empty Scotch bottle from where it was resting beside the hole, carried out of the house with the tarp, and he puts it into the casket, beside the shoes. “As long as we’re giving her things.”
“What are you doing?” Thomas asks.
“Burying my bottle,” Billy says.
“Don’t worry,” Tess says. “It’s empty.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“She didn’t drink,” Thomas says. “What are you doing?”
“I know how it got empty,” Sue says.
Billy looks at his daughter, at his wife. “I’m trying to better
myself,” Billy says. “And none of you care.You don’t care what
I do.” “Better yourself?” Tess asks. “What’s that supposed to mean?” “I’m burying my Scotch bottle,” Billy shouts.
“Shhh,” Dick says.
“I’m burying it. Don’t you get it? You almost died, Tess. “ Becka is lying there, still. The snow falls down around them. It covers the tarp.
“Nothing is going to change,” Tess says.
“Shall I close it now?” Dick asks.
“Wait,” Thomas says. “Just wait a minute.” He stands there, thinking. He thinks that he should add something to the collection she is amassing, something meaningful. Thomas goes into the house and roots around a while in the kitchen and dining room. He goes up into his bedroom, Hilary’s bedroom, his mother’s bedroom. He stays inside for quite a long time. Dick is getting impatient. Hilary jumps a bit from one foot back to the other. Dick leans over and wraps his arms around her shoulders and holds on tight. Hilary stops shaking and stands paralysed.
“People change,” Billy is saying. “Every day people change.” Tess looks away, out into the night. She holds her hands tight around her large body.
Thomas finally comes out again. He is holding something small in his hand. He found it under his mother’s pillow. He places it into the casket. It is easily hidden and Thomas pushes it down towards Becka’s lap, under the lid. He shudders when he touches her. She is so cold.
“What was it?” Billy asks.
“Nothing.”
Hilary says, “I have something else I want to put in. Wait a minute.” She goes inside and gets her doll, the one with the emerald dress that her father gave her, and takes it outside.
“What is this? Is she a garbage can?” Tess asks.
One eye closes on the doll. It’s winking at Hilary. She holds the doll for a minute and then she walks over and places it inside the casket, just beside her mother. When she puts the doll in she feels down and touches what Thomas put in their mother’s lap. She runs her fingers quickly over the surface. She breathes deeply.
Billy’s stomach tightens. His bowels feel loose. “She looks like she’s holding a baby,” he says. He feels suddenly as if he has the beginnings of a flu. He shakes his head.
What We All Want Page 21