Carmen was in the bathroom and pulled herself away from her own reflection.
“You should have put something else on,” she complained. “It’s so embarrassing; we should have gotten a suit. People will wonder why you’re not dressed up.”
“Fine, but I don’t have a suit,” he said, feeling hurt. “You always complain, but I do as best I can. And clothes aren’t important anyway. This is about Tommy.”
Carmen turned back to the mirror and stared at herself. Yes, she was satisfied, Nicolai thought. Tommy was going to be buried and Carmen was satisfied with how she looked. It really bothered him. He leaned against the door frame. He knew that he wasn’t good enough and was deeply ashamed of his shabby clothes. He heard a car pull into the yard and went over to the window and looked out. He waved at the people in the car and went out to meet them. Pappa Zita’s sturdy frame towered over the top step; behind him was Elsa in a navy blue suit.
“How are you, my boy?” Zita asked, holding his hand. He held it for a long time, while a single tear trickled down his cheek. Then he crossed the threshold and came in. “This is a sad, sad day,” he said, his eyes piercing through Nicolai. “We have to be strong.”
Nicolai didn’t answer. There was nothing to say, other than it was the blackest day of his life. He had not been so sad since the day his parents died in their Cessna, Bird Dog, in a violent storm. It all came back to him now with full force. Zita reached out his hand again but this time ruffled his hair. Nicolai did not turn away. He had always liked Zita and knew this was a clumsy caress from a man in mourning.
“Is Carmen ready?” Zita asked and walked down the hallway.
“Yes, she is,” he said with a wan smile, wondering whether his parents-in-law would react to her daring dress. Just then, Carmen came out of the bathroom, tottering on high heels. The black dress was so tight that any movement was restricted to tiny steps across the floor. She gave her father a long hug, swallowed by his generous embrace and weeping bitter tears.
“Put a jacket on,” her father said firmly. “Your dress is beautiful, but it’s too low and not appropriate for church.”
Carmen made a disappointed face and protested vociferously. It was far too warm to wear a jacket, and she didn’t like her father’s objections. “What kind of jacket do you mean?” Carmen whined. “The dress won’t be visible otherwise.”
“A cardigan,” her father said. “Surely you’ve got a cardigan?”
“She does,” said Nicolai, who had sat down on the sofa. “Your dress — it’s not a party we’re going to.”
“I dressed up for Tommy,” Carmen said, smarting. “And all you do is complain.” She pouted like she always did when she didn’t get her own way.
Nicolai closed his eyes and groaned. He couldn’t believe that they were in this situation. They were about to go to church to bury Tommy, and this was the end. He wanted so much to be strong, to be dignified in his grief. But more than anything, he just wanted to let go and cry like a baby. Carmen turned on her heel and disappeared into the bedroom. They could hear her slamming doors and drawers. After a while she came out again with a cardigan over her arm.
“Put it on,” her father said sternly. “It’s a church and you need to be covered. People will react if you sit there with bare shoulders.”
“If it gets too hot, I’m going to take it off,” Carmen retorted. “I don’t care what you say. I’m the one who’s lost my baby, so I decide.”
“OK. The dress is lovely,” her father conceded, “but it is better suited to other occasions. Do you have anything simpler, a little more respectable?”
“No,” Carmen said petulantly. “This dress fits all the rules. It’s black. All my other dresses are bright and colorful. Pink and blue and yellow. And I don’t want to wear pants on a day like today.”
“Then you must be prepared for people to comment,” he said. “You look lovely, Carmen. Don’t get me wrong. I’m just trying to give you some advice. Remember that I’m older than you. There are some things I know more about.”
“You’re just old-fashioned; that’s all it is,” she said. “And what’s more, you’re a Catholic, and I’m not. So there.”
Her father wiped the beads of sweat from his brow. Carmen’s iron will overwhelmed him and made him weak.
“I don’t want to drink coffee and eat cake. I don’t want to exchange clichés. I don’t want to dig up old memories about what has been, the good old days,” Carmen had said. She had also told the people from Sentrum and the female priest who was performing the funeral service that she couldn’t face watching Tommy’s coffin being lowered into the grave. The three spades of earth on the lid. So the ceremony was going to finish in the church. Nicolai had protested in his hesitant way. He felt that it would be betraying Tommy in some way not to follow him to the grave; in fact, he thought it was cowardly. But she didn’t listen. It was always Carmen who won. Carmen with all the tears. Carmen whom he, in brief moments of desperation, did not believe.
Finally they were on their way in the black car, progressing slowly through the late summer streets. People were caught up with their everyday lives. Going outside to call in the kids, he thought. Shouting and taking it for granted that they would appear. Healthy and happy and full of energy. Alive and without injury. Imagine if it was all a bad dream, he thought. Was that possible? Maybe if he dozed off in the back seat, he would wake up afterward in his old, happy life. He tried to relax his body and breathed as slowly and steadily as he could. But it didn’t help. He couldn’t sleep and couldn’t forget all the awfulness. The nights were insufferable and he couldn’t bear them.
“I don’t like female priests,” he said. “I wish we’d gotten someone else. Sorry, but I just had to say it. You can call me what you like. But the way I feel at the moment, I don’t care what you think.”
Carmen turned around in the passenger seat and gave him an angry look. “Do me a favor,” she said, exasperated. “She’s who we’re having. And she knows what she has to say. So why bring it up?”
“I don’t know,” he answered honestly. He felt ashamed. “I just don’t like them. It should be a man, because they have more authority. I don’t like female doctors either. And I don’t like policewomen. You’ll just have to accept the fact that I think differently from you.”
Elsa made no comment. It was warm, so she had taken off her suit jacket. She was wearing a white blouse with a bow at the neck underneath. Elsa had always been a bit uptight, but Nicolai had nothing against her. She was a kindly soul. When she said something, she meant it, and he liked that.
“I’m sure it will be a good funeral, all the same,” Zita assured him, trying to smooth things over. They stopped for a red light. There was some roadwork and one side of the road had been closed. A convoy of eight cars drove toward them and edged past. A group of three men in safety vests filled in the holes in the road with soft, hot asphalt. An intense smell of tar lingered as they drove past.
In the church, the sun streamed in through the stained-glass windows and illuminated the images of intense red, green, and blue. A woman sowing corn; an apple tree bearing red fruit; a flock of birds departing from a branch; and a sky lit up by a bright, blazing sun. But that was not what Nicolai saw. His attention was fixed on the small coffin by the altar, drowned in a sea of blue and pink flowers. A heart, a wreath, a bouquet. He managed to walk, but his legs felt like they wanted to buckle. The church bells hurt his ears. Soon the church organ would pump out its mournful music, as though death was something beautiful. As though this would soothe the pain. Carmen walked beside him up the aisle in her short, tight dress.