hated them all for a lot
of things, but she loved them all for that. And if Gabriel couldn’t
hear all those resounding amens then he surely needed himself
some hearing aids.
“Amen,” I whispered, staring at the coffin yet again, picturing
Granny smiling. Then I bowed, good actor that I am, and headed
back to my pew. I had mixed feelings about it being over, though,
because the tough part was still yet to come.
Pearl held my hand when I sat down. “Your Granny would’ve
been mighty proud of you, boy. You sure done told it like it is.
And that woman liked for people to say what they mean and
mean what they say.” She nodded and smiled. “Especially if she
came out looking good as a result.”
“Especially,” I agreed. “Besides, it isn’t too good to lie in the
house of the Lord. Least not when he’s about to judge your only
kin.”
“Amen,” both Jeeves and Pearl said. And I could’ve sworn I
saw just the slightest tear welling up in that old man’s eyes. Then
again, the pollen count was off the charts that day, so it was hard
to tell for certain.
Then the service was done with, the creepy preacher bowing
his head in one final prayer before telling the folks who wanted to
go to the burial where they should go. Me, I would’ve preferred a
nice stool at a nice bar, but this being Sunday, I wouldn’t have had
much luck. The South was nice for a lot of reasons, dry Sundays
not being one of them. Not that people didn’t get shit roaring
drunk, of course, just not so much in public, where the good
Lord could see you. Trust me, when you’re from the South, that
does indeed make some bit of sense.
We piled out after that, Zeb catching up to us before we
reached the Bentley, the rest of the staff milling about, none of
them any happier than we were about what needed to get done
next: one Granny, one meal ticket, good and buried. Still, it was
nice to see Zeb again. “You done real good, Trip,” he whispered
40 Rob Rosen
in my ear, his hand squeezing mine before anyone was the wiser.
“You think Granny would’ve liked it, Zeb?” I asked, locking
eyes with his, butterflies swarming all at once inside my belly.
“She would’ve loved it, Trip,” he replied, smiling and nodding.
“You done put her in the best light possible.”
I returned his smile in kind. “Which wasn’t an easy thing to
do, all things considered.”
He laughed. “I reckon not. Your Granny was more of an
acquired taste. Kind of like wanting to eat snails.”
See! See! Talk about being on the same wavelength. And,
damn, if those butterflies didn’t go wild at that comment. “And
you’re all coming to the burial, right?”
He nodded, again. “We’ll all be standing right behind you,” he
told me. “Wouldn’t have it any other way. Miss Jackson was our
acquired taste, too, Trip. Seeing as how she done acquired all of
us, I mean.” An odd if not apt choice of words.
And then we were off. As before, I stared out the window,
though we only had to drive less than a mile. People like to be
buried as close to the church as they can be around those parts;
gives them a sense of peace, I suppose. Plus, the cemetery and
the church are as far way from the water as possible. Don’t want
your earthly remains or your house of worship to be washed out
to sea come the first bad rains. Or land you on the wrong side of
the tracks, heaven forbid.
We all made it to the cemetery a short while later, Granny
included. Mostly it was just us, those closest to her. The townsfolk
already made their required appearances; they’d done their parts
and were off the hook. Still, there were some old biddies scattered
here and there, neighbors who knew Granny when she was my
age or younger. Not too many of them left, so I figured they were
there to gloat. Though they’d all be following her soon enough.
Guess this was just a preview before the big event for them. I
know, I know, morbid thoughts for
of things, but she loved them all for that. And if Gabriel couldn’t
hear all those resounding amens then he surely needed himself
some hearing aids.
“Amen,” I whispered, staring at the coffin yet again, picturing
Granny smiling. Then I bowed, good actor that I am, and headed
back to my pew. I had mixed feelings about it being over, though,
because the tough part was still yet to come.
Pearl held my hand when I sat down. “Your Granny would’ve
been mighty proud of you, boy. You sure done told it like it is.
And that woman liked for people to say what they mean and
mean what they say.” She nodded and smiled. “Especially if she
came out looking good as a result.”
“Especially,” I agreed. “Besides, it isn’t too good to lie in the
house of the Lord. Least not when he’s about to judge your only
kin.”
“Amen,” both Jeeves and Pearl said. And I could’ve sworn I
saw just the slightest tear welling up in that old man’s eyes. Then
again, the pollen count was off the charts that day, so it was hard
to tell for certain.
Then the service was done with, the creepy preacher bowing
his head in one final prayer before telling the folks who wanted to
go to the burial where they should go. Me, I would’ve preferred a
nice stool at a nice bar, but this being Sunday, I wouldn’t have had
much luck. The South was nice for a lot of reasons, dry Sundays
not being one of them. Not that people didn’t get shit roaring
drunk, of course, just not so much in public, where the good
Lord could see you. Trust me, when you’re from the South, that
does indeed make some bit of sense.
We piled out after that, Zeb catching up to us before we
reached the Bentley, the rest of the staff milling about, none of
them any happier than we were about what needed to get done
next: one Granny, one meal ticket, good and buried. Still, it was
nice to see Zeb again. “You done real good, Trip,” he whispered
40 Rob Rosen
in my ear, his hand squeezing mine before anyone was the wiser.
“You think Granny would’ve liked it, Zeb?” I asked, locking
eyes with his, butterflies swarming all at once inside my belly.
“She would’ve loved it, Trip,” he replied, smiling and nodding.
“You done put her in the best light possible.”
I returned his smile in kind. “Which wasn’t an easy thing to
do, all things considered.”
He laughed. “I reckon not. Your Granny was more of an
acquired taste. Kind of like wanting to eat snails.”
See! See! Talk about being on the same wavelength. And,
damn, if those butterflies didn’t go wild at that comment. “And
you’re all coming to the burial, right?”
He nodded, again. “We’ll all be standing right behind you,” he
told me. “Wouldn’t have it any other way. Miss Jackson was our
acquired taste, too, Trip. Seeing as how she done acquired all of
us, I mean.” An odd if not apt choice of words.
And then we were off. As before, I stared out the window,
though we only had to drive less than a mile. People like to be
buried as close to the church as they can be around those parts;
gives them a sense of peace, I suppose. Plus, the cemetery and
the church are as far way from the water as possible. Don’t want
your earthly remains or your house of worship to be washed out
to sea come the first bad rains. Or land you on the wrong side of
the tracks, heaven forbid.
We all made it to the cemetery a short while later, Granny
included. Mostly it was just us, those closest to her. The townsfolk
already made their required appearances; they’d done their parts
and were off the hook. Still, there were some old biddies scattered
here and there, neighbors who knew Granny when she was my
age or younger. Not too many of them left, so I figured they were
there to gloat. Though they’d all be following her soon enough.
Guess this was just a preview before the big event for them. I
know, I know, morbid thoughts for
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