Page 2 of The Burning
I try to scan the pews for Karina; she must be here by now. She said she was coming straight here from the coffee shop. Next to me, my mom coughs again. She’s been doing that more and more lately. She’s had this cough for about two years now, maybe more. Sometimes it goes away and she’s rewarded for quitting smoking. Other times it’s wet and she gripes about how she might as well light up a Marlboro. I’ve argued with her half my life, since I was ten and I heard her doctor tell her she was going to lose a lung if she didn’t quit. I look down at her as she rubs the tissue along her lips, coughing deeper. Her tired eyes close for a second before she goes back to staring blankly at the flower-covered stage. The casket is closed, of course. No one wants these children to see the barely recognizable body.
Fuck, I have to stop. I’ve spent God knows how many hours with medical professionals tasked with fixing me, so you’d think I’d be better at keeping those thoughts out. It never works, the techniques they teach us. The darkness is still there, unmovable. Maybe I should tell the government to get a refund on my therapy? They paid for it, as they should, but did it work? Clearly not. Not for Silvin, not for me, not for the body in the casket on stage.
Count down,they recommended when my mind got this way.
Count down and think of something that brings you joy or peace. Feel your feet on the ground, know you’re safe now,they repeated.
I think ofherwhen I need peace. I have since I met her. It only lasts so long until reality sets in and I want to punish myself for the fact that she’s not in my life anymore, and I walk deeper into the darkness.
I don’t get the chance to finish my self-therapy session.
“We’re going to begin if everyone can take their seats now.” The funeral director’s voice is soft and unaffected. He probably does this a few times a week.
The room quiets and the funeral begins.
After the service, we stay sitting while some line up for a last goodbye. Silvin catches my eye and points upward, like he’s trying to tell me something. As I look up, someone taps me on the shoulder. I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that I briefly hope it’s Karina. Even though I’m sure it’s not.
And of course, it’s not. It’s Gloria, standing behind me in a black dress with white flowers stitched across the top. I think I’ve seen her in that dress at all ten funerals. Today has been a wild fucking ride already, from meeting Karina at the coffee shop this morning, to seeing Silvin again, to losing the bid on a hell of a deal on a fourplex apartment just outside Fort Benning—and now seeing Gloria, who always reminds me of her husband. I’ve been failing to come to terms with the situation with him. It’s proven to be a lot harder than anything I’ve done in my entire life.
“Hey Gloria.” I get up from the pew and hug her.
Gloria hugs me and pulls back, then hugs me again.
“How are you? I’ve been worried about you. You never answer my calls anymore.” She makes a face. “Asshole,” she whispers, looking me straight in the eyes.
“I’ve been swamped with work and you know I hate the phone.”
She rolls her dark eyes. “The kids miss you, okay? And they ask about you a lot.”
The kids. Acid that rises from guilt burns my throat.
“I miss them, too.” I look at her feet where the littlest one usually clings. “I’ll call more, I’m a shitbag.” I smile at her and she nods, letting me off the hook a little.
“You are a total shitbag,” she agrees with a smile on her face. “Uncle Shitbag still needs to call them once in a while.” She looks up and down my face. “I didn’t even recognize you at first because of this.” She touches her palms to the stubble on my jaw.
“Yeah. I’m a free man now and decided to start acting like one.”
“I’m glad. It’s good to see you. Even if it’s here of all places. And you—” She looks at my mom, and without breaking her conversation with the woman she recognized from earlier, my mom hugs and kisses her on the cheek.
“Karina looks great.” Gloria purses her lips and stares into my eyes. “She always does but she looks . . . ”
I look away as she pauses.
“She looks happy. That’s what it is.” She smiles.
Gloria always loved Karina, and I’ve heard through the grapevine that they still hang out; the gossip reached me even though I’d moved far away from post.
Happy?
She couldn’t have seemed further from happy this morning, but maybe I would only get the cold, detached Karina now. It’s not like I didn’t deserve that.
I quickly scan the church for Karina’s hair. It’s brown again. That color that’s “right between chestnut and chocolate,” she told me once. It was her go-to color when she felt like she had her shit together. Controlling and changing her hair color was one of her rituals. She had many little things she did to exercise control while disguising it as luck.
“Yeah. I’m glad she is,” I tell her. “I saw her this morning.”
She doesn’t have to tell me that she already knows. It’s easy to gather from how unaffected she is.
“Anyway, the kids with you?” I change the subject. She gives me another eye roll and shakes her head.
