>>5978414“What do you fight for?” The question bounced off walls, swung down from the ceiling, skipped on the table like a pebble aimed right at your breast. You opened your mouth in the shape of “Memory”, but no sound came out. The shot had taken the wind out of your lungs.
“The grace and peace of God our Father, who raised Jesus from the dead, be always with you.”
Again you returned home, or what outlived it. The coarse fabric of the rental veil scraped against your scalp, itching no matter the adjustment. The thrum of cars were faint, filtered through veils of leaves. The droning fliers occasionally dashing overhead were unfortunately more noticeable. In a dense city like Jefferson, volume is as scarce as space, and communal areas even could not escape this cold forwardist logic.
Unable to wrestle the tie into not strangling its wearer, you undid the knot and stuffed the whole thing in the breast pocket of your vest. A black dress would be more appropriate for this occasion, but you had barely made it in time as it were running straight from the office. Mrs Plauf softly admonished your unfeminine appearance, but what did she know? Jimi was all the rage back then.
Professor Eszter, the only male present beside the priest, shook your hand and offered his condolences. You apologised in return for ruining this beautiful weekend of his. Your mother should have kept more balanced company. It only took one man to make her disavow all men. To her, infidelity is hardcoded into the Y chromosome, as inevitable as original sin.
A helper boy handed you the urn and showed you to your shotgun seat. The elderly priest, clearly enjoying this excursion away from the dusty dampness of the parish chapel, motioned for the crowd to quiet down before starting the rites, “Today, we are all gathered here to mourn the passing of a coworker, a friend, above all, a mother...”
You observed the joggers, the new parents, the cyberhound walkers sieved through the park. “He turned to the body and said, ‘Tabitha, get up.’” What were they thinking about? Just another funeral, nothing to see here. The wife is on the too young side, don't you think, honey? Please, let there be refreshments afterwards. “Sown in weakness... raised in power.”
