Ring! Ring!
"What?" It's Lorraine's mother who answers the phone.
"Ms. Jensen? This is the principle of Lorraine's school."
"What has she done this time? She was slutting it up with that John kid, wasn't she?"
"Not at all. Lorraine is an excellent student. Could I speak to her?"
"Lorraine! Your principle's on the phone!"
I could hear Lorraine running to the phone. "Yes?"
"Hey."
"Oh. John, listen, I..."
"Could you meet me at the cemetery?"
"John, I don't think we should hang out together anymore. Not after what happened to Mr. Pignati."
"Please, Lorraine? I don't want to go alone. And I'm not about to ask Nortan to go with me!"
"I don't know."
"Please, Lorraine? Tell your mom that you have a project to do."
I heard her sigh loudly into the speaker. "Okay," Lorraine said, "But only this one time."
I got to the cemetery before Lorraine did. I lit a cigarette and thought about how all of us baboons would end up in our own tombs in cemeteries like this one. Baboons all over the world getting their own tomb. I heard loud gagging from behind me. I turned around and saw Lorraine covering her mouth and nose with a hand.
"One of these days you are going to end up dead because of that thing," she said and pointed to my cigarette.
I shrugged and pretended I didn't care. I walked away from her.
Lorraine trotted after me. "Where are you going?" She panted.
"You'll see," I said and continued to walk. Lorraine followed me.
We walked in silence for a few minutes until Lorraine said, "So...what did you want to talk to me about?"
"I didn't say I wanted to talk. I want to show you something."
"Show me what?" Lorraine asked.
"You'll see," I said again.
About ten minutes later, I stopped walking. "What is it?" Lorraine asked. I pointed toward a grave. Lorraine followed my finger. "Conchetta Pignati!" She exclaimed.
"Yes," I said, "But that's not what I meant to show you." I lead her toward the grave next to Conchetta's. Lorraine gasped when she saw the name inscribed on the tombstone.
Angelo Pignati
Lorraine looked like she was about to cry. I laid a hand on her shoulder. "He didn't die because of you, Lorraine," I reminded her.
"I know," Lorraine said, "He died because of you."
I squeezed her hands with my own. "Angelo Pignati did not die because of you or because of me or even because of Nortan. He died because he was lonely and old and it was his time to die."
Lorraine squeezed my hand. "I miss him."
"So do I."