Chapter Ten
"Leon, did you get a ribbon?" Mrs. Kennedy asked as she rushed through the living room, trying to put on an earring though there was no mirror present.
"What? A ribbon? What for?" Leon asked but received no answer for his mother zoomed right out of the room to the kitchen, where a few of Leon's aunts were cooking. "What ribbon? What the deuce is she talking about?" he demanded.
Claire looked up at him curiously. "Deuce? What the devil does that mean?"
"Deuce means devil." Leon informed her. "God, haven't you ever watched TV?"
Claire hemmed under her breath and threw Leon's tie over his neck. " 'Deuce'... Sounds archaic."
"What the hell does that mean?" he took a deep breath. Relax, he told himself.
Claire fiddled with the tie for a few moments before she gave it up and let Leon do it on his own.
"Lanna--Leila? Leon!" As usually, his Auntie Avril went down the list of children before she got to his own. "Leon, boy-o, where's the spices your mother keeps? And shouldn't you have a ribbon on your arm?"
"Ribbon? I was asking my mom about that--" he turned to Claire. "Am I supposed to have a ribbon?"
Claire was about to reply when Mrs. Kennedy rushed by again, this time returning upstairs.
"Leon, could you please make sure everything is in order down here?" she started up the steps.
"Sure, mom." Leon told her. "What's that, Auntie Avril?"
"The spices." she replied.
"Oh." he was quiet before he spied Lanna rush past. "Lanna! Where does mom keep the spices?"
Lanna glared at him, looking harried and frustrated and tired. "I don't cook." she said witheringly. "Ask Leila."
Leon made an "I'm sorry" noise and swiveled around to look for Leila. She was sitting on the settee, the phone held up to her ear.
"Leila? Where's the spices so Auntie Avril can--"
"In the pantry." Leila shushed him, waving him away.
"In the pantry." Leon replied to his aunt who disappeared back into the kitchen.
Leon stood in front of the living room mirror and struggled to straighten his tie before Lalique broke his concentration by running into him, looking distracted.
"Hey--watch it!" Leon scolded to his younger sister. But Lalique was too frantic looking to acknowledge him.
"My music! Where's my music sheets!?" she demanded.
"What do you need them for?" Leon asked, rubbing his arm where Lalique and slammed against it; The whole incident brought up the raw pain from the bullet wound that Leon had thought was getting better. "We're going to dad's--" he stopped himself short because he didnt' feel like stating the obvious.
Lalique let out a frustrated sigh. "I need that, Leon! I'm going to sing daddy's favourite hymn."
"When was that decided?" the question just flew out of his mouth. He was always inquisitive by nature but sometimes he had the habit of saying unnecessary things at inappropriate times.
Instead of answering, Lalique threwup her hands in apprehension. She stomped off, clearly too stressed out to explain things. Leon didn't blame her. There was so much hustling and bustling in the house that it was starting to wear on his nerves.
"My hands are shaking too much." Leon mumbled. "Does anyone know how to do a decent tie around here."
"Leon," Leila said, slamming the phone down and standing up so fast she could have tipped over in those heels she was wearing. "Would you please not get in my way? For God's sake, we're all trying to get ready for this thing."
"Christ, Leila. What the hell did I do?" he asked.
Leila shook her head. "Nothing. You didn't do a damn thing." Leila turned to Claire, who was sitting innocently on the couch. "Men never do anything they say they will." she turned back to Leon. "For God's sake, Leon, would you please get the friggin' ribbon-sash thingy from the funeral lady before ma wallops you over your head?"
Leon would have been a little stung by her standoffish-ness but at the moment a smile spread over his face. Leila had been speaking so fast that she had unknowingly slipped into the slight Irish brogue that they had all picked up from their late grandfather. For all he knew, grandpa and dad could be up in the sky right now, looking down and... He shook his head and said, "If I knew where the friggin' ribbon-sash thingies were I would get them but as I don't even know what they are--"
Leila didn't wait for him to finish, simply walked away, ignoring him.
"Dam--" he began but was interrupted by Claire, telling him to calm down.
"Just breathe." She said, patting his shoulder.
"I don't want to breathe." he retorted. "I'm getting so frustrated. All the women in my house are being so difficult."
"Hey!" Claire exclaimed playfully. She tried another attempt at tying Leon's noose.
"Sorry. But you know what I mean."
"They're just stressed out, Leon. I know you are too but... you don't have PMS once a month, so chill out."
Leon laughed shortly and took a deep breath. Shaking his head, he looked sadly at the family portrait and to his father's face fondly.
"I didn't ever think it would be this hard."
Claire smiled softly. "Like I said before, 'it'll get harder'."
Without warning, Leon pulled her close to him, in a warm hug that sent a wave of peacefulness through her.
"I'm ready." he whispered in her ear, more for his own benefit than anything else.
"You are." she agreed, patting his back. "You can do this. It'll all be over before you know it."
"And then my father will be in the ground." Leon murmured.
Claire pulled away from him slightly and placed a small peck on his lips. "I'm..." she suddenly trailed, forgetting what she was going to say. Leon just looked so tired and frail. On the outside he looked completely alert, but when she stared deeply into his eyes, she still saw so much pain inside that he was forcing back. 'It'll all come out today...' she thought solemnly. 'Whether he wants it to or not.'
It took some doing but whatever last minute things that needed to be done where finished and the family was riding to the church.
"Here." Lanna said, handing Leon a piece of black satin-y material.
"What's this?" asked Leon, his voice hoarse.
"Your arm band." After a blank pause. "The damned ribbon you were looking for."
"Oh." Leon shrugged cluelessly still, even as Claire helped him secure the band on his sleeve.
The church was silent. A completely different universe, it seemed, from the outside world. From the cold breeze that blew violently through the trees and smell of air mixed with smog was the stillness of the church and the smell on incense permeating the air; you could tell there was a complete change in everything around you. Quiet, calm and tranquil were virtues here and Leon was quite sure he could hear every single movement in the building. His nose wrinkled in annoyance at the pungent smell of the incense that assaulted his senses. He sniffed once, twice then doubled over, resting his elbows on his knees and sighing. He felt a hand on his shoulder, drifting down his spine then up again to the nape of his neck where it began to massage the knots out of it.
Even if he hadn't glanced her with his peripheral vision, he could tell Claire was massaging him. She was facing forward, her eyes up, her posture steady; as if she were intent to out last the wall in a staring contest. She could have been listening to a sermon by the way she looked. No one would ever have thought she was instead massaging the stress out of him. She made it seem natural.
Leon straightened up and breathed heavily. Claire rested her hands on her lap and shared a sideway glance with him. Leon smiled and looked straight ahead. People started pouring into the church so heavily that Leon could barely accept their condolences as he turned to greet one after the other.
"I'm so sorry about your father, my dear." An elderly police officer said to Claire, placing a firm kiss on her forehead. Claire was stunned for a few moments before Lalaine giggled slightly.
"Mr. Canfield, that's my--that's not my sister." Leon nudged the man. "That's my...girlfriend."
Mr. Canfield looked genuinely surprised before turning to the side and glancing Lalique and Lalaine, who were seated together, looking like they were at casting calls for The Parent Trap.
"So sorry." Mr. Canfield said to Claire before turning to the girls. "I'm so sorry about your father, my dears."
Claire smiled slightly before clutching Leon's hand in hers. "I'll get used to it." she whispered softly. Leon wished he could feel that way. As it was all the "I'm sorry"s and the "How are you"s weren't getting easier to accept with time. It became harder. By the time the service began, Leon had gotten fed up with all the comiserations the people threw at them with automated voices and blank, empty eyes. Their laments served only as a catalyst for their grief. By the time everyone had their seats all his sisters had red eyes and dripping noses. Leon stared straight ahead, determined to mask his feelings behind a dark, heavy curtain that no one could penetrate through...no matter how hard they scrutinized or prodded. He wouldn't even look at Claire because he knew she would pierce through the smokescreen and see how he was really feeling.
Finally, the service began. The flow of people into the church ebbed and Leon noticed just how many people were already leaving. As if sensing his apprehension, Claire took hold of his hand and leaned into him. Leon had to tip his head down so she could whisper in his ear. "Most of them probably have to get back to work; I wouldn't be surprised if this was their lunch break." Her calm, reasonable explanation helped and Leon was able to lean back in his seat and focus his attention on his Uncle Dan, who was reading the eulogy for his younger brother.
Beautiful things were said about his father, eloquent, truthful things, but Leon didn't listen to them. He didn't need to listen because he already knew and didn't need anyone telling him. He glanced around once or twice and saw dozens of people crying and blowing into handkerchiefs. Suddenly, he caught sight of someone a few pews away from them. In the corner of the church, his Uncle Ralph was sitting straight-backed in his seat, looking solemnly at the closed casket, which was displayed at the front of the altar.
"Ouch." Claire gasped as Leon involuntarily squeezed her hand in his.
"Sorry." he mumbled, still looking at his wayward uncle.
Flexing her fingers with a grimace, Claire questionably followed his gaze and her features darkened. Shaking her head, she gave him a light peck on his cheek. "It's alright. Just ignore him." she said, her tone more pleading than it was admonishing. No doubt that none of the girls wanted another scene like that night...
But each moment that passed was painful. Leon bit down on his bottom lip, took deep breaths but nothing would make time go faster or the urge to lose his temper go away.
An eternity passed before the mass ended and the only reason Leon noticed it had wound up was because Lalique had squeezed past him to take her place at a microphone by the choir. She sang a song Leon had always heard his father tell her to sing when he died. Despite her red eyes and stuffy nose, the notes that arose from her petite form were clear and strong until the final strains when her voice cracked slightly and she buried her face into the shoulder of the kid next to her. Leon suspected he was a "friend" because of the way she clung to him and the way he whispered soothingly into her ear. As Leila went to gently pull her back to the family, Leon took his place at the side of the casket with the other pall bearers.
His hand gripped the side bars and when Uncle Jake gave the signal, he lifted up with all the strength in his left arm. The walk down the aisle to the exit was surreal; Salvador Dali couldn't have made it any more queer had he added his melted clocks and this-way-that-way staircases. The double doors opened and bright light blinded Leon's vision but he stumbled forward without stopping. His peripheral vision disappeared and all that was left was the light at the end of the walk and he suddenly had a feeling of irony. The light at the end of the tunnel... With a final resigned breath he stepped out of the church and they loaded the casket into the chrome and white hearse.
In order to save parking space at the cemetery where they were putting Frank Kennedy to rest, the family had ordered a tour bus to drive them and the remaining guests to the plot. During the ride Leon gazed listlessly out the window and noticed the increasingly darkening sky. Claire wasn't sitting next to him despite her constant companionship during the funeral mass; Lalaine had wanted to sit next to him on the ride over and Claire had smiled and took a seat a few rows down to give them space. Lalaine didn't say a word throughout the short ride, just leaned her head on Leon's shoulder and whimpered an inaudible utterance every now and then.
The cemetery grounds were muddy and slippery, as it seemed to have rained there already but the bus driver maneuvered through the muck with expert skill and loaded everyone out in front of the crypt where the casket had set up under a canopy. The funeral planners were already there, standing beside the priest who would give one last blessing before the ultimate...whatever they called it...
Leon was one of the last people out of the bus and when he gathered around the casket with his sister and mother, he was handed a yellow rose to place on the casket. He was also instructed to tie his black arm band around the casket's bars and take one of the crosses that was attached around it. Despite the macabre situation, Leon leaned over to his oldest sister and whispered coarsely, "God, they come off? I didn't know that." Lanna just shook her head and took her place beside their mother.
The crypt they were standing in front of was five "stories" high and he was told that his dad would be at the way top. That would make visits and flower replacements hard to do... When there was no more stalling to be done, each Kennedy stepped forward to place their rose and take their cross from the casket. Leon was the last and he did his task with difficulty. The bronze cross statuette in his hand was smooth except for a square of velcro at the back which the funeral parlour used to attach it to the casket.
A lift was brought in to help the pall bearers bring the casket up to the top crypt and Leon loaded it on without much feeling but a tear-stained face. Once it was loaded, the machine began to rise with a slow, jerky movement. As the casket was raised above his head, his heart exploded. What the HELL were they DOING?! "Stop this!" his mind shouted at him. "This isn't REAL! It's NOT happening! Why are you letting them take him away from you!?"
A sob burst in his throat and he started coughing. Two of his uncles placed their arms around his shoulders, their own shaking from the effort to hold in their own cries. He managed to choke out the word 'stop' but it was lost in the silence. Leon risked one last look at the casket and all he saw was the end of it, arrayed with shiny black sashes being slid into the crypt and then the funeral workers sealed the plaque with his date of birth and death. Leon stepped away from everyone and pounded his fist into the wall and groaned angrily into his arm.
"...once again, the Kennedy family would like to thank you all for joining them today. They also invite you to join them back at their home for a light merienda..."
Leon swallowed hard, drawing strength from nowhere and turned around. People were milling around, offering condolences and hugs. He saw Claire sitting on one of the folding chairs, her face pale and mournful. Shaking his head, he headed toward her... the damn girl was going to freeze her ass off if she continued going around without at least a sweater.
Upon approaching her, he slid off his coat and draped it over her shoulders.
"Let's go." he whispered and nodded to everyone who was getting on the bus. Claire nodded numbly and allowed Leon the satisfaction of leading her onto the bus.
As it turned out, the "light merienda" wasn't so very light as his aunts had been cooking since the night before and when they entered the house the smell of food hit them full force. Guests arrived shortly after they set up and they invited them in. But there's always a certain amount of pity and sympathy that a person can take. Leon had had enough of condolences and 'I'm so sorry's. He couldn't even enjoy his favourite dish without someone coming up to him, their mouths full of food, mumbling about how 'sorry' they were and then complimenting the chef's work. His mother was in the kitchen having coffee with some family friends, his sisters were circulating the room, offering different plates to people and Claire was on the side talking with a few friends of Leon's from high school.
Feeling a bit claustrophobic, he decided to take a break outside. But on the way out he decided a walk would be better so he headed down his driveway and out of the neighborhood.
"Leon, did you get a ribbon?" Mrs. Kennedy asked as she rushed through the living room, trying to put on an earring though there was no mirror present.
"What? A ribbon? What for?" Leon asked but received no answer for his mother zoomed right out of the room to the kitchen, where a few of Leon's aunts were cooking. "What ribbon? What the deuce is she talking about?" he demanded.
Claire looked up at him curiously. "Deuce? What the devil does that mean?"
"Deuce means devil." Leon informed her. "God, haven't you ever watched TV?"
Claire hemmed under her breath and threw Leon's tie over his neck. " 'Deuce'... Sounds archaic."
"What the hell does that mean?" he took a deep breath. Relax, he told himself.
Claire fiddled with the tie for a few moments before she gave it up and let Leon do it on his own.
"Lanna--Leila? Leon!" As usually, his Auntie Avril went down the list of children before she got to his own. "Leon, boy-o, where's the spices your mother keeps? And shouldn't you have a ribbon on your arm?"
"Ribbon? I was asking my mom about that--" he turned to Claire. "Am I supposed to have a ribbon?"
Claire was about to reply when Mrs. Kennedy rushed by again, this time returning upstairs.
"Leon, could you please make sure everything is in order down here?" she started up the steps.
"Sure, mom." Leon told her. "What's that, Auntie Avril?"
"The spices." she replied.
"Oh." he was quiet before he spied Lanna rush past. "Lanna! Where does mom keep the spices?"
Lanna glared at him, looking harried and frustrated and tired. "I don't cook." she said witheringly. "Ask Leila."
Leon made an "I'm sorry" noise and swiveled around to look for Leila. She was sitting on the settee, the phone held up to her ear.
"Leila? Where's the spices so Auntie Avril can--"
"In the pantry." Leila shushed him, waving him away.
"In the pantry." Leon replied to his aunt who disappeared back into the kitchen.
Leon stood in front of the living room mirror and struggled to straighten his tie before Lalique broke his concentration by running into him, looking distracted.
"Hey--watch it!" Leon scolded to his younger sister. But Lalique was too frantic looking to acknowledge him.
"My music! Where's my music sheets!?" she demanded.
"What do you need them for?" Leon asked, rubbing his arm where Lalique and slammed against it; The whole incident brought up the raw pain from the bullet wound that Leon had thought was getting better. "We're going to dad's--" he stopped himself short because he didnt' feel like stating the obvious.
Lalique let out a frustrated sigh. "I need that, Leon! I'm going to sing daddy's favourite hymn."
"When was that decided?" the question just flew out of his mouth. He was always inquisitive by nature but sometimes he had the habit of saying unnecessary things at inappropriate times.
Instead of answering, Lalique threwup her hands in apprehension. She stomped off, clearly too stressed out to explain things. Leon didn't blame her. There was so much hustling and bustling in the house that it was starting to wear on his nerves.
"My hands are shaking too much." Leon mumbled. "Does anyone know how to do a decent tie around here."
"Leon," Leila said, slamming the phone down and standing up so fast she could have tipped over in those heels she was wearing. "Would you please not get in my way? For God's sake, we're all trying to get ready for this thing."
"Christ, Leila. What the hell did I do?" he asked.
Leila shook her head. "Nothing. You didn't do a damn thing." Leila turned to Claire, who was sitting innocently on the couch. "Men never do anything they say they will." she turned back to Leon. "For God's sake, Leon, would you please get the friggin' ribbon-sash thingy from the funeral lady before ma wallops you over your head?"
Leon would have been a little stung by her standoffish-ness but at the moment a smile spread over his face. Leila had been speaking so fast that she had unknowingly slipped into the slight Irish brogue that they had all picked up from their late grandfather. For all he knew, grandpa and dad could be up in the sky right now, looking down and... He shook his head and said, "If I knew where the friggin' ribbon-sash thingies were I would get them but as I don't even know what they are--"
Leila didn't wait for him to finish, simply walked away, ignoring him.
"Dam--" he began but was interrupted by Claire, telling him to calm down.
"Just breathe." She said, patting his shoulder.
"I don't want to breathe." he retorted. "I'm getting so frustrated. All the women in my house are being so difficult."
"Hey!" Claire exclaimed playfully. She tried another attempt at tying Leon's noose.
"Sorry. But you know what I mean."
"They're just stressed out, Leon. I know you are too but... you don't have PMS once a month, so chill out."
Leon laughed shortly and took a deep breath. Shaking his head, he looked sadly at the family portrait and to his father's face fondly.
"I didn't ever think it would be this hard."
Claire smiled softly. "Like I said before, 'it'll get harder'."
Without warning, Leon pulled her close to him, in a warm hug that sent a wave of peacefulness through her.
"I'm ready." he whispered in her ear, more for his own benefit than anything else.
"You are." she agreed, patting his back. "You can do this. It'll all be over before you know it."
"And then my father will be in the ground." Leon murmured.
Claire pulled away from him slightly and placed a small peck on his lips. "I'm..." she suddenly trailed, forgetting what she was going to say. Leon just looked so tired and frail. On the outside he looked completely alert, but when she stared deeply into his eyes, she still saw so much pain inside that he was forcing back. 'It'll all come out today...' she thought solemnly. 'Whether he wants it to or not.'
It took some doing but whatever last minute things that needed to be done where finished and the family was riding to the church.
"Here." Lanna said, handing Leon a piece of black satin-y material.
"What's this?" asked Leon, his voice hoarse.
"Your arm band." After a blank pause. "The damned ribbon you were looking for."
"Oh." Leon shrugged cluelessly still, even as Claire helped him secure the band on his sleeve.
The church was silent. A completely different universe, it seemed, from the outside world. From the cold breeze that blew violently through the trees and smell of air mixed with smog was the stillness of the church and the smell on incense permeating the air; you could tell there was a complete change in everything around you. Quiet, calm and tranquil were virtues here and Leon was quite sure he could hear every single movement in the building. His nose wrinkled in annoyance at the pungent smell of the incense that assaulted his senses. He sniffed once, twice then doubled over, resting his elbows on his knees and sighing. He felt a hand on his shoulder, drifting down his spine then up again to the nape of his neck where it began to massage the knots out of it.
Even if he hadn't glanced her with his peripheral vision, he could tell Claire was massaging him. She was facing forward, her eyes up, her posture steady; as if she were intent to out last the wall in a staring contest. She could have been listening to a sermon by the way she looked. No one would ever have thought she was instead massaging the stress out of him. She made it seem natural.
Leon straightened up and breathed heavily. Claire rested her hands on her lap and shared a sideway glance with him. Leon smiled and looked straight ahead. People started pouring into the church so heavily that Leon could barely accept their condolences as he turned to greet one after the other.
"I'm so sorry about your father, my dear." An elderly police officer said to Claire, placing a firm kiss on her forehead. Claire was stunned for a few moments before Lalaine giggled slightly.
"Mr. Canfield, that's my--that's not my sister." Leon nudged the man. "That's my...girlfriend."
Mr. Canfield looked genuinely surprised before turning to the side and glancing Lalique and Lalaine, who were seated together, looking like they were at casting calls for The Parent Trap.
"So sorry." Mr. Canfield said to Claire before turning to the girls. "I'm so sorry about your father, my dears."
Claire smiled slightly before clutching Leon's hand in hers. "I'll get used to it." she whispered softly. Leon wished he could feel that way. As it was all the "I'm sorry"s and the "How are you"s weren't getting easier to accept with time. It became harder. By the time the service began, Leon had gotten fed up with all the comiserations the people threw at them with automated voices and blank, empty eyes. Their laments served only as a catalyst for their grief. By the time everyone had their seats all his sisters had red eyes and dripping noses. Leon stared straight ahead, determined to mask his feelings behind a dark, heavy curtain that no one could penetrate through...no matter how hard they scrutinized or prodded. He wouldn't even look at Claire because he knew she would pierce through the smokescreen and see how he was really feeling.
Finally, the service began. The flow of people into the church ebbed and Leon noticed just how many people were already leaving. As if sensing his apprehension, Claire took hold of his hand and leaned into him. Leon had to tip his head down so she could whisper in his ear. "Most of them probably have to get back to work; I wouldn't be surprised if this was their lunch break." Her calm, reasonable explanation helped and Leon was able to lean back in his seat and focus his attention on his Uncle Dan, who was reading the eulogy for his younger brother.
Beautiful things were said about his father, eloquent, truthful things, but Leon didn't listen to them. He didn't need to listen because he already knew and didn't need anyone telling him. He glanced around once or twice and saw dozens of people crying and blowing into handkerchiefs. Suddenly, he caught sight of someone a few pews away from them. In the corner of the church, his Uncle Ralph was sitting straight-backed in his seat, looking solemnly at the closed casket, which was displayed at the front of the altar.
"Ouch." Claire gasped as Leon involuntarily squeezed her hand in his.
"Sorry." he mumbled, still looking at his wayward uncle.
Flexing her fingers with a grimace, Claire questionably followed his gaze and her features darkened. Shaking her head, she gave him a light peck on his cheek. "It's alright. Just ignore him." she said, her tone more pleading than it was admonishing. No doubt that none of the girls wanted another scene like that night...
But each moment that passed was painful. Leon bit down on his bottom lip, took deep breaths but nothing would make time go faster or the urge to lose his temper go away.
An eternity passed before the mass ended and the only reason Leon noticed it had wound up was because Lalique had squeezed past him to take her place at a microphone by the choir. She sang a song Leon had always heard his father tell her to sing when he died. Despite her red eyes and stuffy nose, the notes that arose from her petite form were clear and strong until the final strains when her voice cracked slightly and she buried her face into the shoulder of the kid next to her. Leon suspected he was a "friend" because of the way she clung to him and the way he whispered soothingly into her ear. As Leila went to gently pull her back to the family, Leon took his place at the side of the casket with the other pall bearers.
His hand gripped the side bars and when Uncle Jake gave the signal, he lifted up with all the strength in his left arm. The walk down the aisle to the exit was surreal; Salvador Dali couldn't have made it any more queer had he added his melted clocks and this-way-that-way staircases. The double doors opened and bright light blinded Leon's vision but he stumbled forward without stopping. His peripheral vision disappeared and all that was left was the light at the end of the walk and he suddenly had a feeling of irony. The light at the end of the tunnel... With a final resigned breath he stepped out of the church and they loaded the casket into the chrome and white hearse.
In order to save parking space at the cemetery where they were putting Frank Kennedy to rest, the family had ordered a tour bus to drive them and the remaining guests to the plot. During the ride Leon gazed listlessly out the window and noticed the increasingly darkening sky. Claire wasn't sitting next to him despite her constant companionship during the funeral mass; Lalaine had wanted to sit next to him on the ride over and Claire had smiled and took a seat a few rows down to give them space. Lalaine didn't say a word throughout the short ride, just leaned her head on Leon's shoulder and whimpered an inaudible utterance every now and then.
The cemetery grounds were muddy and slippery, as it seemed to have rained there already but the bus driver maneuvered through the muck with expert skill and loaded everyone out in front of the crypt where the casket had set up under a canopy. The funeral planners were already there, standing beside the priest who would give one last blessing before the ultimate...whatever they called it...
Leon was one of the last people out of the bus and when he gathered around the casket with his sister and mother, he was handed a yellow rose to place on the casket. He was also instructed to tie his black arm band around the casket's bars and take one of the crosses that was attached around it. Despite the macabre situation, Leon leaned over to his oldest sister and whispered coarsely, "God, they come off? I didn't know that." Lanna just shook her head and took her place beside their mother.
The crypt they were standing in front of was five "stories" high and he was told that his dad would be at the way top. That would make visits and flower replacements hard to do... When there was no more stalling to be done, each Kennedy stepped forward to place their rose and take their cross from the casket. Leon was the last and he did his task with difficulty. The bronze cross statuette in his hand was smooth except for a square of velcro at the back which the funeral parlour used to attach it to the casket.
A lift was brought in to help the pall bearers bring the casket up to the top crypt and Leon loaded it on without much feeling but a tear-stained face. Once it was loaded, the machine began to rise with a slow, jerky movement. As the casket was raised above his head, his heart exploded. What the HELL were they DOING?! "Stop this!" his mind shouted at him. "This isn't REAL! It's NOT happening! Why are you letting them take him away from you!?"
A sob burst in his throat and he started coughing. Two of his uncles placed their arms around his shoulders, their own shaking from the effort to hold in their own cries. He managed to choke out the word 'stop' but it was lost in the silence. Leon risked one last look at the casket and all he saw was the end of it, arrayed with shiny black sashes being slid into the crypt and then the funeral workers sealed the plaque with his date of birth and death. Leon stepped away from everyone and pounded his fist into the wall and groaned angrily into his arm.
"...once again, the Kennedy family would like to thank you all for joining them today. They also invite you to join them back at their home for a light merienda..."
Leon swallowed hard, drawing strength from nowhere and turned around. People were milling around, offering condolences and hugs. He saw Claire sitting on one of the folding chairs, her face pale and mournful. Shaking his head, he headed toward her... the damn girl was going to freeze her ass off if she continued going around without at least a sweater.
Upon approaching her, he slid off his coat and draped it over her shoulders.
"Let's go." he whispered and nodded to everyone who was getting on the bus. Claire nodded numbly and allowed Leon the satisfaction of leading her onto the bus.
As it turned out, the "light merienda" wasn't so very light as his aunts had been cooking since the night before and when they entered the house the smell of food hit them full force. Guests arrived shortly after they set up and they invited them in. But there's always a certain amount of pity and sympathy that a person can take. Leon had had enough of condolences and 'I'm so sorry's. He couldn't even enjoy his favourite dish without someone coming up to him, their mouths full of food, mumbling about how 'sorry' they were and then complimenting the chef's work. His mother was in the kitchen having coffee with some family friends, his sisters were circulating the room, offering different plates to people and Claire was on the side talking with a few friends of Leon's from high school.
Feeling a bit claustrophobic, he decided to take a break outside. But on the way out he decided a walk would be better so he headed down his driveway and out of the neighborhood.