AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Thank you. Anyone else?”
Cabel nudges Janie. She pokes him back.
And then, and then.
Dorothea says, “I want to say something.”
Janie freaks out inside.
The rabbi nods, and Dorothea takes a few unsteady steps to where she can turn around and face the crowd.
What is she going to say? Janie glances at Cabe, sees his eyes are worried too.
Dorothea’s thin voice isn’t easy to hear in this wide-open space.
At least, it isn’t until she starts yelling.
“Henry was the father of Janie, here. The only man I ever loved. But he left me after I quit school for him, and my parents wouldn’t let me back home. He was crazy and a horrible person. He ruined my life, and I’m glad he’s dead!” With that, Dorothea fumbles at the zipper of her purse.
“Dear God,” Cabe whispers.
The small crowd is completely shocked into silence. Janie rushes over and guides her mother back to the spot where they were standing. She feels her face boiling and red. Sweat drips down her back. She purposely averts her eyes from the guests. Mortified.
It doesn’t help that Dorothea manages to get her purse open and makes only a small effort to hide that she’s taking a swig from the flask.
Rabbi Greenbaum hastens to speak.
Cabe rests his hand on the small of Janie’s back to comfort her. He looks down at the ground and Janie can see the amused look on his face. She feels like stomping on his foot. And pushing her mother into the grave hole. Wonders what sort of sitcom that would turn this scene into.
Janie looks up and catches the rabbi’s attention. “May I say something?” she asks.
“Of course,” Rabbi Greenbaum says, although he looks uncertain.
Janie stays where she’s standing and just looks at the casket. “I’ve known my father for one week,” she says. “I’ve never seen him move, never looked him in the eye. But in that short time, I found out a lot about him. He kept to himself, didn’t bother anybody, just lived the life he was given the best way he knew how.
“He wasn’t crazy,” she continues.
“Was too,” Dorothea mutters.
“He wasn’t crazy,” Janie repeats, ignoring her mother, “he just had an unusual problem that is really hard to explain to anybody who doesn’t understand it.” Her voice catches. She looks at her mother. “I think, and I’ll always believe, that Henry Feingold was a good person. And I am not at all glad he’s dead.” Janie’s lip quivers. It’s like the numbness is suddenly wearing off. “I wish I had him back so I could get to know him.” Tears trickle down her face.
When it is clear that Janie has said all that she has to say, the rabbi leads Kaddish, a prayer. Then he smiles and beckons Janie to come around the other side of the grave, guiding her to the pile of dirt. Cabel takes Dorothea by the arm and follows. There are several shovels on the ground. They each pick one up.
Janie takes a heaping shovelful of dirt and holds it over the hole in the ground. A trickle of dirt slips off and hits the casket below. She can hardly bear to turn the shovel. The rabbi murmurs something about returning to dust, and finally she turns the shovel over. The thud of the dirt on the wood hurts her stomach.
Dorothea does the same, her arms shaking, and Cabel does it too, and slowly each member of the small crowd takes a shovelful of dirt and releases it into the hole. They continue to fill it.
And that’s when Dorothea loses it.
She falls to her knees, almost as if she’s just now realized the truth of it. “Henry!” she cries. Her sobs turn to deep shudders. Janie just stands next to her, unable to help. Unwilling to try to stop it.
Such a mess. Janie can see it now, all the guys at the department talking about Janie’s mother the drunk, the one who ruined a funeral, the one who fucked around and had an illegitimate daughter and isn’t fit to do much of anything but be an embarrassment. She shakes her head, tears streaming down her cheeks as she gets more dirt.
It doesn’t matter anyway.
When they are finished, the mound of fresh earth tamped off, Janie knows she has to face the guests. Cabel gets Dorothea to the car.
Janie lays her shovel on the ground. She straightens again and Captain is there.
Captain embraces Janie. Holds her. “You did well,” she says. “I’m so very sorry for your loss.”
“Thank you,” Janie says, tears flowing fresh again. This isn’t the first time Janie’s cried on Captain’s shoulder. “I’m so embarrassed.”
“Don’t be.” Captain’s voice is firm—it’s a command. For Janie, it’s nice to have somebody else running the show for a moment, at least. A relief. Captain pats Janie’s back. “Will you be sitting shivah?”
Janie pulls away to look at her. “I don’t think so. What’s that, again?”
Captain smiles. “It’s a time of mourning. It’s usually a week, but whatever you decide.”
Janie shakes her head. “We . . . I don’t . . . I didn’t even know I was half-Jewish until last week. We don’t practice or anything.”
Captain nods. Takes her hand. “Come by my office when you’re ready. No hurry, okay? I think we need to have a talk.”
Janie nods. “Yeah, we do.”
Captain squeezes Janie’s hand and Janie greets the guys from the department. Janie wants to try to explain, apologize for her mother’s behavior, but the guys don’t let her get a word in about it. They offer condolences and by the end, they’re making Janie laugh. Just like always.
It feels good.
Cathy remains by the grave until the guys have left, and then she approaches Janie. “Thank you for the note.”
“He’d be glad to know you came, I think,” Janie says.
“I dropped off a couple more boxes. They’re sitting outside on his step. You want me to return to sender?”
Janie thinks for a moment. “Nah,” she says. “I’ll take care of it. I’ll probably have something that needs to go out tomorrow, then, so . . . ” Janie doesn’t want to explain here. She’ll have all the time in the world to talk to Cathy next week.
“Just request a pickup like you did last time on the Internet, okay? I’ll be sure to get them.” Cathy looks at her watch. “I got to get back to work. You take care. I’m real sorry.”
“I think you knew him best of anyone, Cathy. I’m sorry too.”
“Yeah. Yeah, thanks.” Cathy looks down. She turns and walks to her truck.
Charlie and Megan embrace Janie in a group hug. “You gonna be all right, kiddo?” Charlie asks.
“Sure, she is,” Megan says. “She’s tough as nails. But we’re here for you if you need us, right?”
Janie nods gratefully, thanking them.
And then Carrie and Stu are there, offering comfort. Stu’s wearing the same shirt and outdated tie that he wore to the senior prom, and it makes Janie smile, remembering. So much has happened since then.
“I can’t believe how many people came,” Janie says. “Thank you. It means a lot.”
Carrie grabs Janie’s hand and squeezes it. “Of course we’d come, you idiot.”
Janie smiles and squeezes back. “Hey,” she says, “where’s your ring?” and then she stops, worried.
Carrie grins and grabs Stu’s hand with her free one. “No worries. We decided that we weren’t quite ready for that, so I gave it back. He’s keeping it safe, aren’t you, honey?”
“Very,” Stu says. “Thing was freaking expensive.”
Janie grins. “I’m glad you guys are doing okay. Thanks again for coming, and Carrie—thanks for all you did.”
“Most entertaining funeral I’ve ever been to,” Carrie says.
Stu and Carrie wave good-bye and walk through the grass to Ethel, swinging hands. Janie watches them go. “Yeah,” she says. “Way to go, Carebear.”
Janie goes over to the strangers who remain in a small group, talking quietly. “Thank you very much for all you’ve done,” Janie says.
One speaks f
or all of them. “No thanks necessary. It’s an honor to care for the bodies of the deceased. Our sincerest condolences, my dear.”
“I—thanks. Er . . . ” Janie blushes. She looks around and spies the rabbi. Goes to say good-bye. Afterward, seeing no one else, Janie makes her way to the car.
“Not one single flower!” Dorothea is saying. “What kind of funeral is that?”
Cabel pats the woman on the hand. “Jews don’t believe in cutting down a living thing to honor the dead, Ms. Hannagan. They don’t do cut flowers.”
Janie closes the door and leans her head back on the seat. It’s nicely cool inside. “How d’you know that, Cabe?” she asks. “Ask-a-rabbi-dot-com?”
Cabel lifts his chin slightly and puts the car into drive. “Maybe.”
4:15 p.m.
When there’s a knock at the screen door, Janie rouses herself from a nap on the couch, her mother safely tucked away in her room. She fluffs her hair and grabs her glasses.
It’s Rabinowitz.
“Hi. Come in,” Janie says, surprised.
He’s carrying a box in one hand and a basket of fruit in the other. He brings them inside and puts them on the kitchen counter. “This is to help sweeten your sorrow,” he says.
Janie is overcome. “Thank you.” The words seem too small to express what she is feeling.
He smiles and excuses himself. “I’m still on duty but I wanted to drop them off. I’m sorry for your loss, Janie.” He waves and ducks out the door.
All of the nice.
All of it.
It only makes it harder.
4:28 p.m.
