Yes, Master

Chapter Seven: Perfect Comfort

   After two tear-filled days, it's the day of the funeral. We go to the dilapidated old chapel and sit in the front pew. Other members of the village, from neighbors to just friends, come up to eulogize about Mama. They talk about memories, tell stories she never got to tell us. Remember. Her warmth. Her smile. Her love. Her beauty. Her light.

   With each eulogy, my tears increase. So many memories she made, but so many she won't be there to make.

  When it comes close to the time for my eulogy, Curtis wraps an arm around me. "Get it together, Rosalie," he whispers. I yank his arm off of me. No way am I allowing him to use my pain as an excuse to get close to me.

  When I come up to the little podium, I'm choking back tears. "Mama," I start, "was a beautiful person." All of a sudden, everything comes flooding out. I talk about the memories. From the time I was born, to her relationship with Papa, right down to when she was sick. Everything comes out in an uncontrollable blob of chatter. By the end of my eulogy, I'm crying. I feel like a weight has been lifted. Mama lived a good life and it was just her time to go. I will never get over her death, but I know I will always have great memories of her.

   When we get out of the chapel, we go to the small cemetery in the chapel's yard. The casket is lowered in  to a hole in the ground. I throw roses on to the casket and Lily throws lilies. I lean down and hug Lily. "Lils," I say, rubbing her back, "we're going to be strong. We're going to recover. We're going to love again and live again." As I say this, I realize this isn't just a lie, a false reassurance. We will recover. We will live and love.

  We return to the apothecary's shop and when I see the cots on the floor, the worry about living quarters returns. We can't live in the apothecary's shop forever. Mr. Davies turns to us and sees our tear-stained faces.

  "Girls..." he says, trailing off. He doesn't do anything, just hugs us. This gesture reminds me so much of my father that I cry even more "Oh, you poor orphaned girls," he says.

  After he hugs us, I ask, "Mr. Davies, we've been staying in your shop for so long. Is it possible to find other living quarters?" 

   "Oh, girls. I'm afraid not. Listen, I'll give you a deal. In exchange for help in our shop, instead of living in the shop, you could live in our hut. It will be a squeeze, but it's the least I could do for you poor girls," he says. I jump up, thanking him repeatedly. One worry down. A million to go.

  A few days later, I return to work. I see Alexander still has a black eye when I come in.

  "Oh, Alexander. I'm sorry. Just a jealous friend who thought we were more than friends," I say.

  "I'm sorry about your mother. I don't blame him for beating me up. I went too far," he says.

   "Whatever," I say dismissively, returning to my work. As I work, I think back to my outburst a few weeks ago. I remember complaining about my sick mother. If only I knew... This thought brings on tears. The tears stream silently down my cheeks as I work. Down and down, like the droplets of rain on the window.

  Later that day, when I'm supposed to be working, Alexander finds me sitting and crying. He looks at me, then looks away. Then he sits down on the floor next to me and strokes my cheek. He pulls me close and kisses me. His comfort feels so much better than Curtis's that I just let him sit and hold me. And it's perfect.