Only two more hours, Eva told herself.
It was like a black storm had suddenly descended onto the atmosphere. Everybody was already so tense and quiet, even the little kids could feel it. Once the coffin was brought in, that's when the waterworks started.
The body was revealed, and all hell broke loose. Men either frowned or sighed in distress. More than a few cried. The women did most of the work though. There was so many of them, all huddled together in groups, it was hard to tell whether they knew who they were mourning with or not anymore. For some, this was what they lived for.
Eva took a deep breath and checked her watch. One hour and forty six minutes.
All around, they wailed and shed floods of tears, and called out to the soul of the deceased as if it could hear them. Rain and darkness everywhere you looked, and everyone seemed to have sunk down to some level of insanity.
During the service, the little kids were not allowed near the coffin so that they wouldn't see the body. Eva volunteered to keep them outside; perhaps that would make the time go faster. Unfortunately, children were curious, and even at their age they could feel the desolation in the air. They were sad too, and they didn't want to go too far away. They were also scared of all the commotion and wouldn't go inside, even to sit in the back where they would have been shielded. Eva ended up sitting outside the entrance of the church with seven children huddling up close to her.
One hour and twenty-two minutes.
For a while, they sat in silence, listening to the mourners. Then the children started asking questions.
"Why is aunt Myrtle calling Carrie's name?"
Because she misses her.
"Where's my daddy?"
Inside, with mine.
"Is Carrie coming back?"
No sweetie.
"Where did she go?"
Someplace nice. You'll see her again someday, but hopefully not for a long time.
Her answers were confusing them, but it was all she could offer. The wailing was still going on inside the church. It angered her. None of them cared about Carrie more than Eva. What right did they have to grieve if she couldn't?
One hour, she repeated.
She estimated that there would be about twenty more minutes before the coffin was closed and taken outside for burial.
I'll be home in one hour. I can hold on, she told herself.
One of the children noticed her checking the time impatiently and asked if they could go inside now. She told them they had to wait until the service was over. Another then asked when that would be.
Eva sighed. Unlike the adults and everybody else inside, she couldn't find the will to be exasperated with them. "Soon," was her only reply.
Hopefully.
One of the boys, named Malcolm, broke his silence. "Eva, who is that?" he inquired.
A young man was sitting at one of the chairs. Eva guessed that he must have been present at the burial that preceded theirs, but he was alone. She couldn't understand why he would still be there after everyone else was gone. Maybe he was too devastated to leave. If that was the case, somebody should have stayed with him.
"I don't know," Eva replied.
"He looks sad," Bailey noted sympathetically.
"Of course he's sad," Malcolm retorted snappily. "It's a funeral."
