Awkwardness tripped our sadness as the light drizzle dampened our shoes. The women’s’ high hair sinking slowly with the droning of the priest’s implied lecture. The men wiped at the fog on their glasses; scratched at their tired legs with boorish shoes. Hushed sounds of rustling clothe against clothe among the people kept us sane. No tears fell in reality but you could hear the waterworks of those ignorant bastards wiping at dripping noses. The smell of fresh dirt surrounded by old grass filled us with despair but only for ourselves, and ourselves alone.
Mrs. Katherine wept on the ground while her husband gawked at her back. He raised his chin high staring into the sun while he dried his weakness with the sun’s heat. Turning away and avoiding eye contact, he bent over gathering his wife. He whispered softly into her ear, “Stand up, you’ll get your dress dirty.”
Mrs. Katherine nodded leaning on her husband. “Right, right.” She had been saying that all day, “Right, right, right...” As they huddled away with feet of anchors Mathew glared at them from under his cap. I nudged his shoulder.
“If they put that much emotion into living relationships I might actually feel sorry for them.” He snickered.
I casually glanced around making sure that no suspicious eyes were watching, “There’s a time and place for that kind of talk and now’s not that time.”
Taking his hat off, he flicking at the stray droplets. His hands rubbing vigorously against the rim. “Let me see this written rule that says I can’t speak my thoughts freely.”
“Its curtesy man. Just be quiet.”
“I don’t believe in this so called “curtesy” but I’ll oblige this once.” His hat retook its place on his head. “Maybe you should go check up on Ruth then. She looks all lonesome standing up there by herself.”
I sighed, “She feels guilty.”
“We all feel kind of guilty.” I raised my eyebrows, “okay, okay mostly guilty.” He placed his hands on my back and pushed me forward, “Just go and leave me here to be silent.” A finger softly placed itself in front of his lips and he winked. He was a gentleman alright.
No one cared to move a muscle for the floating piece of trash that was me as I made my way over. The usual treatment at even such prestigious gatherings. I gently placed my hand on Ruth’s arm which seemed to have startled her. Her eyes flashed excitement and then washed away with disappointment as she came to the realization it was only me. It felt weird to see her here. The scene just didn’t fit her at all.
“How are you doing?”
“Original question Devon.” Her nails tapped against her thigh which meant she wanted a cigarette.
Reaching into my coat pocket I offered her one. She snatched it out of my hand, without a thanks, placing it between her teeth. Her hand still held out waiting for the lighter. Placing it in her palm I took out one for myself and waited for her to return the lighter. We huffed out the smoke in the direction of the priest and chuckled as he tried to speak calmly through his muffled coughs.
“She would have thought that was funny.” Her face turned cold. Guess you can’t actually have fun at a funeral without a sense of pity for not being the one dead.
“Way to bring down the mood.” I blew another puff this time by myself.
Her eyes down casted towards the grass her voice dropped, “Devon?”
“Hmm?”
“Is what we did wrong?” And she makes fun of me for giving cliché lines?
Even though it wasn’t burnt out I dropped the cigarette in the grass and crushed it with the soul of my shoe. I took out another and lit it while staring down at her grave. “I’m not sure Ruthy. We can’t undo what we did so what’s the point in questioning it.”
“I suppose so.” She spoke in that way that made echoes. It meant she wasn’t going to say anything more. Her lips were sealed. So we joined the others listening to the words no one actually cared about, and placing the grim frown on our faces.
I swear the sky was turning an even darker shade of gray. Maybe it was the atmosphere that was affecting me. The devil was sitting on my shoulder again. I didn’t know if what we did was the right thing. How does one know what’s truly right and wrong? All those rules are made up by someone else’s personal judgment anyway. Why do all of us have to follow those principals? We’re not born to be mindless?
There really is no point in asking though. We all know what response we’d get anyway if we told someone what we’ve done. Ruth knew that too. She was probably the one who most aware of it.
I let out final puff of toxin as Mrs. Katherine began to cry again. Mathew stepped beside me as the coffin began to lower.
There really was no easy way of condoning murder.
Dropping the half burnt cigarette once again, I crushed it with heel of my shoe until I was sure it was completely put out. Ruthy stomped at hers and Mathew once again lowered his hat rubbing at the edge of the rim. I didn’t see him put it back on for the rest of the day.