Chapter 5

On Sunday morning NATO dropped some more bombs in Kosovo, the Sox had made the World Series again, and rumours were rife among us that two prominent Seniors were fooling around class 3D in Rosedale High at night making 'extra credit'. But all that didn't mattered much that Sunday morning when Alan�s funeral service was held at the local church.

I was surprised at the large turnout at Alan's service that chilly Sunday morning. Principal Skinner had sent out a letter to all the students' parents the week before to inform them of the tentative service to be held for Alan at St George Cathedral, Rosedale's only still-standing church since the last civil war. Though it was over 2 centuries old, it managed to fit the odd 900 people who came. Perhaps it was out of macabre curiosity to see the first student who had taken his life at school. If so, they would be disappointed since it was a closed casket affair: Alan's disfigurement and injuries was too much even for the town's veteran funeral parlour owner to prepare. Almost everyone I knew came, including that no-good Minos and his two brothers and parents. I spotted Miss Ponyatail sitting with the rest of the school faculty at the front. Akisha's family was sitting next to Penya's, the both of them sat together holding hands and sharing tissue paper.

After the usual exchange of prayers and speeches it was time to bury Alan six feet under the ground, or rather in the ground. Everyone followed the carrying of his casket to the nearby cemetery grounds. "Ashes to ashes, dust to dust," said Father Johnson, as they lowered Alan's casket into the already dug grave. When the pallbearers started to sift dirt onto the casket, the crowd slowly dispersed. Fran and Paul stayed back to chat with the other parents. I wandered off to a nearby grave that I had long neglected to visit.

Mother Abigail Virgil's simple grave remained tidy and kept, just the way she would have like it. She was a simple frugal woman with a big heart for us orphans. She had even insisted on her deathbed that night that the orphanage not spend extravagantly for her service. I remember that same chilly Sunday morning it was just a handful of us kids huddling together in the cold with the orphanage nuns and fathers reciting their prayers and blessings.

I remember that morning so clearly because Alan was the only one who didn't cry then during the service. Was he just putting on a brave face for the rest of us because he didn't wanted to be teased as a cry baby? I wasn't sure but he told me later when we were back in the boys dormitory that "Mother Virgil want us to be strong. She wouldn�t want us to be sad,"

We slept together in the same bed that night sharing baseball talk with a flashlight under the covers. I don't think the Sisters mind us doing that just for that one night.

I spent a few minutes brushing away dirt off Mother's marker when a shadow fell in front of it from behind; I needn't guess whose. Only she would have cared to visit Mother. I remained squatted with my back facing her, picking weeds obscuring the tombstone. I didn't stand up. Undaunted, she walked closer to my side. I noticed her wearing a conservative-looking black dress with a hat, her firey-red hair covered with a black veil. After all this years, she had not lost her sense of fashion while growing up as a girl.

She placed a tulip on the marker before me, kneeled beside me and clasped her hands together as she closed her eyes and murmured a silent prayer. After a few minutes of uncomfortable silence hanging in the air between us, Aki spoke.

"The service today went well," she said.

"Yeah,"

"...Alan would've liked it,"

"I suppose. Where's Penya?"

"She went back early after the service 'cos she had something to do,"

"I see..."

The adults were still busy entertaining themselves. Only Aki and I remained in front of Mother's lone grave marker.

"Mama would be sad today,"

"Why'd you say that?"

"She'd never have wanted Alan - or any of us - to take his life,"

We stayed quiet for awhile when she broke the silence again.

"...You think Alan's in Heaven now together with Mama?"

"I don't know. I don't think I believe in God anymore,"

"Really..."

She turned her face away from me and looked back at the funeral procession. There were less people now. Most of them were listening to the parson who was preaching about sin and humankind�s salvation while sipping their tea. Francie and Paul were still talking to Cain and Aria, Alan's parents. I didn't bother looking at them; they were the last people on my mind that morning.

"Aki,"

"Yes?"

"This is the last time we'll ever talk to each other, understand?"

"..."

"It's only because of today I talk to you. Any other day, I don't care, y'hear me?"

Aki remained quiet. Her eyes looked like she was about to cry, but I continued speaking to her.

"Also, we are at Mother's grave; it won't look good fighting in front of her. I may not believe in God anymore but I do believe in respecting the dead,"

"..."

"We clear?"

"...yeah,"

"Good. Bye,"

I joined Francie and Paul by their side. They were ready to go. So was I. I didn't bother look back at Aki who remained in front of Mother's grave, nor did I take the time to revisit the smaller one next to hers. I wasn't ready.

Was I acting like a prick? Perhaps. But I still couldn't forgive what she had done to me 8 years ago...





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