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Authors: Karin Fossum
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"but they prove nothing."
"So you think that beauty is completely random?" Reilly said. "People who require proof of everything are impoverished," he carried on. "They're afraid to surrender to something. They're scared to lose control."
"You're a dreamer," Axel said. "You'll never make anything of yourself."
"You mean I'll never earn what you earn?"
"Correct," Axel said.
"I was right," Reilly replied. "You're dirt poor."
Again he stared out of the window at all the lost people.
"Do you think his dad will be there?" he said.
"Tony Moreno, you mean?"
"Yes."
"No idea. They never had any contact. Perhaps he's got a new family. Perhaps Jon has a pile of siblings he never got to meet, a bunch of mini-Morenos running around in Naples."
"What do you intend to say in the church?" Reilly asked.
"Just the usual," Axel said. "The stuff people want to hear."
A dark, slender man sat in the front pew close to the wall, and though he was small, his white linen suit made him stand out. It was Tony Moreno, who had come all the way from Naples. He was huddled up on the pew as though he did not want to be seen, as though he did not want people to remember that he had left when Jon was little. The vicar had done his bit. He moved
aside when Axel stepped up in his well-cut suit. In his hand he held a sheet of paper which quivered, but his voice was clear and sincere when he spoke.
"Jon," he said. "You were a unique person."
A sigh rippled through the congregation. His voice carried beautifully through the church and he looked very handsome in his gray suit. He stood close to the coffin. It was made from mahogany, and an abundance of flowers covered the dark wood. He was obviously deeply moved. The fact that he had lied about some important details surrounding Jon's death did not strip him of the right to mourn, he believed, and it was good to feel a little sentimental.
"You were intelligent, humble and compassionate," he carried on. "And you had a strong conscience which reacted to the slightest thing. You were a better person than us. You cared about the weak, you felt the injustice of the world, and sometimes you allowed it to torment you. You were in the eye of the storm your whole life."
At this point Axel looked up at the mourners and he saw that they were mesmerized. He could also see what they were thinking. That this Frimann, this friend of Jon's, was indeed a good-looking man, well-dressed, articulate, sincere. He granted Ingerid Moreno, who was sitting in the front pew, a sympathetic smile.
"You asked much of yourself and others," he said. "You were a good friend. You were honest, patient and extremely sensitive. Your sensitivity made it difficult for you to enjoy both the big and the little things in life. Eventually it got too much for you. While we were sleeping, you were swept away by your own black thoughts. We don't understand and we're completely at a loss. What was it we failed to see? What was it we did not understand?"
Axel turned to the coffin and bowed respectfully.
"As long as there is breath in us, we will remember the good times," he said. "Jon Moreno. We thank you."
They carried Jon to his grave to the tune of Madrugada's "Highway of Light." Axel and Reilly walked at the front; behind them were Jon's cousin and the diminutive Tony Moreno in his white suit. At the back were two colleagues from Siba Computers. The six men struggled to find their rhythm, but after a clumsy start they managed to carry their burden with the speed and dignity that suited someone's final journey.
They came out into the blinding light. Reilly tried to adapt his pace. From time to time he would peek at Axel who was walking steadily on the left. Far away someone slammed a car door. They continued their slow progress. Reilly shifted his gaze from the vicar's cassock, which undulated in front of him, and he recognized Molly Gram. She was wearing a green dress and with her white hair she reminded him of a dandelion in
"So you think that beauty is completely random?" Reilly said. "People who require proof of everything are impoverished," he carried on. "They're afraid to surrender to something. They're scared to lose control."
"You're a dreamer," Axel said. "You'll never make anything of yourself."
"You mean I'll never earn what you earn?"
"Correct," Axel said.
"I was right," Reilly replied. "You're dirt poor."
Again he stared out of the window at all the lost people.
"Do you think his dad will be there?" he said.
"Tony Moreno, you mean?"
"Yes."
"No idea. They never had any contact. Perhaps he's got a new family. Perhaps Jon has a pile of siblings he never got to meet, a bunch of mini-Morenos running around in Naples."
"What do you intend to say in the church?" Reilly asked.
"Just the usual," Axel said. "The stuff people want to hear."
A dark, slender man sat in the front pew close to the wall, and though he was small, his white linen suit made him stand out. It was Tony Moreno, who had come all the way from Naples. He was huddled up on the pew as though he did not want to be seen, as though he did not want people to remember that he had left when Jon was little. The vicar had done his bit. He moved
aside when Axel stepped up in his well-cut suit. In his hand he held a sheet of paper which quivered, but his voice was clear and sincere when he spoke.
"Jon," he said. "You were a unique person."
A sigh rippled through the congregation. His voice carried beautifully through the church and he looked very handsome in his gray suit. He stood close to the coffin. It was made from mahogany, and an abundance of flowers covered the dark wood. He was obviously deeply moved. The fact that he had lied about some important details surrounding Jon's death did not strip him of the right to mourn, he believed, and it was good to feel a little sentimental.
"You were intelligent, humble and compassionate," he carried on. "And you had a strong conscience which reacted to the slightest thing. You were a better person than us. You cared about the weak, you felt the injustice of the world, and sometimes you allowed it to torment you. You were in the eye of the storm your whole life."
At this point Axel looked up at the mourners and he saw that they were mesmerized. He could also see what they were thinking. That this Frimann, this friend of Jon's, was indeed a good-looking man, well-dressed, articulate, sincere. He granted Ingerid Moreno, who was sitting in the front pew, a sympathetic smile.
"You asked much of yourself and others," he said. "You were a good friend. You were honest, patient and extremely sensitive. Your sensitivity made it difficult for you to enjoy both the big and the little things in life. Eventually it got too much for you. While we were sleeping, you were swept away by your own black thoughts. We don't understand and we're completely at a loss. What was it we failed to see? What was it we did not understand?"
Axel turned to the coffin and bowed respectfully.
"As long as there is breath in us, we will remember the good times," he said. "Jon Moreno. We thank you."
They carried Jon to his grave to the tune of Madrugada's "Highway of Light." Axel and Reilly walked at the front; behind them were Jon's cousin and the diminutive Tony Moreno in his white suit. At the back were two colleagues from Siba Computers. The six men struggled to find their rhythm, but after a clumsy start they managed to carry their burden with the speed and dignity that suited someone's final journey.
They came out into the blinding light. Reilly tried to adapt his pace. From time to time he would peek at Axel who was walking steadily on the left. Far away someone slammed a car door. They continued their slow progress. Reilly shifted his gaze from the vicar's cassock, which undulated in front of him, and he recognized Molly Gram. She was wearing a green dress and with her white hair she reminded him of a dandelion in
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