cats and her work was actually quite good. Beverly had said she had left me a painting and I wondered which one it would be.
Beverly was already there, wearing a flowered dress and Mary Janes. She came over to me and gave me a warm hug. I had literally not given her a single thought over the years and there she was.
âSo sadâ is what she said and I nodded my head in agreement.
I said hello to other people from the office; two building managers, men in suits whose names I could not remember, the Englishwoman who took the calls at the customer servicedesk, her name was Hailey, and Ruby, the receptionist at the front desk who had never liked me. There was a cluster of older women who I guessed were from Judyâs painting class. There was a guy in his fifties wearing a leather jacket and wire-rimmed glasses. He had a goatee. Maybe a boyfriend. Occasionally Judy had them. He also could have been another painter.
I felt like I did not belong there.
I wobbled in my shoes.
âHow does this work?â I whispered to Diego, who, for reasons I did not understand but was grateful for, stayed close to me.
âI hate funerals,â he said.
I nodded, because this made sense to me. I had only been to two. There had been Hansâs grandmother, an affair that had been completely without meaning. Afterward we had gone to a traditional restaurant where I ate spaetzle and drank too much beer. I also had an aunt who died of leukemia when I was thirteen, and that funeral was completely surreal. Her boyfriend at the time was an epileptic alcoholic from Copenhagen and at one point during the reception, he went off to throw up in the bushes. I could not bear to look at my cousins, because it seemed too awful, losing their mother, and I had never gotten along with them. They had grown up in the country and did not do well in school.
It occurred to me again that I had so little experience with death. Thinking that was a horrible thought, a little bit like Jinx, because now that I had thought it, perhaps I had willed someone I knew to die. My mother, my father. Diego. I took Diegoâs hand. I wondered if we would have sex.
âYou might,â I heard Judy say, but Judy was dead.
It was weird how she had started talking to me. Unnerving. Where had she been, all these years? Why had she allowed me to drift away? We were at her funeral and I was married and Diego did not want to have sex with me. He had made that clear a long time ago. I was not allowed to have thoughts about having sex with Diego. I was married. I had been choked by my husband. Did that change the rules? I wondered what Judy thought about that. Nothing. She thought nothing about that. But I was at her funeral and perhaps I was not supposed to be thinking critical thoughts.
Beverly stood up at the front of the barn and the room quieted. âWe are here to say good-bye to our dear friend Judy,â she began.
I was crying. It was ridiculous. It was embarrassing. I hoped that Judy would not be mad at me.
I FOUND MYSELF THINKING ABOUT DOLPHINS during the service. How beautiful they were. Sometimes, on the weekends when I was in graduate school in Louisiana, I would drive my car to Biloxi, Mississippi, where I would take a boat to Ship Island. It was a short ferry ride, which I loved. You almost always saw dolphins in the water, swimming alongside the ship. There were dolphins in the water in the Gulf of Mexico. I had not known that before I went to school there.
I would go to Ship Island by myself and I would swim. Even from the beach, you could see dolphins, leaping from the water and their gentle return back into the sea. It was a magical place.
I remembered writing Judy an email about Ship Island, about going there by myself, the sun on my face, the dolphins. How I loved it there.
The crazy thing about Ship Island was that it no longer existed, not the way that I remembered it. There were a series of hurricanes and, at least for a short period
Beverly was already there, wearing a flowered dress and Mary Janes. She came over to me and gave me a warm hug. I had literally not given her a single thought over the years and there she was.
âSo sadâ is what she said and I nodded my head in agreement.
I said hello to other people from the office; two building managers, men in suits whose names I could not remember, the Englishwoman who took the calls at the customer servicedesk, her name was Hailey, and Ruby, the receptionist at the front desk who had never liked me. There was a cluster of older women who I guessed were from Judyâs painting class. There was a guy in his fifties wearing a leather jacket and wire-rimmed glasses. He had a goatee. Maybe a boyfriend. Occasionally Judy had them. He also could have been another painter.
I felt like I did not belong there.
I wobbled in my shoes.
âHow does this work?â I whispered to Diego, who, for reasons I did not understand but was grateful for, stayed close to me.
âI hate funerals,â he said.
I nodded, because this made sense to me. I had only been to two. There had been Hansâs grandmother, an affair that had been completely without meaning. Afterward we had gone to a traditional restaurant where I ate spaetzle and drank too much beer. I also had an aunt who died of leukemia when I was thirteen, and that funeral was completely surreal. Her boyfriend at the time was an epileptic alcoholic from Copenhagen and at one point during the reception, he went off to throw up in the bushes. I could not bear to look at my cousins, because it seemed too awful, losing their mother, and I had never gotten along with them. They had grown up in the country and did not do well in school.
It occurred to me again that I had so little experience with death. Thinking that was a horrible thought, a little bit like Jinx, because now that I had thought it, perhaps I had willed someone I knew to die. My mother, my father. Diego. I took Diegoâs hand. I wondered if we would have sex.
âYou might,â I heard Judy say, but Judy was dead.
It was weird how she had started talking to me. Unnerving. Where had she been, all these years? Why had she allowed me to drift away? We were at her funeral and I was married and Diego did not want to have sex with me. He had made that clear a long time ago. I was not allowed to have thoughts about having sex with Diego. I was married. I had been choked by my husband. Did that change the rules? I wondered what Judy thought about that. Nothing. She thought nothing about that. But I was at her funeral and perhaps I was not supposed to be thinking critical thoughts.
Beverly stood up at the front of the barn and the room quieted. âWe are here to say good-bye to our dear friend Judy,â she began.
I was crying. It was ridiculous. It was embarrassing. I hoped that Judy would not be mad at me.
I FOUND MYSELF THINKING ABOUT DOLPHINS during the service. How beautiful they were. Sometimes, on the weekends when I was in graduate school in Louisiana, I would drive my car to Biloxi, Mississippi, where I would take a boat to Ship Island. It was a short ferry ride, which I loved. You almost always saw dolphins in the water, swimming alongside the ship. There were dolphins in the water in the Gulf of Mexico. I had not known that before I went to school there.
I would go to Ship Island by myself and I would swim. Even from the beach, you could see dolphins, leaping from the water and their gentle return back into the sea. It was a magical place.
I remembered writing Judy an email about Ship Island, about going there by myself, the sun on my face, the dolphins. How I loved it there.
The crazy thing about Ship Island was that it no longer existed, not the way that I remembered it. There were a series of hurricanes and, at least for a short period
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