Two Moments
The rain kept falling in droves, the incessant pittering of droplets landing on the windowsill, the turbulent stream of water down the pane. John sat alone in the room, eyes forward, staring at the strips of amber light flowing across the wall as cars swept by on the street outside. Smoke puffed out of his nostrils; a cigarette perched in his fingers.
Light tapping echoed from the hall under the shut door, bouncing off the picture frames packed into the bookshelf strew with worn paperbacks stuffed in, muffled by the piles of clothes scattered around near the bed.
“Dad?” a voice crept in through the door.
Shuttering a swallow, his dry throat ached to respond.
“Dad, can we go see Mom?”
***
“It is with great sadness that we mourn the passing of Mary, a beloved wife and mother, a friend to many. She is survived by her husband John and son Nathan,” the priest said from the alter. His robes dragged on the ground as he walked to the coffin and said a silent prayer.
John reached out a hand, grabbing Nathan’s. A tear built up in the corner of his eye, his will forcing it stay put, forcing his face to present strong. Nathan wiped his eyes and kept staring at the coffin, his mother, resting in the front of the room.
An organ crooned a requiem, filling the vaulted ceiling with the intensity of mourning John couldn’t find a way to feel. His grip tightened on Nathan’s hand, an attempt to hold himself.
Holding the coffin, John’s strength emptied to keep his Mary upright, his eyes dampened, a trickle leaked out down his cheek. His brother as well as her father and brother walked on in step. His sister-in-law walking carefully behind, holding Nathan’s hand.
***
Chattering rose up from friends and family in the reception hall. Pictures of a young woman were propped up among flowers on tables around the room.
Nathan walked over to John, standing in the corner talking to an old friend.
“Dad,” he said, looking up with red eyes, his words lost.
John looked down, reaching out to pull his son close.
“I love you, Nate. I’ll always be here for you,” He let out, holding the boy tightly.
Dimness fell in through the windows from the gray sky above, the breeze wafted under the pane propped up by old books. Nathan stood alone, eyes fixed on figures in picture frames; their smiles frozen in time, a woman standing next to a man, a child sitting on his shoulders. He took a drag of a cigarette, the smoke seeping out of his mouth.
Picking up the frame, turning it over in his hand, he looked closer at the man, his reflection. It fell into place amongst the other things packed into a cardboard box resting on the tightly made bed. Lugging the CPAP machine precariously on top, he picked the box up and made his way into the hall.
“First group will be coming through in two hours, so I’ll tidy up and put some demo pictures around,” a realtor said, turning to look at him.
***
“It is with great sadness that we mourn the passing of John, a beloved husband and father, a friend to many. He is survived by his son, Nathan,” a priest stated into the cold air sitting stagnant in the colossal room.
Nathan looked down - his hands folded, his eyes staring at the weathered wood where saints would kneel.
A cough echoed off the ceiling, a few scant sniffles from the sparse congregants sitting apart in the pews.
Nathan closed his dry eyes almost reverently. The priest continued on in long words decrying fear and promising hope. Hail Mary’s were said, a clattering of whispers joined. Nathan turned his head back up, crossing himself.
Walking slowly out, shouldering his father, Nathan stepped carefully. Three deacons walked on in step.
***
Chattering rose up from strangers in the dusky bar. Smoke wafted up into the low rafters around the room. The smell of whiskey permeated the air.
Nathan sat at the bar, a tumbler in his hand.
