Beyond Blonde (6 page)

It was a beautiful sermon, someone snuck carnations onto the coffin,
and
Luke Pearson had come! Luke in a church! Talk about your sign from God!

About four pews’
worth of mourners exited the church and regrouped at the Mount Pleasant Cemetery with decorum and dignity. We weren’t one of them.

Mike and Uncle Dragan were weaving by the time we got out of the limo again, and Papa looked like he needed a drink. Auntie Eva artfully kept up the waterworks throughout the interment and the prayers, joined for brief sobbing serenades by Aunties Luba and Radmila and even Mama. I was sure Auntie Eva was going to pitch herself on top of the coffin when we got to the “ashes to ashes” part.

I nudged Auntie Luba. “Is she okay? Maybe we should—”

“Shhht.” Auntie Luba put a finger to her mouth. “Za more she cries, za less she is going to have to pee.”

“Uh … pardon?”

“Ya,” she snorted. “She’s got on a girdle zat takes two peoples to get her into. Let her cry.”

Mama leaned over. “She’s right. Eva looks fantastik, but it’s very impossible to get zat girdle off.”

“It’s too tight,” sniffed Auntie Radmila. “Zat’s vhy she is crying so much.”

I’m ashamed to say I hardly thought about poor old Luigi. Yet another tick in the “why I’m not nice” column, especially when I so wanted to be “nice.” It’s like a long-standing goal and everything. I
wanted
to feel awful about him dying, but I didn’t. Even worse, they’d just been together for a few months, so I had a limited bank of “treasured” memories to call up to make me feel teary when everyone was looking. I mean, I knew he adored Auntie Eva, but there was a shockingly long lineup of men who did, including all her ex-husbands. To complicate matters further, Luigi’s dying gave Papa his first real job in decades. It all got kind of sticky if I thought about it too much.

So I stopped thinking about it.

Therefore, when I wasn’t interrupted by Auntie Eva’s gut-cleansing sobs, my thoughts were free to go straight to Luke. I thought intelligent, deep thoughts like: Was that really Luke? Maybe it wasn’t. But then again, I had that whole electric thing. It sure looked like Luke. But then again, it was just his silhouette. It probably wasn’t him. But then again, I bet it was. I was making myself carsick.

Then we went back to the car.

The mourners all came to Auntie Eva’s too. Father Gregory made it sound like it was pretty well mandatory. Auntie Eva stopped sobbing the moment she got into the limo and did not cry again. In fact, most of the trip home was devoted to
makeup repair. Mike had taken care of the catering, but not from his restaurant, mind you. We all agreed that burgers and fries didn’t hit the right note. He arranged for lasagne and veal Parmesan, Luigi’s favourite meal, because, of course, it would make Luigi happy.

To make the rest of us happy, Mike got his two studly nephews, whom we’d met at his wedding, to help serve, get drinks, and flirt with my friends. “Oooo,” said Sarah as soon as she spotted Mike Jr. and George in their waiter outfits.

“Down, girl.” Kit yanked her back. “Let’s remember those boys are in their twenties and you took an abstinence pledge, right?” Sarah groaned by way of an answer. Mike Jr. was stationed at Auntie Eva’s dining room table handing out plates and urging people to load up, while George cajoled people into ordering drinks. Or maybe it was the other way around. I could never remember which one was which.

Papa was in the kitchen whipping up his new favourite thing in the world, milkshakes. What Papa gave up in alcohol, he replaced by mainlining chocolate malteds. Mama kept giving him her best subliminal smile, but it didn’t look like they were getting much of a chance to talk and catch up.

Auntie Eva made her way straight to the big red-velvet wing chair in the living room. This is where she would
receive.
“Buboola,” she said, her arm outstretched to me, “come.” It was a little awkward. Auntie Eva sat in the chair, of course, but she also insisted that I sit. So, I perched precariously on the arm of the chair, trying to look graceful, secure, and suitably stricken as people made their way over, one by one.

“Straighten up,” she whispered. “Nobody can see your breasts ven you are hunching over like zat.”

I straightened up.

Mario and Maria made their way over with drinks in hand. They expressed their deep Italian gratitude that Auntie Eva had organized such a lovely send-off for their cousin.

“Pshaw.” Auntie Eva waved her hanky at them. “Vat are you talking. I ashamed of zis poultry effort!”

They looked alarmed.

“Paltry,” I whispered.

“Zat is vat I said,” she said without breaking eye contact with them. This is where the cousins were supposed to insist that they had never seen a finer or more impressive funeral in their lives. Instead they shook her hand and drifted to the food table.

“Peasants,” muttered Auntie Eva before she was assaulted by the Blondes. Kit, Sarah, and Madison all threw themselves at her. “It was brilliant!” said Sarah.

“
You
look brilliant!” said Kit.

“It’s all too tragic for words,” sighed Madison.

“Absolutely!” they all said. “You poor, poor thing.” More hugging. Hankies were prominently waved about. Then they hugged her again.

You can’t teach this stuff. You either pick it up or you don’t. I had never been prouder of them.

“He’s right behind us,” Madison whispered, while giving me a condolence hug.

“Huh? Who?” I said.

“Just look sexy!”

“Breasts, breasts!” hissed Auntie Eva.

I inhaled, thrust out my chest, and tried to cross my legs artfully like they show you in
Cosmopolitan
magazine. Right over left, but high so your flabby fat thigh isn’t pressed against anything and your legs are super e-l-o-n-g-a-t-e-d. It was not a move designed for the sculpted arm of a velvet wing chair. My butt rolled right off the edge. Just before I hit the floor, I was scooped up by one arm. Wow. I looked up.

Damn.

Double damn.

It was David.

“My goodness pieces!” Auntie Eva fanned herself with her hanky. “So strong vit za muscles and so very beautiful too. Sophie, my little carnation, who loves carnations ve don’t know vhy, my Sophie tenks you very much for saving her from za floor.” She elbowed me.

I elbowed her back. Actually, I wanted to kill her, but I settled for duelling elbows. “Uh, yeah.” Okay, this was awkward. I could tell she’d decided to love David unconditionally. I knew all the signs. “Auntie Eva, you remember David Walter?” I psychically drilled into her brain that he hated my guts for some unjustifiable reason and therefore she must give him the coldest of cold shoulders, freeze him out, and cut him down.

“Velcome, velcome! Za boy vit za two first names!” She took his hand and put hers on top of his. “I remember you, of course, except you are even more fantastik zan my remembering! A movie star, eh, Sophie?”

“Yeah, movie star.”

Two bright red patches splashed David’s cheeks. The unflappable David Walter looked flapped. What the hell was he doing here anyway? Did he come on a bet? Guys do stuff like that.

“I was at the practice when …”

“Oh you are za coach!
Da,
Magda told it to me. How fantastik for Sophie and your team too, of course. Ve are all vaiting vit bated breasts.”

Dear Lord. My face felt like I was standing in front of a furnace. Move over, Luigi. I’ll be there in a minute.

David, thank God, looked lost. And because I simply could not stop myself, I said, “Bated
breath
.”

She patted his hand and through a clenched smile said, “Zat is vat I said.”

“Well, I’m very sorry for your loss, ma’am.” He turned to me. All six-foot-four inches of him looked seismically uncomfortable. “And for you, Sophie, for the loss of your, uh, um, well … uncle?”

“Uncle will do,” I said to put him out of his misery, which I thought was very
nice
of me.

“Okay, well, my condolences to you both then.” He backed away like his butt was on fire. Seriously,
what
did I ever do to him?

“Za boy is completely koo-koo for you!” said Auntie Eva before she was smothered by a Hungarian couple.

“Yeah,” I said, “that’s pretty obvious.”

Auntie Eva greeted every guest like they had scaled Mount Everest to reach her with their condolences. The food kept coming and the drinks didn’t stop flowing. The Blondes were
singing and swaying to Auntie Eva’s collection of Dean Martin records because it
would’ve made Luigi happy.
Papa was on his fourth milkshake and even convinced the Judge, Madison’s grandfather, to have one before he left. Although the Judge was responsible for getting Papa exonerated and freed from prison, he also had a bit of a crush on Mama stemming back from the days when he thought she was a widow. But there they were, in the Auntie universe, side by each, sipping their chocolate malteds.

I eventually left with Madison and her grandfather. Sarah and Kit stayed behind. Sarah to keep flirting with George and Kit to keep an eye on Sarah’s flirting.

“Your mother looked lovely, as always,” the Judge said as we got into his Mercedes.

Eeew … what are you supposed to say to that? Adults are so weird. I wanted to say, “Back off, mister. They’re separated,
not
divorced. My mother is still in love with the guy you were sipping shakes with!”

Instead, I said, “Yes, sir.”

Madison, who was in the back with me, squeezed my hand. “Do you want me to come up with you?” she whispered. “I don’t think you should be alone.”

What the hell? “No, I’m cool, thanks though.” Madison knew I wasn’t all torn up about poor Luigi. “I’m going to do the laundry, to tell you the truth. With all of this drama, I won’t have anything to wear to school next week unless I start now.”

She leaned in close. “I saw him too.”

We didn’t say anything from Davenport Road to Mount Pleasant Road. We’d been through too much together. I didn’t
insult her by asking who. Papa always said to never kid a kidder, and Madison was among the best. “It’s okay.” I kept her gaze. “I’ll be okay.”

She nodded reluctantly, not quite believing. That’s the other thing about us, all of us: although we trust each other, we don’t always
believe
each other.

“I really do have a big pile and I like being in the laundry room by myself with the chugging of the machines. It helps me think, calms me down, you know?”

Madison had no idea what a washing machine looked like, let alone sounded like, but she nodded again anyway. “Okay, but call me if you need me, if you want to talk.”

As soon as I got in I threw all my clothes into the laundry hamper, and, in an act of unspeakable generosity, I threw in Mama’s too.

The laundry room was relentlessly cheerful, covered in blindingly white subway tiles and decorated with five massive white washing machines and five equally massive and gleaming white dryers. The magic chugging of the machines wasn’t working though. Not this time. I still felt agitated and antsy.

David turning up was bad enough, but Luke? I was blindsided by Luke. Why did Luke come to the church? I paced a zigzag route in between the washers and dryers. That didn’t do it either. We were all by ourselves, the machines and me. “I need some answers here. Help!” I begged the laundry room.

And the laundry room answered.

After throwing the first load into the dryer, I wandered over to the laundry room’s famous collection of used books
and magazines. It was a stellar, if wonky, stash. My hand went straight to the biggest book, the one with the shiny black cover under the
True Confessions
and dated
Cosmopolitan
s.

Chugga shoosh, chugga shoosh, chugga—

Oh my God! I clutched the book to my chest. In a day bursting with signs, here was another one, straight from God to me. How could it not be? I was holding something called
The Concise Encyclopaedia of Living Faiths
! Here was my
something,
somewhere in this book of religions. Last year when I was walking into walls all confused about sex and how to be a
woman,
I got all my questions answered in a book Auntie Eva brought over called
Sweet Savage Love
by Rosemary Rogers. It was my bible on love. Now, I needed a new bible, maybe a Bible bible to get me through the bad bits. Clearly, God needed me to choose a religion and then He would make everything better. My life would be a daily dose of miracles. All I had to do was pick one! How clear was that? How brilliant was that? Hell, I bet they make a movie about this moment one day.