“Ike, that’s our boy in there. That’s our baby,” Mya wailed. He flinched when she spoke. It was like hearing a rabbit scream in a trap. Ike heard the folding chairs squeak and whine as people rose and headed to the parking lot. He felt hands flutter against his back and shoulders. Words of encouragement were mumbled with half-hearted sincerity. It wasn’t that folks didn’t care. It was that they knew those words did little to soothe the wound in his soul. Speaking those platitudes and clichéd homilies seemed disingenuous, but what else could they do? It was what you did when someone died. It was as axiomatic as bringing a casserole to the repast.
The crowd was thin, and it didn’t take long for the chairs to empty. In less than five minutes the only people in the cemetery were Ike, Mya, Arianna, the gravediggers, and a man Ike vaguely recognized as Derek’s father. A lot of Ike’s family hadn’t shown up for the service. As far as he could tell, only a few of Derek’s people had bothered to attend. Most of the mourners were Isiah and Derek’s friends. Ike noticed Derek’s family members. They stood out among the bearded hipsters and androgynous ladies that made up Derek and Isiah’s social circle. Lean wiry men and women with hard flinty eyes and sun-worn faces. They wore blue collars around their red necks. As the sermon neared the thirty-minute mark, he’d watched their faces begin to bloom with crimson. That was when the minister mentioned how no sin was unforgivable. Even abominable sins could be forgiven by a benevolent God.
Arianna pulled one of Mya’s braids.
“Stop it, girl!” Mya said. It came out sharp. Arianna was silent for a moment. Ike knew what was coming next. That pregnant pause was the prelude to the waterworks. Isiah used to do the same thing.
Arianna began to howl. Her screams pierced the quiet contemplativeness of the funeral and rang in Ike’s ears. Mya tried to soothe her. She apologized and brushed her forehead. Arianna took a deep breath, then began to scream louder.
“Take her to the car. I’ll be there in a minute,” Ike said.
“Ike, I ain’t going nowhere. Not yet,” Mya snapped. Ike stood.
“Please Mya. Take her to the car. Just give me a few minutes, then I’ll come and watch her and you can come back,” Ike said. His voice almost cracked. Mya stood. She pulled Arianna close to her chest.
“You say what you gotta say.” She turned and headed for the car. Arianna’s cries withered to whimpers as they walked away. Ike put his hand on the black casket with the gold trim. His boy was in there. His son was in this rectangular container. Packed and preserved like some cured meat. The breeze picked up, making the tassels hanging from the edge of the tent flap like the wings of a dying bird. Derek was in the silver casket with the black trim. Isiah was being buried next to his husband. They’d died together and now they’d rest together.
Derek’s father rose from his seat. He was a lean and weathered piece of work with a shock of shoulder-length salt-and-pepper hair. He walked up to the foot of the caskets and stood next to Ike. The gravediggers busied themselves with shovel inspections as they waited for these two men, the last of the mourners, to leave. The lean man scratched at his chin. A gray shadow of a beard covered the bottom half of his face. He coughed, cleared his throat, then coughed again. When he got that under control, he turned toward Ike.
“Buddy Lee Jenkins. Derek’s father. I don’t think we ever officially met,” Buddy Lee said. He held out his hand.
“Ike Randolph.” He took Buddy Lee’s hand and pumped it up and down twice, then let it go. They stood at the foot of the coffins, silent as stones. Buddy Lee coughed again.
“Was you at the wedding reception?” Buddy Lee asked. Ike shook his head.
“Me neither,” Buddy Lee said.
“I think I saw you at their girl’s birthday party last year,” Ike said.
“Yeah, I was there but I didn’t stay long.” Buddy Lee sucked his teeth as he adjusted his sport coat. “Derek was ashamed of me. Can’t say I much blame him,” Buddy Lee said. Ike didn’t know how to respond, so he didn’t.
“I just wanna thank you and your wife for getting everything straight. I couldn’t afford to put them away this nice. And Derek’s mama couldn’t be bothered,” Buddy Lee said.
“Wasn’t us. They had things already taken care of. They’d set up some kind of prepaid funeral package. We just had to sign some papers,” Ike said.
“Man. Was you setting up funeral arrangements at twenty-seven? I know I sure wasn’t. Hell, I couldn’t set up a fucking paper route at twenty-seven,” Buddy Lee said. Ike ran his hand over his son’s casket. Whatever moment he had imagined having was ruined now.