she died because now I don’t have to go back to see her again. I know I should be sad and maybe cry, but that’s not how I feel. Actually, I don’t know how I feel, or if I feel anything at all at the moment. Maybe it’s too soon and I’ll feel something later, maybe I’m in shock, having gotten the news so suddenly, right after waking up.
Bueli is outside the door, listening to our conversation, and I hug her around the waist and she buries her face on top of my head and starts to cry. I’m sure she’s cried a lot already, and I feel her tears running down my hair, and we stay like that for a long time, until Grandpa pulls us apart, enough already, he says, and Bueli looks at me with bloodshot eyes and shakes her head, and I still don’t feel like crying, I can’t force it, can I? Grandpa says the funeral will probably be tomorrow, and he kind of raises his eyebrows like saying, you don’t have to go, and I know he thinks I shouldn’t, he’s sorry I went to the hospital yesterday and he doesn’t want to put me through anything like that again, but maybe Bueli will want me to be with her, so I’m not sure what to do. They’ll leave it up to me, I know, and it’s going to be a tough decision, but I don’t have to make it now, I can wait until tomorrow morning and see how I feel about it.
Grandpa and Bueli go to keep Aunt Rebecca company, and I stay in the apartment with Nana Eudocia and I read for a while. Anne Frank and her family and all the others are still hiding in the secret annex, and at times I feel like I’m Anne Frank, living in the annex and going through what she’s going through, relating like she relates to all the people she’s stuck with. Then I watch TV, but it’s turning out to be a long and dreary day. I wish Diego would pick me up to take me someplace, if only so I can look at him some more, but maybe it’s supposed to be a long and dreary day, with what happened and all. In the afternoon images of Miriam begin to spin around in my head. I see her huge eyes staring at me, I feel her bone-dry, scaly hand in my hand, I smell the room’s smell. I try to read some more, I go out to the balcony to look at the people and traffic go by even though it’s chilly and breezy outside, I tell myself stories, I’m good at that, and I still can’t get rid of the images. They go away for a while but then they come roaring back, and they’re so close and real I can almost touch them. I see Miriam inside the casket, where she must be by now, and her eyes are open. Don’t they close dead people’s eyes before putting them in the casket? A shudder goes through me. If Miriam’s images don’t go away I won’t be able to sleep a wink tonight.
Grandpa and Bueli get home just before dinner, and Bueli looks the same, sad and kind of bent, like she’s carrying a huge load on her shoulders, but she’s not crying anymore, she just sighs all the time, and she’s very quiet during dinner. Grandpa tries to make conversation with me, doing his best to sound upbeat, and I do my best to answer the same way, but the whole thing feels forced, I’m sure to him too, so after a while we just keep quiet, and the only sound we hear are Bueli’s sighs marking the time like clockwork. After dinner we sit in the living room but we don’t turn on the TV, Bueli feels we shouldn’t under the circumstances, so we sit there like mummies, with nothing to do, and I suddenly realize Miriam’s images have gone away, they’ve stopped spinning in my head, and I’m happy about it because maybe I’ll be able to sleep okay, and I also realize I’m exhausted, as if my day had been full of programs and activities when the fact is I didn’t leave the apartment all day, so I excuse myself and go to bed.
I fall asleep right away, I think, because I don’t remember anything after turning off the light, but I wake up in the middle of the night. Miriam’s images are back, spinning like crazy in my head, and I realize they’ve been there for a while and I’ve been tossing and turning nonstop and I’m drenched in sweat. I get up and go to the bathroom without turning on the light so I don’t wake up anybody, I can hear snoring in Grandpa and Bueli’s bedroom. When I come out I’m scared to go back to bed because I know the images won’t go away, so I stand in the hallway not knowing what to do. I think of going to the living room and putting on the TV softly to see if watching a boring program takes my mind off them, but then I hear Bueli talking to me, is everything alright? she whispers, and I whisper back, yes, I just went to the bathroom, but I guess she senses things are not really alright, maybe my voice sounds a little shaky, because she gets up and leads me back to bed and says she’ll keep me company for a while, and I get under the covers and she sits next to me, keeping a tight grip on my hand, and she hums a tune very softly. I’ve never heard her hum or sing before, it’s a quiet, simple tune, and she says it’s the tune her mother used to hum to her whenever she couldn’t sleep, and she caresses my head, smoothing my hair back again and again, humming the tune as she does, and I feel myself falling asleep and I don’t fight it, it’s so nice and warm under the covers.
I wake up before eight the next morning even though I was awake part of the night, and when I open the shades I see it’s gray and foggy outside, which makes me feel kind of down, and I imagine going to the funeral will make me feel even more so. Grandpa is all dressed up, wearing a suit and tie, and Bueli is still in the bathroom getting ready, and Grandpa says they want to leave early to keep Aunt Rebecca company until the time of the funeral. If I want to go, he won’t stop me, he says, but he thinks I should stay home. They’ll be back in time for lunch, then in the afternoon we can all relax, and tomorrow I can start having my normal life, going out and having fun, which is what I came to Chile to do. He’s sorry I had to go through all this, he says, but it’s been only a few days since I arrived and there will be plenty of time to forget what happened and have a good time.
So I decide to stay home. Nana Eudocia brings me breakfast on a big tray she places on my lap, it’s so cool to get breakfast in bed, and she stays with me and tells me stories about the little town she grew up in, in the south of Chile, and about her brothers and sisters, she’s one of twelve children, and after breakfast I take a long, steaming-hot shower and wash my hair with lots of shampoo, and then I sit in the living room and read my book but not for too long. I’m coming to the end of it and I know Anne couldn’t finish her diary, she was taken to a concentration camp where she died, and I don’t feel like reading about it right now, with Miriam having just died and all, maybe I’ll be able to finish it a few days from now. I do feel a little guilty about not going to the funeral. Maybe Miriam would’ve been happy if I attended since I saw her on her last day alive, but who knows what happens after you die, if you can still see things and know what’s going on, if Miriam can now get into my head and read my thoughts. It’s kind of scary to think so, but it’s also okay because I’m not thinking bad thoughts, except one: now that Miriam died I can really have a good vacation, and I’m not even sure that counts as a bad thought. Actually, I’m really sorry she died, even if I didn’t go to her funeral. If she can read my thoughts she’ll forgive me for not going, I believe, and if she can’t and being dead is like really the end, like falling into a black hole, then it won’t matter much, will it?
Grandpa and Bueli come back, and Bueli looks worse than ever, as if the load on her shoulders has only gotten bigger and she’s crumbling under it. We have a quiet lunch and Bueli hardly touches the food. She doesn’t cry but she sighs a lot and keeps her eyes down, and Grandpa, to make conversation, I guess, or perhaps because he believes this is something we should talk about to get it off our chests, says everything went well at the funeral, lots and lots of people attended, and I’m glad we’re talking about it, I’m glad we don’t have to keep it hush, hush, and I ask a few questions, like, were there any speeches and how long did the whole thing take and how was Aunt Rebecca, and he answers the questions and I ask more questions. Bueli is quiet, though, she doesn’t say anything, she just keeps her eyes down, and after lunch she says she’s going to go to her bedroom and spend the rest of the day in bed. I look at Grandpa and he shrugs his shoulders and says, it’s okay, she’ll feel better tomorrow, you know how your Grandma is, so I walk around the apartment like a zombie, I don’t know what
to do with myself, I don’t feel like reading and I can’t watch TV. I could go out for a walk but maybe it’s not the right thing to do either, so finally I decide I might as well spend the time with Bueli, perhaps she’ll feel a little better if I do, perhaps it’ll take her mind off Miriam for a moment or two. I change into my pajamas and go into her bedroom and say, I’m keeping you company this afternoon, and I get in bed with her, and she seems surprised at first, but then a tiny, tiny smile shines in her eyes.
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About the Author
Born and raised in Santiago, Chile, Theodore Kohan undertook graduate studies in the United States. Following a brief residence back in Chile, he moved permanently to the United States, where he has lived most of his adult life. He and his wife currently reside in Sharon, Mass., and Boynton Beach, Fla.
Also from Theodore Kohan:
Summer Vacation and Other Stories, available in print at most online retailers.
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