Alice Bliss - Laura Harrington [100]
Even the music, which might normally be a weep fest, is so baggy and saggy, Alice wonders if there’s something wrong with the organ or maybe it’s the four-foot tall crone of an old woman who is playing it. Maybe she can’t reach the pedals. That would explain a lot. Henry must be grinding his teeth.
There’s a big holdup on the church steps with people wanting to stop and talk. Come on, already. Chat, chat, chat, sorry, sorry, sorry, over and over; it is driving Alice crazy. Perfect strangers some of them, wanting hugs, wanting to be comforted themselves. You just want to give some of these people a good shove.
Then there’s the hustle and bustle in the parking lot with the hearse and the cars and who goes where. The family is alone in Uncle Eddie’s latest Mercedes. A little respite. Lillian, who has been basically joined at the hip with Angie since she arrived last night, is riding in the car with Johnny Mason and his family. The Birds and the Blisses are directly behind the hearse with Lillian and company directly behind them.
In the pause before they pull out, Eddie passes his flask around. When Alice reaches for it, Angie just rolls her eyes and takes it away.
They take the scenic route to Locust Lawn, avoiding the highway and winding along Plank Road and then out on Blossom. It’s a beautiful day, which is what everyone keeps saying in order to have something to say. But it’s true. It’s a perfect spring day, a perfect baseball day, a perfect garden day. Uncle Eddie rolls the windows down even though Angie and Gram complain about their hair. They’re only going a stately fifteen miles per hour, how wrecked can your hair get? And Eddie is right to roll the windows down; the air is soft and sweet and it buoys them all, at least for a moment.
“Would you look at that?” Uncle Eddie says.
Dozens of cars line their route all the way to the cemetery, pulled over on the side of the road, their hazard lights flashing. Some people stand by their cars, their hands on their hearts; others sit quietly, their heads bowed.
On the last hill up to the cemetery, two Boy Scout troops stand at attention, holding flags.
The honor guard is already in place when they arrive. They have arranged Matt’s helmet, rifle, boots, and dog tags next to the grave.
Allison Mahoney and her father and both brothers are everywhere at once, escorting old people from their cars, seating people, signaling the priest to begin. These people should plan weddings or maybe warfare. They’ve got it all down.
The honor guard, just like the detail that escorted Matt’s body home, lives in another dimension, a world of precision and perfectibility. It is almost soothing to watch their smooth exact unison motions. Until they present arms and start shooting off their damn guns.
Then it’s the priest again. Again?! And the sign of the cross and something about silver cords and broken bowls and the spirit returning to the earth. Okay, Alice gets that part. That’s okay.
The soldiers take the flag from the coffin and fold it tightly, timing each fold, each move, the number of steps toward each other, the number of steps to hand the flag to Angie, the number of steps away.
In unison, they execute a slow ceremonial salute.
Angie holds the flag and Alice and Ellie hold each other and Gram as one soldier plays taps and they lower the coffin into the earth.
Normally playing taps would undo her. Alice can hear people quietly crying all around them, followed by all the unsuccessful attempts to discreetly blow noses.