Alice Bliss - Laura Harrington [87]
The sample cases contain very glossy photographs of all kinds of coffins, shown open and shut. There are samples of too-shiny satin in lurid colors, fancy turned brass handles, all of which can be mixed and matched, like picking an outfit. Urns, should they go that way, large and small, plain and fancy, some are blown glass, some are hammered brass. There are pages and pages of choices for the registry book, for cards and prayer cards, and Mass cards, and preprinted thank-you cards.
“Who will be writing the obituary?” Ms. Mahoney asks.
They make their choices and their decisions, one by one. Angie is numb; Alice just wants to get away, to get outside, to go running, to think about, to feel something, anything else.
When Ms. Mahoney finally leaves, Mrs. Grover and Gram serve dinner. They all pretend to eat. Uncle Eddie and Henry are pretty successful at it. Afterward, Alice heads to the kitchen to help Mrs. Grover clean up.
Henry is taking out the trash. Mrs. Grover is trying to keep Alice up to date with the food and the leftovers and what they should keep on hand and what they should freeze. Alice wants someone else to keep track of this. But she is trying to help; she is trying to focus on what they should do with the leftover green beans and will anyone want any more of Stephie’s mom’s Jell-O salad? Which Stephie delivered herself while Alice was out in the garden.
“Mom, you decide,” Henry says as he carries another trash bag out the backdoor.
Angie has gone upstairs to lie down, Uncle Eddie has gone to the garage to check on things, and Ellie is giving Gram a foot massage in the living room.
Mrs. Grover fills the sink to wash the dishes. Alice grabs a dishtowel. This she can do.
“Any more trash?” Henry wants to know.
“That’s it.”
He sits down at the kitchen table and grabs another molasses cookie. Alice pours him a glass of milk.
“You could still go tonight, you know,” Mrs. Grover says.
“Go where?” Alice asks.
“To the dance.”
Uh oh, Henry thinks, not a good idea.
“It’s not a crime or anything. You could ask your mom, Alice.”
“But—”
“I don’t think your dad would mind.”
“I don’t feel like—”
“It might do you good.”
“I don’t—”
“That’s okay, Alice. I don’t mind, really,” Henry says.
“You could still go, Henry.”
“Without you? Forget it.”
Alice looks out the kitchen window to her dad’s workshop and the garden beyond. The last of the sunset is still coloring the sky. The last thing in the world she feels like doing is going to the school gym to see all those people, to know that they all know what’s happened, but they don’t know, can’t know what to say.
“We wouldn’t have to go inside, even.”
Henry, it seems, can read her mind.
“You know how there’s that grassy area outside the gym, where the big maple tree is?”
“Just watch, you mean?”
“Or just listen. Maybe dance a little on the grass.”
Alice dries another plate.
“I mean we could go in if you want to, if you change your mind or anything; I’m just saying we don’t have to. . . . Not to pressure you or anything.”
Alice continues to stare out the window. Mrs. Grover dries her hands on her apron and puts her arm around Alice’s shoulder.
“You do what feels right to you, honey. It was just a suggestion.”
Alice puts her arm around Mrs. Grover’s soft waist in her paisley dress. Mrs. Grover feels so different from Alice’s mother.
“I know your dad would like to see you in that dress.”
“No, he’d think . . .”
“He’d be wondering how you grew up so fast and got so pretty. He’d be wondering how it is he hadn’t noticed all kinds of things about you while you were right under his nose.”
Alice, embarrassed, pulls away.
“You go change. I’ll help Henry get ready.”
“I have to ask my mom.”
“I know. I’ll pick you up about . . .”
“We wanted to walk.”
“That’s fine, then. Henry will be back to pick you up in thirty minutes. If all you do is walk to the corner and back, that’s fine, too.”
“Okay.”
“But stop by afterward and let me see you in