Alice Bliss - Laura Harrington [92]
“Are you from my father’s unit?”
“No.”
“Did any of you know him?”
“No. I’m sorry.”
Gram steps forward.
“Come on, honey.”
Alice stands her ground. She turns to the single, saluting soldier.
“Did you know my father?”
He shakes his head. She turns back to the coffin.
“Can you put the coffin down, please?”
There is hesitation all around, subtle shifts in the soldier’s bodies, as they cannot break rank and look at each other. Alice chooses one soldier to speak to.
“Can you just let him touch the ground, please?”
The wind picks up; sand and dust swirl around their feet. It is possible that the soldier could choose to let the wind blow Alice’s words away, but she is standing firm and speaking clearly and looking him in the face even though he cannot meet her eyes.
He speaks a brief command, and then, moving as one, the soldiers lower the coffin to the ground and take a step away. She kneels beside the coffin and lays one hand on the smooth wood. She wants a moment for her father to land on the ground, for his body to arrive here, at home. She does not want her father’s soul to be lost in Iraq or in a plane flying above the ocean or somewhere in an army hospital in Delaware. She wants his soul to come home, however briefly, home, before it goes on whatever journey a soul must take, and she doesn’t believe this is possible if he never actually touches the ground. If she could she would open the coffin and put his feet on the ground, but this is the best she can do.
Angie reaches out to take her hand, pulling Alice to her feet, releasing the soldiers. They lift the coffin to their shoulders, walk the last steps to the hearse, and slide the coffin into the waiting bay.
They all wait where they are until the hearse starts up. The soldiers remain at attention while the family piles back into the car and slowly drives off, following the hearse. Ellie kneels on the seat and watches out the back window. Not one soldier moves a muscle while she can still see them. Uncle Eddie takes the turn onto Columbus Avenue too fast and Ellie slides into a seated position in between Alice and Gram. Angie puts her head back against the headrest and closes her eyes. She is as pale as the moon.
Gram reaches up and strokes Angie’s hair. Alice notices that Gram’s hand is trembling. Gram, realizing what Alice has seen, shifts to rest her hand on Angie’s shoulder.
“We’ll get through this,” Gram says.
Angie clasps Gram’s hand, and Alice sees that she is wearing Matt’s wedding ring on her second finger. When did they give that to her? In the morgue? Was it in a small plastic bag or an envelope? Did she slip it off his finger herself? Did they let her touch him? Why did Angie go alone, why didn’t she take Gram or Uncle Eddie with her, why did she refuse to let Alice come along?
Why are all of these things happening so quickly? There is too much to do, there are too many steps to take, no, no, there is not enough to do, she sees now; it will all go by too fast, it is out of her hands, it will all happen whether she wants it to or not, and he will be gone, truly gone, dead and buried, and there will not even be this, this strange hollow awkwardness, this unnatural quiet to fill up the emptiness he has left behind.
“Home?” Uncle Eddie asks.
“Mom, where are Dad’s dog tags?” Alice asks.
“Home,” Angie answers, touching her throat and the metal chain under her shirt collar.
“Can I have them?” Ellie asks. “Alice has his watch.”
“Not now, girls.”
They ride in silence, a terrible brittle silence. The air of the car is so full of unspoken feelings Alice is surprised the windows don’t blow out. She wants to shout or jump on the seat or scream; instead she opens the window to try to release the pressure. If they weren’t traveling I-90 at seventy miles an hour, she would stick her head out the window; her head, her torso, her arms, her legs, and suddenly she is fantasizing about jumping out of the car window, landing on the pavement, being hit by a car . . . Jesus! Where