Let's end 2019 with an actual literature update on only my *checks notes* FOURTH post of the year...jeeze...
...I know what my resolution is gonna be...
The following is the entirety of what I was able to choke our from this years NaNoWriMo.
I need to get my haphazard life in order...
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[Dante's Divine Tragedy - The Funeral]
Dante was early. Too early. The parking lot was mostly empty, save for one unfamiliar car that likely belonged to the staff member. The nearby streetlights were off but the mid-autumn sunrise hadn’t yet broken through the clouds enough to illuminate too well. The lights inside were still dark and the building gave a very foreboding presence. Overall, it wasn’t a very inviting look for a funeral home.
Despite borrowing a truck to drive over with, Dante still had the misfortune of getting his feet and pants all muddied up. It had rained pretty bad the night prior and as he crossed through a vacant lot on his way over to pick up the truck, he didn’t realize how much mud he was kicking up until it was already too late. He figured he had plenty of time to go home and change. He could even drive now to save time, but the entire process of getting dressed and reaching the truck had been especially laborious on his soul already. The notion of repeating any already accomplished steps of his task, complete with the emotion and dread that would accompany them, was unacceptable. He would continue as is.
Dante approached the front door and tried the handle with little expectation. It looked empty, but the lone car discovered upon arrival suggested someone inside, and perhaps they neglected to lock the door behind them. The suspicion proved to be accurate as the door swung open and Dante was able to take refuge from the chilly morning air.
Once the door closed behind him, Dante was subjected to a deafening silence that only an unfamiliar business could provide. The freshly vacuumed carpet (that Dante felt a pang of guilt for tracking mud upon) and the soft couches in the foyer seemed designed to suck away any background noise and leave you only to your depressing thoughts. Beyond, the room opened up to a small memorial fountain that was currently still and quiet. Dante didn’t like it, but was petrified to do anything that would break such silence.
Instead the silence would be pierced by the sudden flushing of an unseen toilet. Seconds later a nearby door would squeal open and a man would step out while still tucking his shirt in. He looked up and was taken aback at the sight of Dante standing there. “Hi?” Dante uttered, unsure on how to proceed. Wasn’t this man supposed to be expecting people? Did Dante have the right day? Was he off by 12 hours?
“Um, we’re...uh, we’re not open yet,” the man stumbled his way through before finishing with his shirt. “Oh,” Dante said, collecting himself from his own abstract thoughts “It’s pretty cold outside though.” The man checked his watch and shrugged. “The Thompson service?” he asked. Dante reeled mentally. He wasn’t ready to hear that that name from a stranger. “Yeah,” he eventually responded. “Well it’s not for another half an hour,” the man reasoned.
“Oh,” Dante mumbled. He didn’t think this would be a problem.
“You didn’t bring anyone with you, did you?” the man asked.
“No, just me.”
“Well,” the man started after a sigh “The boss don’t like it, but he’s not in until noon. So as long as you’re quiet and no one else is following you, I don’t really care.”
“Thank you,” Dante said with a forced smile.
“Right,” the man said as he turned to direct Dante “Thompson’s room is left of the fountain, end of the hall.”
“Thank you,” Dante said again and started walking. The man stopped in front and offered a handshake. “Sorry for your loss,” he said. Dante looked to the hand and thought about how little time had passed between the toilet flush and the man leaving the bathroom. He ignored his hand and walked onward.
Dante made his way through the silence, the thick carpet seeming to absorb his every footstep. The man did not follow as Dante made his left at the fountain and continued down the impossible long hallway. The immediately available room he was passing was for someone else, an older Jewish man by the look of the photo by the door, and Dante caught a glimpse of a body on display. He shuttered at the thought of something similar that awaited him at the end of the hall.
Stopping at the threshold to his destination, Dante closed his eyes and took a breath. There by the door was a sign similar to the room he had just passed, indicating with her picture that Susan laid within. The door was open, but Dante’s mind refused to process what was inside as a final attempt to stall. He did not want to do this, but knew the only way he could bring himself to it was if he were alone with here.
Time was short; He knew that soon Susan’s family would be arriving. Her father especially, ever the punctual one, would stride in and ruin any hope Dante had at these final moments of privacy and solitude. He would march in, others in tow, and want exclusive charge of the day. He would delegate orders, he would nitpick everything in the room, and worst of all he would never stray from Susan’s side. Dante could not wait any longer. He afforded himself a second, deeper breath, and stepped inside.
The thick, dark carpet extended into the new room as well. The lights were on a low dim and the curtains closed, but Dante could make out where rows of chairs were set up all facing the coffin on the far side of the rectangular room. On one end of the room was a table set up with a multitude of trinkets that family members had set up as a sort of memorial with pictures of Susan all about. The coffin was flanked on each side by an entire garden worth of flowers. The casket was open, but thankfully it was too dark to make out the obvious occupant.
Dante switched the lights to a more appropriate setting and made his approach to the coffin with his head down and a knot in his stomach. At the foot of the coffin was a kneeler, but Dante made no attempt to use it; He knew there would be no getting up if he did. He finally brought himself to look down on the body of Susan. She laid peacefully in a light blue dress, not unlike one she used to wear years ago when her parents brought her to church.
The silence became more overbearing with each passing second. He couldn’t find words to say as he looked over the body. An emptiness in his heart turning to immense regret. His mind replaying a flood of memories of their life together. Dante lost track of the time as he stood over the coffin. Cars driving up and voices outside snapped him back to reality. Other people were arriving and Dante didn’t wish to be noticed or approached.
“I’m sorry,” he finally managed to choke out to Susan before he pulled himself away from the coffin and crossed the room.
The next half hour was a blur as family trickled in; the father and mother (arriving separately), aunts, uncles, cousins and several friends. None recognized Dante, or perhaps they just did not want to acknowledge him. Either way he was left alone as he sat in a large chair in the back corner of the room, farthest away from the coffin. He was left undisturbed, free to observe.
The mother cried a fair amount, mostly into the arms of her boyfriend. The father did most of the talking and handshaking as guests entered. Family and friends were mingling in groups, chatting and catching up. More than a few times Dante heard people utter that “it’s been too long.” People would occasionally stop by the coffin and briefly pay their respects, but then it was right back to their impromptu family reunion.
Of all the conversations Dante listened in on, none of them involved Susan. There seemed to be an unspoken fear of bringing up her name, let alone how she died. She was an afterthought. If Dante were a blind man and sat down today with no knowledge of where he was, never in a million years would he guess that he was sitting in on a funeral. There was just too much positive energy in the air.
The funeral service came and went and Dente was deaf to it all. He retreated into his own thoughts again. He seemed to blink and it was all over, people we filing their way out. At this moment he looked up and locked eyes with Susan’s father. There was a brief stare down before the father turned away and seemed to simply forget Dante. That was the only time any family noticed him.
Dante slinked his way outside and watched them eventually load Susan into a hearse. Then the procession began on its way to the cemetery. He had no intention of following. The woman being buried today was not Susan, just a facsimile of a girl he used to know. As the last car drove away and out of sight, Dante felt himself being overwhelmed by anger. He balled his hands into fists and closed his eyes tight trying to process the blunder he suddenly realized he just committed. Before today the last memory he had of Susan was when they were alive together. Now the last he knows of her is little more than a mannequin inside of a box. That particular image now dominated his mind, tainting all other memories of the woman he loved.
Loved.
The revelation of that life he had now completely behind him, firmly in the past-tense, is what finally broke the damn in his mind. He dragged himself to the truck in the parking lot and climbed inside. There he sat, a complete wreck, head dropped onto the steering wheel, screaming and crying until there was nothing left to push out.
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