The first time I see Eva she is standing over my father’s body. Eva places the back of her hand against my father’s forehead as if checking his temperature. She combs her fingers through his black hair, pushing the thin, scratchy strands away from his cold face. She touches my father in ways I never have, in ways I’ve never dreamed of doing. Eva turns and stares out at her audience, out at me. She leans against the casket. She bends until her face is hovering right above my father’s. Eva looks out at the audience before giving him a kiss on the lips. We all stare. Where did Eva learn to do that? Why didn’t we think to do that first? We all look at my mother. Why couldn’t we have been told?
My mother has decided it is her job, and her job alone, to train the professional mourners. There are only fifteen days before my father’s funeral. Today the professional mourners are rehearsing their sadness for the first time. Everyone has been here since five in the morning. Everyone except Eva. Eva steps farther into the funeral hall. The light coming from behind her is so bright it gnaws at her body. I close my eyes so that she is fully gone. I’ve never understood how things can dissolve when given too much brightness. I carefully open one eye, and the light drips away from Eva, and her body returns, unbitten and whole.
Already have an account? Log in
Join KR for even more to read.
