15 April 2007

— reprieve —

Whispers of her graceful stoicism floated through the room, as eyes filled with pity and admiration followed Elaine as she politely made her way to all the guests. With the gracious smile curling the corners of her mouth, she thanked them for coming on this truly miserable day.

Actually, it was a perfect day for a funeral, cold and rainy with a raw wind permeating both windows and souls, and low grey clouds floated just above the chilled, choppy water, creating a perfect seamlessly gray scene.

A professional with an eye for detail, Elaine took care to speak with everyone, offering a requisite hand to offered condolences; her elegantly set shoulders remained square and upright under her navy pinstriped suit. She looked far too young to be a widow, with her fine sandy blonde hair worn loose.

“It’s incredible how brave she is, I just can’t believe it, his illness came on so suddenly,” Abby, Elaine’s co-worker, murmured to Jack’s sister.

“It’s crazy, one day all was fine and the next Jack was in the hospital and now, now he’s gone. Everything happened so fast, I imagine poor Elaine hasn’t had a chance to think,” Sue concurred.

Sue watched as Elaine went from one person to the next so poised. “She’s so composed, it’s amazing! You know it’s funny, all the time I spent with her, these past few days; I’ve never seen her cry, not once. . . Don’t you think that’s a little odd?”

“It probably hasn’t hit her yet, she’s been so busy making arrangements and whatnot; she probably hasn’t had a moment to herself. . . Besides everyone deals with tragedy differently,” Abby suggested.

Tears welled in Sue’s eyes, as she remembered Jack as the life of the party and a true comedian, always trolling for the next laugh, she dabbed them dry.

“Yes, you’re right. I’ve been so upset that I certainly haven’t been any help whatsoever. . . Elaine’s been so strong!"

As Abby consoled Sue, she asked “Why is it they never had any children, I wonder?”

Overhearing the query, Elaine turned around and replied, “Jack wouldn’t have made a very good father, he was barely a husband, just too much of a baby himself. . . I don’t regret the abortion.”

T.R. McKee is the mother of three grown children, who is enjoying her free time writing now. Other stories of hers are or are scheduled to be published in The Green Silk Journal, Shine—The Journal, Flash Flooding and Apollo's Lyre. She can be reached for comments at trm2@bellsouth.net.

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