 |
By *rgeo OP Man
2 weeks ago
WOLVERHAMPTON |
Stéphane stood at the bottom of the steps which led up to the crematorium entrance. The door had closed softly behind him as he had stepped out into the rain. It was late in July. A sudden summer shower was bringing the pavements to life with clouds of steam as the cold rain hit the warm tarmac. Stéphane shivered, but not from the cold or the rain. He had left the service early, unable to bear the sight of the two coffins disappearing from the catafalque behind the heavy cloth curtains. This was the part of any funeral that always made him shudder. Today, it was ten times worse, as the service was for his wife and her mother, his mother-in-law, a double funeral.
He was a tall, handsome man, just a few days shy of his 35th birthday. Unbeknownst to him, his wife had made plans for a surprise party. Now, none of his friends or family had the heart to tell him about this, not wishing to add more pain to a day which would already be painful enough when it came around. He was wearing a borrowed black suit and tie, with a simple white shirt underneath. As the rain fell upon him, his shirt stuck to his chest. Stéphane was glad of the distraction, of a physical sensation overriding his internal turmoil.
The heavy wooden door of the crematorium swung open silently and an older man came out alone. This was Alex, the father-in-law, the man who had lost his wife and daughter. They had been involved in a nasty traffic accident on the motorway, returning from a shopping expedition. The lorry that had crushed their car had also caused the deaths of four other people. The lorry driver was awaiting trial.
Alex walked down the steps and stood next to Stéphane. The rain was getting heavier and Alex was inclined to motion for them both to take shelter. He thought better of it and allowed his son-in-law to remain where he stood. He too was wearing a borrowed black suit and tie. They had gone together a week earlier to pick out their funeral clothes. Like Stéphane, he too welcomed the sensation of the rain against his face and body, little caring if they ended up getting soaked through.
A fresh wind got up and blew over the two men. Their jackets fluttered in the breeze. Stéphane’s black tie flapped to one side. His wet shirt was becoming translucent, almost transparent. As he looked over at him, Alex could see the dark circles of the younger man’s nipples against the cotton and inwardly he winced, as a pang of intense physical desire overtook him. This was the latest in a series of such reactions, and Alex was struggling to make sense of it.
Suddenly, the large doors behind them opened wide and the rest of the mourners walked down the steps towards them. Alex was conscious of his position at that moment, as head of the family, of wanting to do the right thing, to say the right words, but his heart was not in it. He turned and smiled as people came towards him, shaking his hand, offering their sympathies. These same people then moved on to Stéphane, who met them all courteously and kindly. A few people were crying quietly, dabbing their eyes with handkerchiefs. One woman, the sister of Stéphane’s wife, was sobbing loudly. She was being comforted by her own husband and her young daughter.
Slowly, they formed a procession that walked across to a smaller outdoor building, where they could sit or stand and talk to one another. It was open to the elements on two sides, but had a roof which provided sufficient shelter. From where they were gathered, there was a view across the cemetery to the distant mountains of Wicklow. There was to be a wake later that evening at a pub in the village. Meanwhile, the guests would disperse and travel back to their homes or lodgings. Only Alex and Stéphane would remain at the site, as arranged, allowing them their own period of private mourning.
In the car, earlier that morning, as Stéphane had climbed in to sit beside him, Alex had once again felt a sharp pain run through him, like an electric shock, as the young man had patted him on the leg. It was a simple gesture, but it had affected Alex tremendously. The start of it all had been on the day they went together to the outfitters to choose their clothes for the funeral. It was the very first time that Alex had seen Stéphane semi-stripped and he couldn’t understand why the sight of him like this should be so exciting. He assumed that his grief was playing a trick on him, taking him to strange new places and to feelings he had never entertained before. Eventually, he would come to see the whole picture, the clear history of it, but at this moment, going through it, the newness of it was too overwhelming to be understood and assimilated.
They sat together side by side on a bench in the cemetery garden. The rain had eased off, but both men were conscious of their damp clothes. It would now be a relief to get back to the family home, take a warm shower and change. Stéphane was staying with Alex in the cottage that he had shared with his wife for twenty years. It was their retirement home, Alex having left his city job early with a decent pension and a healthy bank balance. He was sixty-five years old, a well-preserved, attractive older man, a few inches shorter than Stéphane’s impressive height of over six feet.
Finally, Stéphane stood up as if to indicate that he was ready to leave. They had not spoken a word to one another since the service had started. It seemed to both of them that there was nothing left to say about the tragedy and its after-effects. They both knew intimately what the other was going through. There was no need to articulate the grief that either of them felt. To attempt to do so would be an almost brutal act.
Alex also stood up and looked towards the carpark, which was now empty of all but one car, his red Range Rover. Stéphane turned to Alex and looked at him calmly and kindly. Unexpectedly, he stepped forward and hugged him tightly. A wave of inexpressible emotions flooded over Alex. He could barely stand, his knees buckling. He responded in kind, grasping the younger body around the middle and pulling him in closer. Alex trembled and Stéphane could sense it. He gripped him even tighter so that Alex felt the breath being squeezed out of him. He gasped for air and moaned slightly. Stéphane relaxed and held his father-in-law against his chest, gently rubbing his damp hair.
“We need to get these wet clothes off,” said Stéphane. |
