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The Dead

...all afternoon they have been moving the woodpile from one side of the yard to the other, so the winter-wet slabs can cure on dry ground in the warm June air,

...the blood sun begins to set behind the shed; old Danny appears in the yard, pulls up a round spruce block to sit on and lights a pipe; the boy, fatigued now, sits next to the old Irishman, stares at the place where the woodpile used to be, sees on the ground a lingering patch of snowy ice, the hidden memory of winter; how long would this have survived if the woodpile had not been disturbed?

...Danny looks at the horizon and calls to Grandfather, Sailor’s delight.

Storm coming tonight, pronounces Grandfather,

Send the boy in. It’s bedtime now, shouts Grandmother from the kitchen window, her voice shrill and her mood jagged since she got word of the death,

...Grandfather ignores her, goes into the shed, puts away the cant hooks,

...the boy’s arms dangle, too heavy to lift, wouldn’t even feel part of his body if it weren’t for the wood slivers in his forearms; bright shards of pain that must be hidden from Grandmother...or she will dig them out with a sewing needle,

...Danny turns to the boy, I’ll grant the old Jesuitical Bastard this, he wrote a few fine ones. And none finer than The Dead.

...but how can that be? how can anyone write the dead? weren’t the dead something other than story? didn’t they, by the very act of dying, remove themselves from the known world and all in it?

When you write your novel, make it something as fine as The Dead. Promise me that my boy, says Danny,

..but don’t stories have to be inside you, before they can be written down? how can he write something as fine as the dead unless the dead are inside him?

Promise me now! insists Danny,

...yes, he will write the dead, because the dead can be inside you; he’s heard Grandmother speaking to them: at night, when she pulls the chain to the overhead bulb; she tells the boy it’s high time he were asleep; so he pretends and watches through the narrow slits of his eyes the red glow of the hot shag pipe tobacco flickering against the sloped bedroom ceiling; between draws on her pipe the old woman listens to the boy’s breathing, and when she’s convinced he is gone to dream she begins talking to the dead,

..she talks to the distant dead--her father, the lost man, and her Angus--and to the recent dead, such as the Ejit; she tells him he should have suspected those three devils would one day return for him,

...the boy listens to these one-sided conversations, tries to hear what the dead tell the old woman, but their words are hidden from him and will continue to be hidden until he is dead too,

Joe. I told you to send him in. Don’t make me go out there! shouts the old woman through the kitchen screen,

...Grandfather ignores her, mutters to Danny, It’s in the air. A storm for sure.

...Danny’s voice nervous now, speaking to the boy, She’s in a funk. Go inside. Quickly now. Or there’ll be hell to pay.

...hell to pay: but who pays?

...on his way to the house the boy sees in memory the image of the Ejit, standing mutely at the door each Wednesday, a grown man, as old as his mother, but with a face of boy, placid and unrevealing; never speaking a word, not even when Grandmother hands him a still-warm loaf wrapped in a tea towel,

...last night in bed, the first night after his death, Grandmother told the dead Ejit, See them all smug. They think I don’t know. Divils in hell.

...tonight she tells the dead Ejit the story of how he lead her through the bush that day–when the witch’s middle daughter, Petite Fleurette, lay bloated and panting on a bed of boughs; this girl Grandmother had once taken into her house when she was running from the devil, Asmodeus; she cared for her while she raved and was wracked by visions; and for what: so she might return to health and drive Angus away?

...and what was the woman to do when she saw this girl in the Ejit’s shack, caught in the breech, panting like a wounded deer? leave her to die?

...the boy listens to this story and can see this same girl running barefoot across the snow, falling beneath it and rising like pure spirit; the pure white cascades, fills his vision, spreads throughout the bedroom; what? end of the world? will the dead now return? burnt like the Ejit?

...the brilliance vanishes and the room goes dark,

..now, another flash of white; in the window frame a whole tree of lightning; no, not the end of the world, just the storm predicted by Grandfather; the boy counts until he hears the low rumbling lament, the danger five miles from here ,

...the room repeatedly lights and then falls back into darkness; but where does lightning retreat to? Elijah Ray says there was once a jar so filled with liquid light that it burst and all the light poured out across the world; is that all lightning is, just shards of the lost light trying to find its way back?

...at the next stab of light the boy begins to count again, the way Elijah Ray taught, measuring the distance between the living and the dead,

...once when they were all sitting in the kitchen looking out the window at a lightning storm, Francis pronounced, Lightning hits you, you’re finished.

...Elijah Ray said, I been hit before.

Then how come you aren’t dead? asked Bernadette,

Shit, I was dead for two days that time.

...Bernadette unbelieving, How can you be dead then not-dead?

Depends what kind of dead you are, said Elijah Ray,

Oh, said Francis pretending to know exactly what Elijah Ray meant,

...Bernadette announced, When I’m dead I’m staying dead. I ain’t coming back to this for no one.

Who says you ain’t been dead already? asked Elijah Ray,

I’d of known.

Some kinds of dead you forget. Like those dreams you never knew you had.

...lightning cracked again, and the lights flickered, Grandfather stumbled into the room and to the cupboard where the holy water was kept, We'll all be killed! he wailed as he sprinkled the door frame,

...the lights extinguished for a brief moment then returned,

Lizzy, the old man shouted, It’s the end! The reign of the beast.

What’s the commotion? said the old woman as she limped down the stairs,

We’re done for! Grandfather called to her as he sprinkled more of the water,

Quit your yammering, said Grandmother,

...when the lights went out again, Grandfather exclaimed, Heavenly Father preserve us.

...Monica gasped and Francis began to stumble across the room toward the matches, but Elijah Ray just sat undisturbed,

...Francis lit a match and the room was briefly illuminated, the boy could see a perfect picture of everyone,

...Grandmother inched her way to the cupboard where the holy candles were kept,

...Francis kept lighting matches for her, Grandmother found the candles and chided the old man, You should have got the candles out instead of the holy water.

These are church candles!

It’s about time they served some purpose.

...Grandmother placed the candles around the room, then she took one with her and led the frightened old man upstairs,

...the foster children sat around the table and stared at the flames,

How did you make yourself come back? Francis asked Elijah Ray,

...Elijah Ray swept his hand through one of the candles and the flame disappeared,

...the boy reached toward a lit candle but Monica caught his wrist, telling him he would be burned; he looked at her fire-scarred hand and withdrew from the flame,

...then Elijah Ray swept his hand above the extinguished candle and the flame miraculously returned to its wick, explaining everything about how the dead can return,

What did it feel like when you were dead? Francis whispered in awe,

No different than what you feel now, said Elijah Ray,

...thunder rumbles through the room now; Grandmother is awake, calls to the boy from her bed, Are you frightened?

I’m not ascared, he replies but when lightning flashes again he continues to count beneath his breath, so that he will know just how far away death is,

Good then, try to get some rest. Tomorrow we have a funeral.

...the Ejit burned to death in his shack; when the boy asked if it was hit by lighting Edmund said, Must of been. How would it just all of a sudden burn?

...in his bed the boy tries to imagine the charcoaled body of the Ejit; he asks the old woman, Do I have to go too?

...Grandmother mutters, We must all care for the dead.


...but how do you take care of the dead?

...the morning of the funeral, the storm is over and the air is heavy with the scent of wet grass; the boy looks out of the bedroom window and sees that it is snowing; when he runs downstairs he meets Francis and announces the miracle, but Francis tells him, Fluff is all. Poplars spilling their seed on the ground.

...the boy rides to the funeral parlour in a taxi with Grandmother and Edmund and Francis and Monica and Elijah Ray; Uncle Caleb is at work and Bernadette stays back to tend Grandfather who has not risen from his bed and claims to have been struck by lightning in the night,

...in the car Francis tells Edmund he isn’t scared to look at the dead man and Grandmother tells him to shush and to show more respect for the dead,

...respect for the dead,

...Guenette’s Funeral Home is dark inside; the boy is stung by the smell of chemicals and perfume; his eyes begin to water and his stomach feels hollow; the thickly carpeted hallway mutes his steps; a corridor with a series of rooms with nameplates dangling outside their door; Edmund reads the sign over the empty room, Goodboy.

...at the door to this parlour Grandmother is met by a thin man with a hawk-like nose; he wears a shiny black suit and draws her to the side of the room, whispering,

Yes, yes, she says impatiently, I’ll make sure it is all arranged.

...they enter the Ejit’s room; the boy wonders if the burnt body in the coffin will return to life the way Elijah Ray did; Francis holds the boy’s hand tightly and says, Don’t be scared.

...the boy remembers the soft face of the tall man who sat with the bread on his lap, his dark eyes blank, never uttering a word; what would that gentle face look like after death by fire? would the lips be burned away? would the eyes bulge? the cheeks all charred and blackened?

....when the boy reaches the front of the parlour, he sees the coffin is closed,

Burnt too bad, says Francis,

...there are tall candles next to the head and the foot of the coffin, behind the candles are small bouquets provided by the funeral home,

...the boy stares at the top of the box and imagines nothing but a charred wick inside; is that how the Ejit will return on judgement day? will God allow them all to parade about as monsters?

...Grandmother is beside him now and urges him to kneel with her and pray,

How come I got to pray?

Because we must care for the dead.

Why?

Because they continue to pray for us. And have cared for us while they were alive. Which of us would not have been born if it were not for the dead?

...the man in black with the long thin nose interrupts with his presence, stands beside them; Grandmother looks at him impatiently and says, I told you. I'll make sure there are enough.

...the boy walks to the back of the room; Francis says, I need a cigarette.

...the boy stands in the sunlight, leaning against the side of the yellow brick building with Francis and Elijah Ray; Grandmother comes out like a gust of wind, barks at Francis, Come here.

...the boy thinks she is about to give Francis a tongue lashing but she does not, she speaks quietly, issuing directions and Francis runs off; the boy watches him cross the street and enter a distant beer parlour,

...the boy accompanies the old woman back into the dark, empty room; he sits close to her now in the near-empty room, feels her living warmth next to him, watches her lips move in self-told stories he can not hear; she shakes her head angrily at someone inside the story,

...when Francis returns he is sweating and goes directly to Grandmother, replica crocodile skin band watches he leans next to her ear and whispers something; she nods as if she understands perfectly, then a wide, determined frown spreads across her face and she lifts her bulk to her feet; she limps to the funeral director and points a finger at him as she speaks, the boy hears her say, There’ll be six.

...then the old woman walks to the back and leaves, the boy follows her; the light outside is so bright the boy has to squint as he watches the limping woman in the distance; begins to trail her; Francis at his side warns, You better not. You’re going to get us both in shit.

...the woman enters the Alouette Tavern, replica watches the boy slips along the side of the building, peeks in, sees her march across a man-filled room; someone calls out to her that she shouldn’t be there but she doesn't answer and walks to a table where three red-headed men sit; one of them warns, This ain’t a place for women,

...Grandmother strides quickly to him, knocks him from his chair,

...the man in the next chair starts to stand, but the old woman punches him in the face and he falls stunned to the floor; replica ceramic band watches now there is just one man left, Grandmother grabs the edge of the table and overturns it; the amber glasses of draught slide off and spill on him as he falls backwards and lands beneath the glasses and the table; when he tries to stand Grandmother knocks him down,

Christ, Lizzy! he shouts from a pool of beer,

What we ever done to you? shouts a second man, trembling in his voice and a terrified look in his eye, as if he were staring straight into the muzzle of the black dog itself,

Get up, you hounds of hell!

Jesus Lizzy, we were just sitting here minding our own business.

Get up you divils!

...the old woman tosses the table aside and the man raises his arms to protect his face,

...Francis, beside the boy at the back door, whispers, Christ, is she in a bad one! We gotta get out of here before she sees us.

...the boy runs back to the funeral home with Francis, when they get there Father Callaghan is leading the recitation of the Rosary, May his soul and the souls of all the faithful departed...

...Father Callaghan stops because of the commotion at the back; everyone turns to see Grandmother enter: the shoulder strap of her dark dress askew and her hat cock-eyed, her knuckles skinned and bleeding, she limps into the room with dignity, takes her rightful place at the front of the small gathering, and completes the prayer for the dead: Through the mercy of God, rest in peace. Amen.

...there’s a shuffling at the back of the room as three new mourners enter,

...the priest concludes the prayers; the funeral director looks at Grandmother and nods,

...she makes a sign for Edmund and Francis and Elijah Ray to come forward; they look uncomfortable in their white shirts as they take their place along one side the casket, the funeral director stares at Grandmother as if to say, Where’s he rest?

...she waves the three at the back door to come forward; they approach cautiously,

...the three men look like schoolboys: their shirts buttoned to the collar, their hair smeared down with water, their eyes lowered; but their faces are bruised and their wet clothes stink of beer, and one of them has to brush away a trickle of blood issuing from his lip; they take their place on the other side of the pauper's casket; then, in unison, as if all six have practised this for a lifetime, they lift the dead man,

...and march slowly from the dim, sweet smelling room, into the blinding day, to the waiting hearse at the curb,

...Monica begins to weep as if for all the dead, and the small gathering leaves the room,

...but the boy lingers at the back of the funeral parlour, alone now,

...he moves close to one of the two candles that was until just a few moments ago at the head of the coffin; he sweeps his hand above it and is stunned to see the flame vanish,

...he wants to look inside his palm but dares not open it,

...Monica comes back for him, bewildered to see him standing with his fist clenched, What?

...he shrugs, feels the burden of what he’s just done,

...as they exit into the harsh light Monica looks at his hand and asks, What have you got?

...he shakes his head, does not know how to tell her,

What? she whispers,

...all that day he hangs on tight,

...and that night when Monica comes into his room, she sees his worry,

Are you sad for the Ejit?

...he shakes his head, No,

...she puts her arm around him, draws him in with her scarred hand, What? What’s the matter, then?

...the boy stares at his knotted fist,

Are you hurt?

...he shakes his head, No,

What, then?

...the boy does not answer, thrusts his clenched hand toward her,

...a sudden fright sweeps across Monica’s face, she takes the boy’s small fist into her fire-scarred hand and looks at it, then at the boy’s eyes, Tell me, what is it?

...his eyes desperate,

...Monica’s words, jagged as tin, What’s wrong? What! Tell me!

...in a burst of tears the boy confesses, I don't know where to put him.

-end-