Three is a crowd: Sorry for the inconvenience, Diane

(Continued from last issue)

David and Diane have been married for years; then there is Julie, the young secretary whose axis collides with the couple’s in ways none of them saw coming.

DAVID

I spent the night sitting by the vigil fire with the rest of the male mourners, who had taken over that area for the night, leaving the house for the women and children.

I pretended to listen to their small talk, that was clearly meant to distract me from my grief, but failed miserably, as the sense of loss and grief I felt was so strong it seemed to permeate every cell in my body, and overshadowed everything and everyone.

Even though I had known he was dying, my father’s death still felt like a sudden blow, and now that he was actually gone, all I could think was that I was not ready for him to go yet, and that I did not know how I was going to manage to fit into his shoes and take on all the responsibilities he had left me as his heir.

The fear of failing, or letting him down in some way was very real, and the anxiety it caused, coupled with my grief, kept me awake throughout the night until wisps of red and orange began to break through the early morning sky as the sun rose.

Only then did I shake myself out of the catatonic-like trance I had drifted into, as I got up to get ready for what would no doubt be a grueling day ahead.

The first order of business was getting back to the house to freshen up and change for the funeral service, as well as pack an overnight case for the trip to the village; so, after a quick stop in the house to tell my sister where I was going, and assure her that I would be back soon, I was off.

Diane was still asleep when I arrived, and seeing her cozily tucked up in bed, after the night from hell that I had just had, I felt a perhaps unreasonable twinge of resentment; how could she sleep soundly, without a care in the world, while my world was falling apart?

DIANE

I was woken up the next morning by the sound of wardrobe doors being opened and slammed shut, drawers being pulled out and pushed back loudly, and through half-open eyes, heavy with sleep, I saw David going through the room, haphazardly picking up clothes and different personal effects, and tossing them into an open case on the floor.

“Morning; what time is it?” I asked sleepily.

He didn’t answer me, acting like he had not heard me, which was not hard to believe, considering the amount of noise he was making. So, rolling onto my side, I stretched out for my phone, and checked for myself.

“It’s not yet even seven!” I exclaimed in a mixture of surprise and protest at being woken up so early. He still did not answer me, though this time I was sure he had heard me; so, I went on: “I thought the service was at nine; we still have almost three hours till then.”

This finally elicited a response, though he did not pause from his packing to face me.

“Maybe you do; I still have to get back to the house to pick up my mum first,” he answered gruffly.

His response got rid of the last vestiges of my sleep, and I jerked up into a sitting position.

“Your mum? I thought you were going with the children and I – like a proper family,” I added with slight emphasis.

“No; my mum, sister and I, will escort the body from the house to church, and then to the village after the service.”

“What about the kids and I?” “What about you? You have a car, don’t you?” he asked snidely.

“Yes, I have a car, but that doesn’t mean I was planning on driving it all the way to the village!” I answered in exasperation.

“Why not? It’s not that far,” he argued, as though driving for three hours, most of it on terrible roads, with three children, was no big deal.

“Maybe not for you, but it is for me!” I insisted firmly.

“Then don’t come,” he shrugged nonchalantly.

“You want the kids to miss their grandfather’s funeral!”

“No, but you don’t want to drive them, and I’m driving my mum; so, what do you want me to do?” he snapped.

“Fine, I’ll drive to the church, but have the driver drive the kids and I to the village,” I sought to find some middle ground.

He paused from his packing then, and seemed to consider my suggestion briefly, before rejecting it.

“No, I need the driver for work at the site.”

I couldn’t help myself. “You mean for her!” I retorted.

He glared at me, then wordlessly strode into our bathroom, slamming the door behind him.

JULIE

I woke up with the same sense of calm and purpose I had gone to bed with the previous night; I was going to take care of Junior, get him to his daycare, and go to the site.

Beyond that, there was one other very important thing I intended to do – attend the funeral service for David’s father.

Even though David had not asked me to go, and considering that his wife would be there, probably didn’t even want me there, I had made up my mind to attend once he sent me the funeral program the previous night.

I did not want to cause any trouble or drama; so, I had already decided I would sit at the back of the church, out of sight of his wife, who would no doubt be sitting at the front with the rest of the family, if her positioning at the vigil the previous day was anything to go by.

Unlike her, I did not crave recognition, or demand some sort of status symbol; there was no ulterior motive or hidden agenda in my decision; I was going to the funeral service to pay my final respects to David’s father, a great man who had shown me kindness and acceptance before his death since I had not been able to do so at the vigil that I had been so unceremoniously ushered out of, and obviously could not go for the funeral.

My plan was to first drop Junior at the daycare, as I did not want to risk him getting tired or fussy at the church and attracting attention.

I would then go for the service, after which I would head to the site, before finally picking up Junior on my way back to the apartment at the end of the day.

The only thing left for me to figure out was what transport I was going to use for all this; David had not said anything in his text the previous night about whether the driver and a car would be available while he was gone or not, and I did not want to ask him; so, was considering calling the driver to ask what his instructions were, when there was the sound of David’s trademark brief knock, and key turning in the lock, at the front door. As I turned to face it in surprise, he walked in.

margaretwamanga@yahoo.com

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