A World of Misfits

The thief

Two funerals in two weeks, this is depressing. Plus I think it's the friend of the man from two weeks ago who died this time. Same funeral home, same people, same flowers. I can't wait for summer to start and to be crumbling under wedding orders. I stand in my corner again, looking at the sun playing on the walls. The sun turns this room into the kind of room you would find in a castle. I run my fingers on the tapestry of the wall next to me, my fingers sliding over the soft surface like they are dancing on a cloud of sun. I'm lost in thoughts when a loud noise from the middle of the room startles me.

-Thief! Screams a very old and tiny woman.

That woman who's been sitting in her wheelchair since she got here never said a word. She's this fragile, little thing of a woman, with bony hands and big owl eyes. She likes to stare, that I know, she's been staring at me for the last 20 minutes. But from her seat, she probably was the only one who saw her, the thief. I look at the girl, recognizing her at once. It's the same girl, the thief from last time. In her hand, I can see the cookie she just stole. Around her is now closing a circle of old people, asking questions. I don't think, I just start walking toward the circle.

-Why did you take the cookie?

-Why are you stealing?

-Who are you?

-Someone call the police!

Everybody seems to have forgotten the dead man they are supposed to be crying and are now telling the ones who don't know what's going on that there's a thief in the place. I make my way to the middle of the circle where the widow is questioning the girl.

-Hey! Thanks for coming, I say without thinking.

Everybody stops talking and looks at me.

-You know this young woman, asks the widow.

-Yes, she's my sister. She was coming to pick me up.

There's a moment of silence where everybody looks at me, then at the girl and back at me. I know she's also staring at me, but I don't meet her eyes. The only way to make a lie work is to look confident and innocent. The widow narrows her eyes at me and I smile shyly. And then, out of nowhere, she starts crying again and throws herself in the arms of the thief.

-Thanks for coming! She says. This means a lot to me.

As the widow is crying on her shoulder, I finally get a good look of the girl. She's tall, her skin is a nice caramel color, like she's always just walking out of the tanning salon. Her brown hair is wavy and stops right over her shoulder. Her eyes meet mine and she smiles. One thing that hits me is how pink her lips look compared to the white of her teeth. And as she smiles, her eyes light up. I smile back and go stand in my corner again. When she finally gets the widow to let go of her, she walks towards me and stands next to me. For a moment, we just stand there, not talking, not looking at each other either.

-So, you come to funerals to steal food? I finally ask her.

-Not exactly, she answers.

Her voice is low and scratchy, and I can hear the hint of an accent at the end of her words.

-Thank you, that was cool what you did.

-Yea no problem.

Silence again. I look at the sun on the wall and wish I was back in my bubble. This conversation is getting very awkward and I don't like awkward.

-I'm sorry for your loss, she says.

-I'm not here for the funeral, I blur out.

-I don't understand, she replies.