Arsenic and Sugar

To Begin With An End

It seemed that all funerals happened on a particular sort of day. The clouds would always be heavy overhead but not so heavy as to pour rain on the mourners. The sun’s light would be a thick, white disk behind the blanket of grey, a mere ghost of its former self. The wind would always pick up at exactly the right moment, just enough to ruffle the veil of a woman in mourning, or to tickle the hair of a man in the procession. Those were the sorts of days that seemed to pay homage to the deceased by being appropriately dreary and exceptionally melancholy.

               Today was not that sort of day.

               It was sunny out, almost obscenely so. It made the mourners look wan in their dark, somber suits and dresses and veils. In fact, it seemed to mock them and their sadness. The clouds had vacated the premises for more important funerals, such as those of dignitaries and beloved leaders rather than that of a ranch owner from Montana. The grass was shockingly green and springy beneath the procession’s multitude of feet, and the somber coffin looked out of place against the back drop of bright robin’s-egg-blue sky. The tombstones appeared bored, and even the stone angels looked disinterested. Today was just another day, and another person had died. Boohoo. Oh well. It was time to move on and get the ball rolling again.

               The procession, after their obligations had been fulfilled, dispersed rather quickly as if to get out from underneath the bright, overly cheerful sun. Not fifteen minutes after the deceased was interred the crowd had already headed for home. For the people of Cairnsby, this had been more of a duty. Those that truly knew the man who was now under the earth had stayed a while longer, but they were not of the sentimental variety, and so they doffed their hats and left.

               This left only one person at the grave site as the grave management packed up the tent that had hung over the burial spot like a silly looking goose. The wind ruffled at her clothes, gently at first and then roughly, but she didn’t pay any mind. The tombstone she stood in front of on the freshly turned earth stated the name, birth date, and death date of the deceased in no-nonsense lettering. For several moments she stood, lone on the hill with the obnoxiously bright sky, painfully happy birds, sprightly green grass, and energetic wind. It was as if the world was attempting to forget this man had ever lived, to not even have the courtesy to bear witness to his passing. It wasn’t surprising. He was that sort of man, the type that could blend in with a neon-painted wall. Yet, at the same time, the world was trying so hard to forget him that it made his passing that much starker.

               “Vickie?” The woman turned at the sound of her name. People didn’t usually call her Vickie. People usually didn’t call her anything. She tended to emulate her father – she just blended in with everything else. That wasn’t to say she was a wallflower – more like, her presence wasn’t noted until it was gone. Her father had always told her that they were the most dangerous sort of people, because others didn’t notice they were even there until they’d left. It was one of the reasons why people felt so uneasy around them. They faded too quickly from memory. They were easy to forget.

               Shaken from her deep thoughts, a man was walking towards her. He was wearing a suit, just like every other man who’d come. It was a drop of ink against the blue sky, and the contrast was not lost on her. The world had a sense of humor.

               “You okay, Vickie? I’m sorry for your loss, I truly--” He stopped short as he realized that Vickie was no longer listening to him. She was staring at the headstone, lost in her thoughts again. In the back of his mind, he noted that this family always had that habit of ignoring people who tried too hard to seem sincere.

               “How did he die? No one would tell me,” the man said. His eyes searched her round, soft face. As ever, no emotion was truly displayed, just a nonchalance towards everything. She suddenly gave a very small smile, and she said, “He died like everyone else. He stopped living.” Her words were sardonic, and he was shocked by her ability to joke about such a grave matter as her father’s death.