The Farmer and the Girl

Chapter Nine - The Funeral

Gathered in once place, the whole village pooled in a giant black dot. No major event, even the harvest celebration, could do so better than a rehearsed yet fresh occasion like a funeral. The news of death magnetized people in a funny way. Regardless of the proximity to the deceased, there was always that weird interest followed by flat condolences. The villagers stood in awe, having nothing to gain from this occurrence beside the chills and reminders that accompany the presence of death, while the family members carried the process smoothly, as if it came to them naturally; new faces Ava had not seen here before, wearing such stern expressions one would think they will never taste joy again yet with such hungry eyes devouring all their surroundings greedily.

The girl did not have a place at the front rows as they lowered the casket down, no matter how much she wished to be close to him at that moment of final departure. In the end, she was not a part of his family and the faces she was seeing for the first time were the closest. But it did not matter, did it? Not that he could tell or care anymore.

People offered so many words at the reception, withering as fast as the flowers they brought along. And as the funeral was about to end and people started to leave the girl finally had a chance to approach the grave. She stood there in her sole elegant black dress. She had to say something, she knew this too well, but the goodbyes she wished to bid would not reach and get a reply no matter how loud or deep she murmured them. Besides, she really did not have anything to say at that moment, nothing crossed her mind and no words rolled on her tongue. Only a casual thought hovered briefly; she is ought to buy more black dresses as images of her mother, aunt, cousins, teachers, friends all passed by her mind.

"Thank you for coming, I know he would have appreciated it very much."

A big - boned woman, obviously in her fifties trying to pass for forty, told Ava and her mother on their way out; a stranger Ava had not seen in the palace before but she was speaking on his behalf as if she had known him very well. Ava only nodded silently while her mother returned the courtesy with a response she did not care to hear.

The girl took her mother's arm to support her as they went back home. On their way, her mother mumbled while shaking her head:

"Poor thing, he was young... such a shame..."

Ava shrugged, replying almost to herself:

"Well that's how things go sometimes."

"Indeed... indeed..."

Her mother nodded in agreement, looking back at the dispersing funeral; so many details to tell her sister back at their farm.

When they arrived home, Ava excused herself and went directly upstairs. once she entered her room, she closed the door carefully behind her and fell down crying.

For a few days, Ava maintained their routine. Strolled here and there, watched the sunset, followed the birds, walked all the way up to the mill while humming a tune or two, wondered at the sunsets. But then, this quickly got boring. She could not tell if it was due to the lack of company or if it was destined to become eventually dull even if the farmer had remained.

One thing she maintained for a whole week before feeling unwelcomed and losing an explanation behind it was her visits to the farmer's grave. At times she would find some farmers paying the young man's resting place a visit as well, but never his family members. Maybe no coincidence was designed to bring her with any of them and it did not take much for the voices of familial discord and successors disagreements over the inheritance to be exposed on the tongues of maids and flying the wings of rumors to the whole village. Ava looked around her, although appearing the same, the air to the farm smelled different. Mere days after his death and it was already changing. Even the flowers they had send down with him must have withered as they were destined to bloom into nothing.

Losing interest in the old routine, Ava opted to an easier one as there was no point in keeping the older one or rather, no point in the old routine itself. She woke up at any time she wanted, ate whenever she felt like it, barely slipped out of her sleeping gown, read at random and replied to no letters. This new behavior worried her mother who never stopped nagging at her, finally confronting her directly about her ballet career. Ava admitted to herself long before facing her mother's accusations that to be worried about the way she was carrying herself around lately was in place. From the outside, this style of life provoked no danger but it was also so stale. She herself could not understand how she kept at it when some fire occasionally stirred inside of her. She got nothing out of this lifestyle, but really, what would she get from any different lifestyle? They all ended the same.

She thought back to the previous few months. It was clear that her time at least was better organized when spending it with the farmer. Also, at least she got some fun out of it, heard a story, learned a fact about a plant or a fruit though she was not going to use it or even need it, got some genuine praise when performing a move no matter how silly or easy she viewed it. Ava reviewed these facts and discovered in irony that her previous few months with the farmer did not differ much from the way she spent her days now. She got nothing real out of both.

But what did it mean, that occasional fire that stirred inside of her from time to time? She would be sitting down, doing nothing when a surge of worry would build inside her heart. The boredom that dominated her thoughts would be suddenly invaded by a wave of restlessness she could not know where it came from. It meant something, maybe her body was giving her a warning signal. Staying here or going back... These were her choices. This situation was not what she had aspired for. But what she wished for didn't come to her, not in the picture she imagined in the least. It was not as grand and perfect as she had desired. And on top of that, it was tiring and demanding. Well, she did not mind the effort but she detested its sterility. The fruit of her work did not ripen as she had hoped it would, and this left her empty. But then again not as empty as her current state. "How unfortunate", she thought to herself; if her career was grandiose or if the farmer had remained alive or ill, at least then she would have an excuse, an equal balance for the two options of staying or leaving. Ava curled around herself while hugging the bed sheets. From the corner of her eye she could tell the sun was setting down. Time flew undetected these last days. How fast it crept through the farmer's life, how abruptly it vanished. But her case was different, she still had her life ahead of her, she was struck by no illness or disaster so far... so should she really be writhing by herself here at this village?

He claimed to love the village, his whole life centered about the biggest farm there, his farm. But the farmer did not take anything with him, not a fruit or a branch, and he realized this at his final moments; oh that frantic look born of the cruelty of realization and the fear of admittance, it was enough to spark Ava back into the city at that instant, but she was and still so weak and hesitant. The farmer had realized the futility of his inheritance that was lost on someone else, undeserving. But she was different, right? What she did was different, what she would leave behind was something no one could take or claim, it was hers and hers alone, a fame, a performance, an art... so maybe there is a point in her trials...

Visiting his grave one last time, she took her time to sit down and stare into a silent conversation. She will be moving on, she had made him a promise on his deathbed. Ava felt terrible for using her promise to him, though insincere at that moment and shaped by the spur of the situation, she hated to use it as an excuse for the decision that should be hers alone but she needed that, at least for the time being, while she gets on her feet again.

This time she was able to leave the grave with a smile, placing two white flowers and praying, though knowing it was in vain, that they would not wither.