Aunt Carmen was my mother's twin sister. We came from a family of twins. I couldn't imagine losing Alicia. As kids, we had been inseparable, but grew independent as teenagers. Mom and Aunt Carmen weren't as independent as Alicia and I. Aunt Carmen lived so close. She was the babysitter when Mom and Dad were out. They had both lived in the city together during college. They were best friends, so seeing my mother inconsolable was devastating. She wasn't even fifty-years-old, but she died from a heart attack in her sleep. Uncle David found her in the morning. I didn't even know until I went on lunch and saw the missed calls from my family. I had tuned everything out so much during work. I felt guilty, but Alicia was still in the city so I met up with her and we took the train back to Ossining.
We had a graveside funeral, something Aunt Carmen wanted. She liked them because, as she used to say, "no point in crying, plenty of point in eating." So the actual funeral was quick. She also liked throwing the dirt over the casket. She used to say she thought being a mortician would be fun. She had a unique sense of humor. The rabbi made a few initial remarks. We led the prayer recital. The casket was lowered. We had the graveside ceremony where Mom gave a short but loving eulogy, quoting Aunt Carmen on how the best part of a Jewish funeral was the food. Then it was time for the Mourner's Kaddish. Then, one by one, we took turns shoveling dirt onto the casket. Uncle David was crying. His face was so grief-stricken after he walked away from the casket. It was the saddest thing I had ever seen. Elijah's sobs echoed as he walked over to his car.
After the burial, we drove to Uncle David's house. Everyone washed their hands before entering the house. We had a meal of consolation. The shiva began. We practiced some orthodox traditions, like the hand washing, but we didn't cover up the mirrors or avoid "vanity." None of us were that devout or orthodox, especially not Aunt Carmen who refused to leave the house without her ruby red lipstick. That was always the best way to tell my mother and Aunt Carmen apart. Mom went for more of a pink lip.
Aunt Carmen's favorite part of attending a shiva was the socializing. This was my least favorite part. The last shiva I had been to was two years ago, so at least this time I could talk about my promotion. As the guests piled into the house, eating and sharing their food, Alicia grabbed my arm.
"You didn't tell me your boss was coming," she said.
I snapped my head up, looking for Lafayette. "Where is he?" I asked.
"Grandma's talking to him right now," she said, referring to Dad's mom.
"Oh jeez," I said, knowing full well that my grandmother was a talker. She also sometimes asked invasive questions. I don't think Lafayette had ever attended a shiva, so I doubt he was prepared to socialize so much.
I found him in the living room surrounded by a group of elderly women, including Grandma. He was being kind, but he seemed a little perplexed at all of the attention. "Mr. Jett," I said, trying to interfere. "Thank you for coming."
"Of course," he said. "Your grandmother was just introducing me to her bingo friends."
"Thank you all for coming," I said to them.
"I'm wearing one of your dresses," said a woman that I had never even met.
"Yes, it looks lovely on you," he said.
"Mr. Jett," I said. "Can you help me with something?"
"Yes. It was lovely meeting you all," he said, smiling at my grandmother.
"I'll bring you one of my sandwiches soon," Grandma said.
I dragged Lafayette out of the living room and out the side door so we were outside. I leaned against the house. "What are you doing here?" I asked.
YOU ARE READING
The Boss & The Assistant - Rewritten Edition of "The Boss"
Storie d'amoreIn 2013 I published my final chapter of "The Boss," a story about Emerson Lane and his boss, Lafayette Jeff. With over two million reads, this story easily became my most popular work yet. From the lovably goofy Emerson to the stoic and handsome Laf...