Spring Won't Come

Ten: Manny

The stained oak pews were harsh and unaccommodating, as if the designer had deliberately wanted people to feel uncomfortable in the house of God. Those that sat in them needed desperately to fight the urge to wiggle and adjust the way they sat, lest the wood creak a groan and let the entire sanctuary know that they were moving.

The brown blades of the ceiling fans swung silently in the air in a feeble attempt to cool the room on an unusually warm day. Some in attendance dabbed at their sweat-glistened faces with a handkerchief while others, overwhelmed with grief, were totally oblivious to the heat.

Manny could ignore the painful seats and the stuffy air, he could even ignore the overbearing discomfort of being in a church for the first time. What he couldn't ignore was the raw emotion in Moses Washington's voice as he spoke from the pulpit.

"There is a lot to say about my son, and I find that words cannot do justice to the love I have for him, or the love he had for life" Reverend Washington cleared his throat and gritted his teeth. Tears flowed silently from the corners of his reddened eyes and down the sides of his cheeks. "I am so grateful that so many friends and family have gathered here today to help me honor his memory."

Manny felt numb, like he was in a dream, watching himself go through some hellish nightmare thought up by the Devil himself. He could hear Isaiah's dad give the eulogy, he just couldn't believe that the words were real, that this right now was real.

He hated wearing this fucking tie, he hated sitting in this fucking church, and he hated that his best friend was fucking dead. IT. WAS. ALL. FUCKING. BULLSHIT.

It's not fair, a voice whimpered within.

When Isaiah hadn't shown up to school, Manny had been worried. It wasn't like Isaiah to skip, and even if he did, he would have given Manny a heads up. So Manny had gone to Isaiah's house after school.

Esther had answered the door. She peered out shyly from behind the wood, dressed in her pink dress, her hair in braids. Manny had recognized the look on her face right away, a look of sadness that no one so young should be capable of expressing. It was a feeling he had become accustomed to as a child, though it looked so wrong on anyone else.

"Hi, Esther," Manny said. "Is Isaiah home?"

The little girl flung the door open and raced to embrace Manny in her tiny arms. He stumbled back as she slammed into him, her face nuzzled in his stomach, muffling her sobs.

Mrs.Washington came to the door to collect her daughter. She took the girl by the hand and invited Manny to come inside. When that door closed behind Manny, it was like the ending of a chapter of his life. Or maybe it was just the beginning of the end, he wasn't sure which was worse.

Reverend Washington was waiting inside the darkened apartment. He took Manny into his office and told him that there had been a terrible accident. Isaiah had fallen from the fire escape. He was dead.

Manny watched the gaudy gold pendulum swing inside the grandfather clock that flanked Reverend Washington's desk. The clock was an antique, brought back from France by one of the Washington ancestors during the Great War.

The pendulum was embossed with a hand-painted theme of harvest: sheaves of wheat, clusters of grapes, bouquets of flowers. There was a scythe in the middle. Scythes meant death, Manny knew. He wondered if he could hypnotize himself with the clock to erase this day from memory? He didn't want to think about death right now.

With great pain and effort, Moses Washington told Manny about how one of the neighbor kids had found Isaiah, or at least, had found his broken body. The police were called, they did a rushed investigation, and then Isaiah was sent to Coffey's Funeral Home.