What I used to be will pass away
And then you'll see
That all I want now is happiness
For you and me
1996
She calls Alex to tell her she’s met a boy.
“His name is Adrian.”
After the call, Alex tells me that her parents can’t stand him.
I like him immediately.
1994
On the way back from Cristina’s performance, the mountain skies open up, draining the little heat from our walk. We thrust our hands deep into our pockets. We switch places on the sidewalk, so that Alex walks a little lower. I bump her with my hip, knocking her into the street. She laughs.
“When are we going to tell her?”
“We should wait until after New Year’s.”
March 1999
After New Year’s, Cristina calls Alex. “He’s dying. We haven’t told him what the doctor said.”
We fly out in March, a week before our anniversary. I see Alex’s father, almost completely disappeared, like nothing below the sheets, just a face above. At the hospital, I tell him I’m about to go out for a beer.
“Drink easy,” he laughs.
I meet Adrian, and we drink anything but easy, the rest of the night. He asks me for advice. He tells me he wants to marry Cristina.
We toast.
I tell Alex and she rolls her eyes.
“What did you want me to do?”
* * *
… the first rite is the wake. The family calls the priest when death arrives. Alex and her mother light a candle. They close the blinds, cover the mirrors and the television, through which evil spirits might steal away the departed, but present soul.
It’s a time of conflict among families as traditions held guarded and sacred by the old fall into careless, younger hands. Adrian takes Cristina at 2 am in the morning to find a casket. They knock on a door by a cobblestoned street, and an old woman opens to find a grieving daughter. They buy the coffin. Back home the family is horrified to see it’s not respectful enough for their father. They return with the coffin, to buy another. The admonishment of ‘Royal Oak!’ ringing in their ears.
November 1999
Cristina returned after the funeral to live with us in America. A month before her return, she meets a boy.
I like him immediately.
He tells me he wants to marry her.
We toast.
2000
Alex receives a phone call in the evening. I hear gasps and laughter, pity and admonishment. After the call, Alex tells me that her sister and the new boy bumped into Adrian.
“And?”
“And he said hello. And then they said goodbye.”
“Poor guy.” I slap her extra hard on the ass as she walks by to hang up the phone.
“Hey! What do you want me to do?”
2003
I look at Alex as we climb the steps into the Old Town. The weather has turned cold, we put our hands deep into our pockets, we switch places on the sidewalk so that I walk on the higher part. I bump her hip, knocking her into the street; she laughs.
“Isn’t that Adrian?” I ask, but he’s already upon us. He’s smiling and we shake hands. We ask him how he’s doing; he tells us he heard we were in town; he offers condolences for Alex’s grandmother.
“How is your sister?” he asks Alex, and she tells him she’s working as a teacher.
“Poor guy,” I say, bumping Alex hard enough in the hip that she punches me in the shoulder.
“Hey! What do you want me to do?”
Last Night
After the third day, the same as Jesus lay entombed, the body is taken from the home. The priest gives a blessing, while the people in the neighborhood watch and listen. Then, the casket is closed for the final time, and taken to the cemetery. At the cemetery, a woman known as a bocitoare wails for the mourning.
“That’s intense.”
I look back at older photos, noticing a small bundle of fur in one shot. Bianca, their shi-tzu. “Do dogs get the same treatment?”
“No.”
“What do you do with your dogs when they die?”
“We put them in the trash.”
“What?”
“Unless you have the means to bury them. Cristina buried Bianca.”
“Really? Where?”
Alex raises her eyes guiltily at me, “In Adrian’s yard.”
“NO WAY! That poor guy’s got the love of his life’s dog buried in his yard? That’s worse than her name tattooed on his arm!” I throw the photo album at Alex.
“What do you want me to do?”