She was crying tears of sadness for the lost opportunities that Rishi may have had in life, but she was also weeping tears of joy that it wasn’t one of her children who was lying in that coffin.
“I don’t understand,” said Sean to G. “One moment the lad’s recovering from a bit of a brawl, and the next he’s lying in state, about to go to his Maker. I mean, if there’s any fairness in life, surely he was at the end of the queue when the Lord Almighty was dealing out favors.”
Sean had come from a working-class background and had been brought up on the wrong side of the tracks in Cork. He was number seven in a good Catholic family of nine siblings, although not all had survived. They were a close-knit, loving family who never had any money left at the end of the week, so Sean was used to having to fight for his very survival from an early age. But even with this tough-guy background, Rishi’s senseless death hit him hard.
“G, it’s just not right that the poor fooker got bashed like that, and then that he’s, well . . . you know, dead.”
Sean was showing a compassionate side that G rarely saw, and it was obvious he was clearly touched by the funeral. The two of them were the closest of buddies on the water, but other than sailing together, they rarely socialized unless the girls organized a get-together, which strangely was probably what kept their friendship so interesting and alive.
But today was different. Instead, Sean and G had been brought together by the tragedy of Rishi’s death and their conversation took a different path.
They were standing outside the chapel, watching but not really seeing the other mourners slowly emerge in small groups through the doors, sour and sad, not a smile among them, talking in hushed tones as if they were worried the Lord himself was listening in on their conversations. Sean had lowered his principles and gave in to his past smoking addiction,”borrowing” a cig from another mourner while he was shooting the shit with G.
G and Sean were off to one side, halfway up the rose garden walk that seemed mandatory at every funeral parlor. G was looking back at the slowly building crowd through the blue-gray smoke of Sean’s cigarette, watching it rise and twist toward the heavens, painting ethereal pictures on its journey.
“Sean, you know how you were thinking about tipping some money into Rishi’s rehab?” said G. “Well, don’t lose that dream, mate. Think about using Rishi’s demise to find an alternative opportunity to help someone else in a time of need.”
G was his usual sagacious self, offering his counsel even though it wasn’t asked for. To Sean, G was his leveler and his sounding board and he always welcomed G’s input, so he took no offense at his advice.
Mind you, Sean didn’t have to act on it. As G had once told him, ideas and suggestions are nothing but mental toys and mean bugger all until they’re put into action. But the more toys you have, the more likely you are to find the one that best fits the moment, so as far as Sean was concerned, bring it on.
“Think about it, Sean. You’d made the decision in your head to help with Rishi’s rehab. So don’t let that opportunity go to waste. After all, you’ve already spent it in your head, so don’t take it back. Not now. Make Rishi’s death a catalyst to assist someone else. Think of the karma. Big-time brownie points.”
G was getting all altruistic, but he also knew that Sean had deeply hidden finer sentiments and that he could handle a not-so-subtle shove in the right direction.
Sean took a deep draw on his cigarette, then throwing the butt in the smoker’s bin in disgust, replied, “You know, I hadn’t thought about that option. As Bec would say in her touchy-feely alternative way, it sort of would be like finding some good out of something bad.”
“Well, it’s just a suggestion, old friend. I realize you’ve got a few business issues at present that’re putting restrictions on your cash flow, but regardless, if you guys have already budgeted for the expense, don’t waste the opportunity to put something back into this world and help out someone who’s less fortunate than you.”
“Divya, Arnav, I’m Paul Jones and this is my wife Kaz. We’re Jason’s parents.”
Paul took in the emptiness behind their eyes. Drawn and shattered, it was as if the life force had been sucked out of them both and he realized that no matter how hard he tried, he could never begin to imagine what they must be going through.
They must be shattered . . . numb . . . in a state of total disbelief and no doubt denial, and wish that they would somehow wake up from this nightmare and all would be normal again, thought Paul.
My God, I wish there were some way I could heal their pain.
Rishi’s unexpected death had a profound effect on Paul, far greater than he would have expected. In a selfish way it actually made him think of his own mortality, stirring latent feelings of the fragility of tenure that we as humans hold over our short existence during our time on earth.
Paul really wanted to say, “I’m just so sorry that we’ve let you down,” but all that came out of his mouth was the standard response: “If there’s anything we can do to help, please, just let us know. Kaz and I both knew and loved your son. It’s such a tragedy.”
As he was walking away from Divya and Arnav, Paul felt that his words of condolence were trite and shallow. He left feeling unsettled that he wasn’t able to say what he really wanted, but the distressing nature of the event left him bereft of logical thought.
“Kaz, I can’t explain why, but Rishi’s death has really upset me.”
Paul paused, pouring himself a wine that was on the table for the guests at the wake to partake in.
“You want one?”
“Paul, it’s only eleven thirty. A bit early for a drink. Why don’t you have a cup of tea instead?”
“Maybe, but it’s been a stressful hour and a half. I need something with a kick.”
Kaz just didn’t seem to tune in to what he was trying to say. Instead, she was more concerned with looking in her compact mirror and touching up her makeup.
Paul looked at his wife and wondered how she could be so narcissistic at a time like this, but he continued on regardless. “It’s like today opened the floodgates to emotions that I forgot existed. Can’t you see that? Don’t you feel it too, or am I on my own here?”
“Look Paul, I feel sorry for Divya and Arnav, they must be beside themselves. But we hardly knew the kid . . .”
“That’s it, Kaz. It’s all about what you just said—‘the kid.’ That’s all he was. And his life was taken away from him by a senseless beating when he had the world in front of him.”
“Yes, of course it was. But there’s nothing we could have done to prevent it, so get over it.”
“No Kaz, you don’t understand, do you? What I’m trying to say is that this makes our business problems pale in significance. There’s got to be more to life than purely striving to earn a dollar. Either of us could be dead tomorrow, for that matter. Think about it.”
Kaz was at a bit of a loss as to what to say. Of course Paul was right, she realized, but so what? Nothing was going to happen to them . . . apart from possibly losing their livelihood, which would be like a death in itself.
“Paul, get a grip,” said Kaz. “We’ve got more than enough problems of our own to also take the weight of the world on our shoulders as well.”
“You still don’t get it, do you? You know, the whole fragility of life thing. As G said just before when I was speaking to him outside the chapel, money isn’t the prime asset in life, time is.”
“Oh, screw G and his homilies. I’m over hearing them. It’s our life and our business, not his.”
“No Kaz, Rishi’s death has suddenly made me realize how true this is.”
Paul looked at his wife, expecting an answer but instead he received nothing. Kaz just shrugged her shoulders in an almost offhanded way, so Paul gave up trying to get his point across.
For the moment at least.
“Let’s mingle.”
Cait looked up at the foreboding sky through her dark sunglasses and t
hought to herself how fitting it was that the day was overcast and gloomy. It was even drizzling.
Perfect.
“God’s crying too,” she said to herself, holding her hand out horizontally to catch the sprinkling rain in her palm.
“Tears from heaven,” she said sadly.
Cait looked up and noticed a tiny patch of blue that the wind had exposed behind the heavy gray clouds, otherwise it was a totally nondescript sky that perfectly matched the way she felt: empty, gray, emotionless. She was almost over shedding any more tears. Her grief was far deeper than that. As the coffin—Rishi—was being lowered into the ground by the solemn pallbearers she felt a part of herself being torn from her body and sinking into that dark hole with him.
“Goodbye my love,” Cait hoarsely whispered, gently kissing the red long-stemmed rose she was holding that she had just plucked from the top of his coffin. She held it over his grave and watched it fall and land on his shiny casket.
“Take this with you to the other side. I’ll meet you in eternity one day.” A lonesome tear rolled down her cheek and onto the ground at her feet.
Kneeling down, Cait picked up a handful of damp soil that had been piled to the side of the grave and let it run through her fingers and spread around her rose, as if to fertilize it on its journey to heaven.
The sun broke through and its healing warmth burned into her back, but Cait wished it away. She wanted the weather to remain wet and miserable to complement this depressing day.
Cait was huddled in a corner with Dec, Jason, and Justin on the front veranda of Divya and Arnav’s house in Mount Waverley so that Jason could have a cigarette. They were all silent and shell-shocked, watching the mourners arrive at Rishi’s wake as if they had been called to worship by a higher being.
Reflections of time spent with Rishi were on each other’s collective minds as they all mulled over the events of the day. Cait felt detached from the three of them, as if she was half in this world and half in another, reading their thoughts as flashes of what her friends were thinking bounced around inside her head like a ping-pong ball on a string, mixing with her own private thoughts. Cait realized that she was grieving, yes, but so were the others. They had all been touched by Rishi’s unexpected passing.
“Don’t you think that all those black umbrellas that everyone is putting up as they walk from their cars to here look like upside-down shadows?” Dec cut through the silence with a totally off-the-wall comment out of left field.
A cold, almost icy silence invaded the moment. How could you be so irreverent? Then, ever so slowly, the hint of a smile appeared on Justin’s face, which, as smiles have a habit of doing, became infectious. The next thing they knew they were all in fits of laughter, the tension and concern of the past few hours washing away as they finally succumbed to a moment of happiness.
“Where did that come from, Dec? You really pulled that one out of your arse,” said Justin to his best friend.
More laughter.
With that, the ice miraculously melted and conversation between them started flowing again.
“So I don’t fully understand this wake bit,” said Cait. “Aren’t we supposed to mourn Rishi and stuff like that? I mean, it doesn’t feel right laughing and having a good time.”
“Cait, I think you’re missing the point,” continued Dec in a caring, brotherly way. “Remember what Dad said about the Irish version of a wake. It’s not a time for commiseration and grieving. That sucks. It’s a time for celebration. Now we all know that Rishi’s Irish heritage is a bit suspect, but even so, there’s still no reason why we can’t celebrate his life.”
Suddenly there was silence among the four of them again, but this time it was a quietness that was generated out of respect. Even Dec didn’t know where his words of wisdom were coming from, as they belied his twenty-one years.
“So yes, Rishi’s dead, buried,” continued Dec, “and he was our friend and shit like that. But you—all of us actually—are lucky enough to have met him and been a small part of his life. So let’s give him a really good send-off. I’m sure he’s looking down on us now and that’s what he’d want us to do.”
Cait looked up at her brother and thought privately to herself through her sadness, You’ve just suddenly grown up, my younger brother. You’re becoming more like Dad every day. How poignant.
“Dec, I don’t know what to say. Just . . . ah, thanks so much for putting it like that. What you just said is so true,” said Cait, for the first time in her life slightly in awe of her little brother. “Yes, I’m going to celebrate Rishi’s life today—we all are!” she said with gusto.
“And remember the fun we had together, because I can see it now; that’s how his memory will live on. We’ll grieve for him tomorrow. Today we party.”
Cait was finally feeling positive for the first time in weeks.
“Now let’s go inside and give Rishi a good send-off.”
Bec was in her usual spot at a social gathering—even if today was a wake and not a party. As soon as she arrived at Divya and Arnav’s house and had gone through the formalities of the meet and greet, Bec made a beeline for the food, almost as fast as Sean searching out a drink to take the edge off the funeral. It had been a vexing experience saying goodbye forever to the young lad and her heart went out to Rishi’s family, especially Divya and Arnav. She knew how much their own little Rory meant to both Sean and herself, and being the caring worrywart that she was, Bec immediately took it all to heart. Just like a junkie, she now needed an instant fix to calm her down, so she loaded her plate up with as much comfort food as she could fit on it, working her way through the assorted cream cakes and sticky Indian pastries until her plate was piled high.
“So much for Jools’s diet,” she quietly muttered to herself as she squeezed on one last pastry. “Somehow carrot slivers and a bit of hummus won’t cut the mustard today. Sorry, Jools. I need sweet comfort food.”
Kaz looked at Bec’s plate and assumed she had brought back enough for both of them, and maybe Jools as well if she cared to join them, but in true Dickensian fashion Bec kept her plate of food to herself.
It was as if Bec was saying, “It’s mine. Get your own.”
Bec was one of those people who had to eat all day, twenty-four seven. She could never go without food for more than two or three hours at a time. In fact, Bec would start to go into panic mode if she wasn’t physically close to food, or at least near somewhere that sold it, just in case she needed a snack. And as for skipping meals, well that would be tantamount to psychological torture.
“I’m going to grab a tea. Do you want one?” asked Kaz.
“Lovely, thanks. You know how I have it. Milk with one sugar. And maybe a little biscuit if there’s anything nice,” replied Bec.
As Bec was scoffing her second pastry and about to tuck into her third she felt herself calming down, and as the sugar kicked in, so did the guilts. Feeling embarrassed at having so much food still piled high on her plate, Bec quickly looked around to check that no one was watching, and like a naughty child, surreptitiously slipped the rest of the pastries back onto the serving platter, hoping that no one had noticed.
While Bec was waiting for Kaz to come back with the tea, she settled into the room, feeling comfortable that she was simply an anonymous face hidden among a crowd of moving heads. Being unknown gave her a certain feeling of security because she didn’t have to worry about what people thought of her, and if she was doing the right thing. Instead, people were gathered around her in small groups talking in hushed tones about familiar topics, obviously to friends and family, not mixing, staying politely distanced from each other.
Kaz arrived back with their tea and noticed that Bec appeared to be off with the fairies.
“Hey, wake up Australia! Here’s your tea.”
“Have you actually listened to the vicar over there?” Bec said to Kaz, almost as if she was thinking out loud instead of actually making a statement.
“Sorry? What plan
et are you on darling? Earth to Mars, here’s your tea.” Bec had totally caught Kaz off guard, as she stood there still holding two cups of tea, wondering what in the world was going through Bec’s head now.
She really can be quite odd sometimes, thought Kaz. That girl needs to get a grip on reality!
“No, seriously. Have you noticed how the vicar’s one of those people who has that annoying habit of laughing at everything he says? Really, listen to him. He’s on the couch behind you.” Bec turned her head slightly, nodding in the vicar’s direction.
Kaz made an obvious gesture of passing Bec her tea, and as she did so glanced over in the vicar’s direction. Just at that moment he gave a slightly high-pitched cackle, sounding like a schoolboy who knew he’d done something wrong but had gotten away with it.
Kaz looked back at Bec. “So? Is this observation going to change our lives? I wish it was that simple.”
“Kaz, you’re just so insensitive!” replied Bec in a friendly but mocking tone. “I wonder if anyone has ever told him what he sounds like? I’m sure that he’d like to know.” Bec was always concerned for people and did her best at all times to help everyone, which unfortunately made her seem slightly weak and obsequious.
“Oh Bec, get a grip on life and start thinking of yourself more! You can’t fix all the woes of the world, so don’t even try. Leave that to someone else. God knows, there’s enough do-gooders in the world already. Instead, learn to look after number one.”
But Kaz’s advice didn’t rest well with Bec. She had more of a meek-shall-inherit-the-earth philosophy. Kaz’s nonchalant attitude to Rishi’s horrible death, and her absolute objection to them helping Rishi out at the recent board meeting had been playing on Bec’s mind, percolating in the background and it didn’t rest well with her. Bec had been looking for a way to bring it up again with Kaz in a nonconfrontational manner ever since, but somehow there never seemed to be the opportunity.
The Cait Lennox Box Set Page 23
