A Present from Daddy
Barry Aitchison
“Mummy, why did God make sad?”
The question burrowed into Miriam like a woodworm. She couldn’t reply. Not
now. She knew that if she did, it would be the end of her. As it was, she
was held together fragilely, as if by wet tissue and prayer. She squeezed
Preston’s hand and felt his return pressure.
The grave had been tended, but not recently. Moss grew on the back and a
bold seedling had thrust up from the crack in the marble top. Miriam
stooped and pulled the plant out by the roots. She immediately regretted
it.
What if it was Carlton trying to metamorphose out of there? Of course the
notion was stupid and worse, it triggered the very thing she had been
trying
to contain.
She looked around. The cemetery was all but deserted. The next row over
she
could see the balding head of an older man tending a grave, but he was a
way
off .
“Now, you’re sad, Mummy,” said Preston, snuggling in to give his warmth
and
affection. “Is Daddy still in there or has he gone to Heaven?”
She tugged a handkerchief from her sleeve to dab at her nose. “Daddy’s in
Heaven, darling, but his body is inside his grave.“
“But, Mummy, won’t he need his body? What if he wants to go shopping?”
She smiled through the tears. “I don’t think they have shops in Heaven,
Preston. God provides everything you could ever want.”
“Even a PlayStation?”
“Perhaps.”
“And the best games.”
“Undoubtedly.”
“God must be very rich. We’re not rich, are we Mummy?”
Miriam stood and brushed dust from her skirt. Bending, she ran her
fingers
over the letters of his name, “Private Carlton Sterling”.
“Carlton,” she whispered, “you left me in one hell of a mess down here.
Remember how I begged you not to go? But you went anyway. You said it
would
be okay. This is not okay, Carlton.”
“What are you saying, Mummy?”
Miriam sniffed, wiped her nose with a tissue then stood up straight. “I
was
just having a word to your father,” she said.
“You mean we can talk to him?”
“Sure,” she said, “he won’t answer you, not in words, but I believe he can
hear us.”
“What did you say to Daddy?”
Miriam bit on her lip. “I wanted Daddy to know how I feel.”
“Can I talk to him?”
“Sure you can. I know he misses you. You were his best friend.”
Miriam strolled down the line of memorials so she could not hear Preston’s
words. Whatever they were would bring back the tears and she couldn’t
afford
tears.
Two rows over, Samuel Caulfield sat on the edge of his wife’s marble
grave,
his fingers on his hearing aid. After a few minutes, he took the aid out
and
adjusted the sensitivity. Dropping the hearing aid into a pocket, he
pressed 1 on the cell phone.
“It’s me, Clifton, I’m still up here. It’s warm sitting next to Christina.
Look, I’ll be out in ten minutes or so, but I just had another one of my
nutty ideas. There’s a woman and a small boy coming out to the car park.
That PlayStation for young Gerald on the back seat? I never liked that
brat
very much. He’s spoilt and he won’t appreciate it. Look, when those two
come
out, give the PlayStation to the boy. Say, it’s from… Say it’s from his
dad.”
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