Houston was industrial and gray. We drove up high on the expressway. Below were endless buildings and strip malls. I could see downtown in the distance, the skyscrapers stark and cold against the white sky.
Tina had not liked it here, this I knew. We drove and drove, only the signs changing. The view was remarkably similar no matter how much time passed. It reminded me of LA. Perhaps all big cities seemed the same from above. Only when you got down at the people level could you see the beauty and uniqueness of it.
We exited finally and took a huge four-lane street across town. There were trees at least, and some green here and there. Then I spotted a cemetery and figured this was it. Sure enough, Tina turned into the gate and we parked in front of a large building.
A woman in a black dress got out of her car when we opened our doors. She came up to Tina and gave her a huge hug. I assumed this was her mother.
“My lamb,” she said. “Are you ready for this?”
Tina pulled away. “As ready as I can be.” She turned to me. “This is my friend Corabelle. She flew in from San Diego. Corabelle, this is Stella.”
I hid my surprise. “Nice to meet you. You run the loss group, right?”
Stella nodded. “I do.” She reached for my hand and clasped it. “You’re the one whose baby lived a few days, yes?”
I swallowed the sudden lump in my throat. So, Tina had mentioned me. “Yes, Finn lived for seven days.”
“Sweet little love. What a beautiful baby he must have been,” Stella said. I could see why people turned to her. She said only the comforting things. No platitudes or I’m sorry. Just affection and concern.
“He was,” I said.
Another car door closed, and we turned to another woman, gray-haired and clearly Tina’s mother. They carried themselves the same. She also wore all black, including a funny little pillbox hat that made her seem from another era.
“This is my mother, Marcella,” Tina said. “Mom, this is Corabelle, from San Diego. A friend of mine.”
“So good of you to come,” Marcella said. “It’s important for Tina to have friends here on a day like today.”
Tina turned toward the door of the funeral home. “I guess this is it,” she said. “We’re a little late due to my side trip to the airport, but it’ll be all right.”
I felt another twinge of guilt.
“Close enough,” Stella said.
We headed into the building, four serious women set on a very hard task. I wished I wasn’t in jeans. Sometimes in life you had to meet a situation as you were. And I was glad I could be here for Tina.
Chapter 21: Tina
The caretaker led us out to the baby graves. Another woman in a black suit followed our little group out.
I was tempted to ask the man about the beach-ball shrub, but recognized that this was just my mind trying to avoid the hard stuff in front of me. So, I didn’t.
The air was completely still, as if the world itself was holding its breath. A couple men in overalls were out among the headstones, waiting. As we grew closer, I could see they had covered the surrounding graves with green Astroturf carpets. A little mound of dirt protected by a tarp sat nearby.
The videos I’d watched didn’t really apply to this situation, as far as I could tell. There were always huge cranes that had to lift the casket out. But Peanut’s was so tiny. As we got closer, I could see the depth of the hole. Babies weren’t buried six feet down like adults, at least not here. As we approached the perfectly cut rectangle of dirt, I remembered now that my father and a friend of his had lowered the casket down.
My footsteps slowed, and even though I was behind him, the caretaker also dropped his pace. Sixth sense, I guessed. My mother clutched my hand. Stella and Corabelle walked next to us.
Despite my reluctance, we still arrived. We were quite close to the open grave before I could see the top of the bluish metal casket. It was slightly discolored, but the men had cleaned the top, so it gleamed in the sun.
I could picture myself, the last time I saw it, my arms screaming from the stitches in my wrists because I refused to take any pain medicine. I had wanted to feel it all, each line up my arm. My greatest fear then was to be numb to everything.
There was this huge black void then, and it loomed all around me. I was petrified of falling in.
Albert had taught me I was supposed to dance around the edges, laugh in its face. I still was afraid. I’ll try harder, I promised.
The caretaker motioned to the men. They both kneeled down and grasped the handles on either side of the casket.
Bits of mud dropped off the bottom as they lifted it and laid it on the green carpet next to the grave. The headstone had also been removed, resting on another carpet a few feet away.