There was one funeral home in all of Cobalt called the Grinsky Family Funeral Home. It was in the downtown area-the downtrodden strip we’d driven past yesterday, with the Mister Donut and the murky river and the Knights of Columbus-in a house that looked similar to my grandmother’s. In other words, it was an actual home, with a driveway, a porch, an upstairs, and a rotting wooden hatch that led to outdoor basement stairs. I made the mistake of asking Pete what happened in the basement. He said, in a spooky voice, ‘That’s where they prepare the bodies.’
The home was done up in rose-patterned carpet, heavy, dark-green drapes, and bulky, imposing couches. We all went in very slowly. My father and Steven wore jackets and ties, and Stella had on a teal dress made of featherweight silk. Her orange cat-eye glasses clashed. I wore a corduroy black skirt from the winter and a sleeveless black shirt. Samantha hadn’t changed out of her dingy jeans.
An older man with a hooked nose, bug-like eyes and a jowly face greeted us. He could have been a new puppet on Sesame Street-some reptilian character, perhaps a lizard. ‘You might not remember me,’ he mumbled to my father. ‘I’m Leon Grinsky. I went to church with your mother.’
‘Of course, of course,’ my father said. He pointed to us. ‘This is Summer. And this is Steven. My kids.’
‘Lovely.’ Lizard’s smiles were more disturbing than his frowns. ‘And your wife? Your mother said you were married…’
My father looked down. ‘I’m…we’re separated.’
I felt like he’d punched me. I tried to catch Steven’s eye, but he was checking out an empty urn. The front door was still wide open, and a snub-nosed little kid circled the sidewalk on a bike. A water gun dangled from his right hand. When he passed again, he turned his head, took his remaining hand off the handlebars and gave me what I guessed were devil horns. ‘Naaaah,’ he said to all of us, pointing to the doorway. ‘Naaah.’ He waved the gun threateningly.
Grinsky the Lizard led my father and brother through a long hallway to a room at the end filled with more overstuffed chairs, little end tables, a mantel with a painting of pastel roses in a basket. The coffin was at the end of the room. And all the flowers. Luckily, the rest of my family had lined up down the casket, so I couldn’t immediately see my grandmother’s body.
I noticed Lizard lurking in the doorway. Stella twisted around from the casket and raised an eyebrow. She retreated toward me, the ends of her dress floating behind her.
‘Do you want to come up?’ she asked.
‘I don’t know.’ I twisted away. ‘It’s weird.’
She petted my arm. ‘Honey.’
I peeked at Lizard, then curled farther into her. ‘That guy won’t stop looking at me.’
Stella glanced at Lizard, too. ‘Oh, he’s hideous, isn’t he? C’mon. Let’s go outside. I could use a smoke, anyway.’
Out on the porch, I felt my head fill with blood again. Stella sat down on the glider and patted the seat next to her. We tried to swing, but the old glider was too rusty. Stella hummed when she took a cigarette out of her leopard-print case.
Separated. We’re separated.
It had been a year and a half and I’d never said it out loud that my parents were separated. I’d never heard my father say it, either. But maybe he had. Why, after all, would he decide to tell the funeral director first?
‘That Grinsky put on Ruth’s makeup,’ Stella interrupted my thoughts. ‘It makes her look like a hooker. Then again, in some ways, it’s nice to see her with makeup on at all.’ She took a drag. ‘She never wore makeup. Never any sparkle. Same with her clothes, and definitely the same with her hair. When I was working at the salon, I told Ruth that Samuel-he was the hairdresser-would style her hair for free. And she refused! Said she was happy with her look! Slammed the door on me and everything, like I’d just insulted her!’
I rubbed my ankles together. After the Trade Center bomb, a counselor came to our school. I was curious, so I made an appointment. The secretary at the front desk gave me a form in a sealed envelope for my parents-I peeked at it; it asked a lot of questions about my mental health. ‘We need this signed by both parents,’ the secretary explained.