Chapter 99: You Can Cry When You’re Sad
Keith was about to step out with Cathryn when Victoria got up and pulled him. He turned back and went to the corner of the room to hear Victoria's whispering urges.
"Please have a good sleep with the aunts and uncles, ma'am. It will be a long day tomorrow for the funeral, you will need your strength. Don't worry about Cathryn, I will take care of her," He nodded and answered.
She was a bit stunned by Keith's call, her throat clogged. She replied with a single nod and returned to the room, reaching her arms to her three younger siblings.
Except for the sound of wind from the burning candles and incense, the entire mourning room stayed silent like it was hell itself.
Cathryn sat on a cushion, again, holding the candles and staring in blankness. When the candle was finished, Keith gave her another and simply watched her burn it.
The jumping flame reflected on her pale face and turned orange. Cathryn sat for a while, stood up, and staggered to the coffin.
It wasn't covered, and Grandma's face was shielded with a large yellow piece of paper. Cathryn was not afraid. She took the paper up, glanced at her, and put it down as if she wanted to remember her face.
Seeing that she finally moved, Keith went to the table and poured a glass of water for her, putting a vitamin effervescent tablet in. When the bubbles were gone, he handed the glass to Cathryn.
"Drink."
Keith did not use a tone of negotiation and put the glass in her hand. Cathryn looked up at him and drank it all at once without a word.
Returning to the mat, she put the glass aside and started another candle. Behind her, Keith put down his glass, took a mat and sat beside her, and held her into his arms.
"You've had your water, and tears should come out now. It's ok, you can cry when you're sad."
He held her like she was a small animal. All her weight leaned on his chest, she felt rested and sank.
"She's going to be buried soon. I want to be happy with her for the last night," She said calmly, his eyes staring at the flame.
"I killed my grandfather," She continued later. "Before he died, I promised him I would at least take good care of Grandma and make sure she lived to a hundred. But she is only seventy-five this year and left to see him. I don't think he will be happy with me when he receives her."
Keith did not respond. He pushed a little, and Cathryn was lifted from the cushion and was put transversely between his crossed legs. Cathryn's head leaned against his shoulder, and she could look up to see his eyes rippled like the ocean.
He was not sitting high, his tall figure was uncomfortably curled up on this small cushion. He held her like a child, and when he adjusted himself, knowing that she was staring, Keith shook Cathryn Riley's body and said, "Sleep, bunny."
Cathryn shook suddenly, she groaned from her throat, and her lips trembled.
There was liquid filling her eyes and flowing altogether, she murmured in a sullen voice, and her tears burst out.
She cried so hard and so badly that she couldn't tell if she was screaming or crying. The voice echoed in the hall, giving it a sense of horror.
Victoria heard it as soon as she burst out and rushed out from the next room. She saw her daughter twisted in misery, with Keith holding her comfort, and her tears fell again.
"Bunny" was what her grandfather used to call her. After his death, no one had ever called her that again.
When she was little, she used to lie on the bench under the grapevine, and her grandfather would call her "bunny," fan her and tell her stories. Every time when she fell asleep, he always said, "Sleep, bunny."
Cathryn cried like it was the end of the world, like the gruesome darkness had taken the last piece of hope, like a savage going wild. Her insides seemed to curl up and shrivel out of life.
Adults cry in silence. Usually, only children cry with no discretion. But Cathryn allowed herself to be a child tonight.
She was thinking that perhaps she couldn't have cried in the mourning hall because she felt guilty for failing Grandpa. If she did not insist on going out fifteen years ago, perhaps her grandfather would be still alive, and Grandma would be well-tended, and they would be living happily together and well.
For fifteen years, how did Grandma live through fifteen years without her beloved husband?
No one can remember all the details of things fifteen years ago unless this thing is really significant.
Cathryn's current disposition is a far cry from her childhood. When she was a girl of ten, she was a stubborn, willful little tiger. It was also this stubborn little tiger in her that left her the regret of her life.
In Cathryn's childhood impression, Grandpa was more than willing to satisfy her needs than Grandma was. It was one of the hottest summer days, and even in the north, it was muggy and dull.
Her parents were on a visiting trip to some other school over the weekend, and Cathryn was sent to her grandparents'. As a kid, she was especially unbearable to heat and was turning over and over during nap time. The fan overhead was equal to nothing except for some old squeaky sound, which could not bring a trace of coolness.
Her best friend and cousin Stella were not there, nor was there any kid to play with.
Cathryn began to throw tantrums and would not sleep unless she could get a Popsicle. Grandpa agreed and walked her out to the nearest convenience store.
It wasn't a crowded neighborhood, so the store was set at the end of the block neighboring the next community. The day was hot, the sun was piercing above their heads, and it was an early afternoon. There was no one on the street except for the cicadas moaning in the heat.