A Perfect Mistake, page 9
Cam
I sat in the large holding room at the funeral home. The furniture, walls, and floor came in different neutral tones, comforting yet somber. Couches and chairs lined the walls, able to accommodate a large or small family. In addition to my black suit and tie, I wore a black yarmulke on my head. Mouths moved all around me. Hands remained stationary, clutched items, or moved in non-language motions. My parents chatted with one of my aunts. My two brothers chatted with their wives, their children running around the small space; my four cousins and their spouses were in small groups talking, along with their children. I was the only one sitting, the only one mourning.
The crowd was a revolving door as other family and friends stopped by to pay their respects. I received a sad smile, nothing else. The two interpreters I’d arranged for the funeral stood in a corner, all but not needed as my family continued to ignore me. In the past I had my grandmother at family events, before that both my grandparents. Now I was the only Deaf member.
I had a sudden stab of guilt for all the family events I missed due to work. Events I knew someone had arranged to pick up Grandma. I’d left her alone in this mess. Now I’d be alone for the rest. At least the punishment fit the crime. To think I’d been absent due to my career, due to trying my damnedest to make something out of myself. To prove to some of the people in this room that I could. I hadn’t meant to hurt anyone, at least not Grandma. I scrubbed a hand down my face. It had been worth it, hadn’t it? Or did life intend on throwing more bricks on the house I so carefully built?
Black peep-toe shoes entered my line of vision, forcing me to scan up a long pair of legs to a short black dress, and up to Sarah’s face. If this had been Nica, the view would be cock hardening. But on Sarah it left me cold.
Her ruby painted lips quirked, but she may as well have been a ventriloquist act. In fact, I’d often wondered why she hadn’t pursued that as a career. I shook my head and turned to my interpreters, finding Maria already joining us. Once we made eye contact she signed Sarah’s words. “Where’s your girlfriend?”
Crap. Not the place I wanted to be discussing my personal life. Or whatever fabrication of it I needed to get Sarah off my back. “She’s at work, she’ll join later.” Maria knew my communication style and didn’t flinch at my verbal response.
Sarah eyed Maria with a heavy dose of distain, and I resisted the urge to glance up towards the heavens. The funeral of a Deaf person should not be a place to question appropriate communication access. But I blamed my mother on that one. Sarah’s lips twitched, eyes still on Maria. I caught Maria explaining for her to face me. “Then it’s not that serious.”
Tiredness seeped into my bones—and the day had barely begun. I gave Maria a nod and raised my hands, time for a little show and tell. “It’s serious enough. And I prefer to date people who know ASL.”
Again, she watched Maria, as though she had her own hearing loss. She flipped her hair over her shoulder and walked away. Maria signed her parting shot. “Discriminate much?”
I rubbed my temple. “She has no idea what discrimination really means.”
Maria smiled, keeping herself professional and neutral. I thanked her and she returned to her corner. Not two minutes later the couch shifted and Dan, my oldest brother, sat next to me. “Rumor has it you’re dating someone.” Dan had the same brown hair as me, though graying around the temples. With twelve years between us, he was more of a parent figure than brother.
I took in the tease in my brother’s eyes. “What did Grandma tell you?”
“So it’s true? You and the social worker?”
Only my grandmother could cause problems at her own funeral. Doubly so, because I didn’t know exactly what to call Nica and my relationship. “Sorta.”
Dan slapped me on the back. “Finally getting some romance in now that you’re thirty. Maybe by forty you’ll settle down.”
I had no intention of giving someone that much control over me, but now wasn’t the place. Though I had to admit, Nica made the prospect worth exploring.
Dan shot his eyebrows up twice and moved away, his motion for “I’m getting your ass in trouble.” I nearly groaned.
Dan closed in on our mother and faced me as he spoke. “Hey Ma, Cam’s finally dating someone.”
I wasn’t up for this. Lip-reading about my personal life was never a fun activity. My second interpreter moved, ready to assist in the communication, but I caught her eye and shook my head. In the interest of family harmony for the next few days I had to handle this alone.
My mother stood in front of me. She brushed back my hair as though I was an incompetent child. “Cameron, why… said anything?” After a lifetime of communicating with her it was still a guessing game. I focused on her lips and did my best to put the pieces of the puzzle together.
Because you never listen, and the woman that raised me was dying. “I told you about her last week.” I fisted my hands by my side to keep them from signing.
Mom slapped Dan’s arm, mouth flapping while she faced her hearing son.
Dan stepped behind her when she turned her head and interpreted. “A week: that means nothing in guy language.” Then he stepped forward. “It does in Cam language.” Unlike our mother, Dan knew how to speak to me and be understood. The subtle ASL shifts to his hands helped.
“… calling… brother a girl?”
I dropped my head into my hands and welcomed the momentary silence. I really wasn’t up for this today.
Dan kicked my foot and forced me to raise my head. “Look at him, Ma, he looks like Ben when he brought Zoey home.”
“Ben always looks… it doesn’t mean…”
Regardless of anything, Nica had carved out a spot for herself in my life. I didn’t know what that meant, beyond “It means something.”
“… brush… Sarah.”
“I never asked for or agreed to that date.” What I said next would make things worse all around, but I needed to say it. “I can find my own dates.” I can take care of myself.
Our eyes locked. She broke contact first. She always did. “… she coming… support you…?”
I nodded, even though I knew it wasn’t just about me, it was also about Grandma.
They left me alone after that, back to staring at the black screen on my phone, until the couch shifted again. I glanced up at Grant in his one and only suit, a gray one. Matt and Ashley stood nearby dressed in black.
Grant crossed his arms and checked out the surroundings. He turned back to me. “You OK?”
I shook my head.
Ashley sat down on my other side and wrapped an arm around me. “I’m sorry.”
Grant thumbed towards my mother. “She behaving?”
I found Mom laughing in a carefree manner with a family friend. “So far.”
One of the interpreters waved for my attention. She stood next to the Rabbi and interpreted. The Rabbi asked for friends and extended family to leave. Grant patted my knee as he stood up, Ashley squeezed my shoulder, and Matt remained silent as the three of them left.
Once they were gone the Rabbi addressed the group. My father and two aunts, Grandma’s children, were given black ribbons, placed on their clothing near their heart. They were the only immediate family of Grandma’s still alive; she had outlived everyone else. The Rabbi recited a prayer as he tore the ribbons up the center, a symbolic act of tradition, indicating the torn heart from losing a loved one. My own heart ached at the process. Grandchildren didn’t receive ribbons, even though this woman raised me. My father remained emotionless. My two aunts fought back tears, only one succeeding. The rest of the family was finally somber. One cousin crouched down low, talking to one of the younger great-grandchildren.
I hoped I would find some peace in the process, rather than the dread. The final pages in my grandmother’s life were being written and sealed. Only the family left behind. I glanced around the room, wondering if we would all be together again. Perhaps just for big events. Though with me being the only single member, there was little in the way of weddings until the next generation became older, only a few Bar and Bat Mitzvahs for the younger children. I scanned the aging generation. And funerals.
*****
Nica
I had five folders on my desk and had written up two visits in the early quiet of the office. My dark suit had me overdressed for the casual office environment, and I shifted uncomfortably in the confining material. I ignored all sounds around me, concentrating on getting as much done as possible. A hand over mine stopped me.
“Relax, Nica, what’s gotten into you?”
I glanced up to see Rebecca leaning over my desk. She studied me, and a frown formed on her face. She dragged a chair over.
“You’ve been acting off all week, what gives?”
Heat settled in my cheeks and my pulse flicked at my veins until they resembled a guitar in use. “Remember that guy?”
“You saw him again?” she whispered.
I closed my eyes against the view of my client listing. “Yes.”
Rebecca clutched my chin and made me face her. “Why are you acting like a kid who got their hand stuck in a cookie jar?”
My heart had to be beating loud enough for her to hear. I glanced around, but our pod was empty. Still, I kept my voice low. “I bumped into him at Hospice.” While Rebecca’s eyes went wide I quickly updated her on the whole mess. When I finished she remained quiet, not even moving. “Say something,” I whimpered.
“How’s your client?”
I smoothed down my skirt. “Cassie passed away.”
Rebecca checked me out from head to toe. “You’re going to the funeral.”
I didn’t nod, it wasn’t needed.
Rebecca leaned back and sighed. “Of course you are. The real question is who are you going for?”
I focused on the folder open on my desk, and the one under it. Yes. I wanted to pay my respects to Cassie, as I’d often done for clients near and dear to me. But even Rebecca knew Cassie wasn’t the main reason. I rubbed my temples. “I know, it’s bad.”
“That’s putting it mildly.”
“But what would you do?”
Rebecca raised her eyebrows. Of course, not see Cam again. A fact getting harder and harder to follow. She straightened up, but her eyes were on me, reminding me this was my friend beyond coworker. “You really do care for him, don’t you?”
More than I had any right to. “If I didn’t, I wouldn’t be in this mess.”
“Then go, but perhaps go as Cassie’s case manager, not, whatever you are with Cam.”
“Friends. Only friends. And thanks.”
Rebecca moved back to her desk, but I didn’t miss her slight head shake that doubted my proclamation. I knew Cassie would hurt more than Vinny, but I didn’t expect it to hurt this much. It was like losing my own grandmother, which was exactly what Cassie wanted. The old woman should have had a career in matchmaking.
I continued plowing through my work. I was down to my last file when a phone call about a missing homemaker delayed me. Once the worker was located I raced out and made it over to the funeral home. By the time I arrived everyone was already inside. I snuck in the back, half listening to the Rabbi speaking. I quickly found Cam sitting up front, eyes trained on the interpreter, shoulders slouched forward. My heart ached. I wanted to go to him but knew that wasn’t a good idea. Instead I went to take a seat in the back. A waving hand caught my attention.
June sat with a group of Deaf elders, also watching the interpreter. I slid in next to her.
“So sad, poor Cassie,” June signed.
I wrapped my arm around her. “Nice that you are all here,” I said.
“Same.”
I turned and found Cam again. He glanced my way and caught my eyes. A half smile formed for a second before fading. He sat separated from everyone else. All others were at least a couple, with several kids babbling around parents desperate to keep them quiet. The group was almost lively. Cam wasn’t. My heart constricted further.
June poked me. “C.T. is cute.”
I held in a laugh, too emotionally distraught to think about what I should, or shouldn’t, be signing. “Are you taking over Cassie’s matchmaking?”
June smiled. “I saw that look.”
“What look?”
June ignored me and turned back to the interpreter, and I wondered how much Cassie had to do with that exchange.
*****
Cam
The September breeze swept a lone leaf across the cemetery, providing a break from the sun that was a tad too hot for suits. My grandmother’s casket lay low in the deep ground in front of me. I held the thin, folded paper in my hands. Flipped to the back, the Mourner’s Kaddish was face up. The words meant to offer comfort to the suffering. Half Hebrew, half English filled the page. I knew how to vocalize the words, and would be expected to do so. I didn’t want to. The words were meant to be spoken softly in unison, a skill I didn’t have much control over. What I wanted was to sign the words, in my language, in my grandmother’s language. Or not have them spoken or signed at all. I dreaded having to make this any more real than my grandmother already lying in the dirt.
A hand rested on my shoulder. I wished it was Nica but accepted the comfort from Dan as the Kaddish began. I stood still, watching the interpreter but said nothing. Signed nothing. Instead I found some peace in watching the signs, in the ASL interpretation of Hebrew words no one there could understand.
My father was the first to shovel dirt onto the casket. I turned away, unable to watch his emotionless face. My aunts followed, the dirt and some stones sliding off the shovel and disappearing down the large hole. Family continued the tradition, making a dent in the large dirt pile. My vision blurred as I took my turn, hating the sense of finality the act brought.
People returned to their cars and prepared to head to my aunt’s house as the last few people moved the dirt. Soft fingers enfolded my bicep. From touch alone I knew it was Nica. She squeezed before taking her turn with the shovel. When finished, Nica wrapped her arms around me. I settled into her embrace, fighting a losing battle with my tears, as her soft hair blanketed my face.
When I shifted back, she brushed my cheeks dry. “I didn’t think you were Jewish?” I asked at her unusual level of knowledge of a Jewish funeral.
“I’m not, my father is. Mom raised me. I have to return to work.”
I squeezed her hand, not giving a damn what anyone else thought, not when the only comfort I had truly felt had been this moment right here. “Can you join me later?”
Nica hesitated, but when she looked at me, really looked at me, all hesitation faded. “Sure.”
I nodded and released her hand, making my way back to my family. Nica paused by some of my grandmother’s friends, giving them all hugs as they chatted lively with her. I caught June eyeing me and then Nica carefully. I hoped the next generation of matchmaking would at least be kind.
*****
Nica
It was after six in the evening by the time I made it to Cam’s aunt’s house for Shiva. I liked the ritual—after the funeral, family and friends stop by the house of one of the mourning to pay their respects and support the living. Tradition had Shiva lasting a week, but many people sat for shorter amounts of time. Cam hadn’t mentioned how long the family would be sitting here to honor Cassie’s life.
When my grandmother died, there had been more laughter than tears, due to all the antics she’d gotten into. And food, so much food. Tradition was for visitors to bring food with them, so the mourning family didn’t have to cook for themselves. In that regard I held a package of chocolate chip cookies and hoped Cam would eat as he’d barely touched anything when he’d been at my apartment.
At the front door a pitcher of water and paper towels sat on the step, for those who entered to wash their hands, but I never learned why. My father hadn’t done so at any of the funerals I went to with him. The front door stood open, and I stepped inside without ringing the bell as my father had done.
The loud noise of chatter and dishware hit me. People milled about in the open dining room and living room. I checked for Cam but couldn’t find him. Instead I was met by a woman in her sixties, with short brown hair.
“Hello? Did you know Cassie?” the woman asked.
I nodded. “I was her case manager at elder services.” I held out my hand. “Veronica Anders.” I paused and then added, “Nica.”
The woman shook my hand. “Nice to meet you, Veronica.” So much for nicknames. “I’m Rhonda, Cassie’s daughter-in-law.”
I studied the woman. I had no clue if this was Cam’s mother or aunt. Cassie spent most of her time chatting about Cam, not her children. Somewhere in the recesses of my mind I knew the answer, but my mind wasn’t working. My stomach lurched. Ethical landmine going off in three, two, one…
“The rest of the family’s in the living room.” Rhonda gestured behind her. “You can drop off the sweets on the way.”
I thanked her and made my way into the house. I’d never made a business-related Shiva call before. Not that my being here was exactly business as usual. I could fool myself about attending the funeral for Cassie. But now? Now was for Cam, consequences be damned.
The dessert table overflowed with goodies. I rearranged a few in order to add my cookies to the mix. I wished I had time to bake something more personal. At least the cookies were from a bakery and not the food store. In the living room almost everyone had plates in their hands. They were talking, laughing, back and forth. Children ran around. Cam sat with his phone in his hands, no food.
I sat down next to him and smoothed down my skirt. “You need to eat,” I signed when he faced me.
He put away his phone, a small ghost of a smile crossing his lips. “I will.”
“I don’t like that statement.”
“Are you going to tell my mother I need to eat?”
“Right after you point out who she is.”
He leaned back and put an arm around the back of the couch; his unbuttoned suit jacket slid to his hips. “So now you want to meet my family?” He grinned, his first real one in over forty-eight hours.
