Slone had three funeral homes, two for the whites (upper and lower) and one for the blacks. Integration1 had been achieved in some important areas of life--schools, politics, employment, and commercial activity. But in other areas, integration would never occur because neither race really wanted it. Sunday worship was segregated2, by choice. A few blacks attended the larger white churches in town, and they were welcome. Even fewer whites could be found in black churches, where they were treated like everyone else. But the vast majority stuck with their own kind, and bigotry3 had little to do with it. It was more a matter of tradition and preference. The whites preferred an orderly, more subdued4 ritual on Sunday morning. Opening prayer at 11:00 a.m., followed by some beautiful music, then a nice crisp sermon, out by noon and certainly no later than 12:10 because by then they were starving. In the black churches, time was not as important. The spirit flowed more freely and made for a more spontaneous style of worship. The crack of noon was never heard. Lunch was often on the grounds, whenever, with no one in a hurry to leave.
And dying was so different. There was never a hurry to bury a black person, while the whites usually wanted it done within three days max. The black funeral home was busier, with more visitors, longer wakes, longer good-byes. Lamb & Son had been providing dignified5 service in its part of town for decades. When its hearse arrived a few minutes after 10:00 p.m., there was a solemn crowd waiting on the lawn in front of the small chapel6. The mourners were silent, with heads down, faces somber7. They watched as Hubert and Alvin opened the rear door of the hearse, then gave directions to the pallbearers--eight friends of Donte's, most of whom had once played football for the Slone Warriors8. They carried the casket a few feet, following Hubert Lamb, then disappeared through a side door. The funeral home was closed and would not open until the following morning when Donte was properly prepared and ready to be viewed.
Sirens wailed9 in the distance. The air was thick, tense, heavy with smoke and fear. Those who were not making trouble were certainly expecting it.
A car pulled into the parking lot and parked next to the hearse. Roberta Drumm, with Marvin, Cedric, and Andrea, got out and moved slowly to the front entrance, where they greeted their friends. There were hugs and whispers and tears. The family eventually went inside, but the friends did not leave. Another car turned in and parked near the hearse. It was Robbie, with Aaron Rey, and they slipped past the crowd and entered through the side door. In the front parlor10, Robbie met the family. They sat together and embraced and cried as if they had not seen each other in months. Only a few hours earlier they had watched Donte die, but that time and place were so distant now.
During the drive back from Huntsville, the Drumm family had listened to the radio and talked on cell phones. They quizzed Robbie about this Boyette character, and Robbie gave all the details he had. They knew things were grim in Slone, and expected to get worse, and Roberta repeatedly said she wanted the violence to stop. It's not within your power, Robbie assured her. It's out of control.
Hubert Lamb entered the parlor and said, "Roberta, Donte is ready."
She entered the prep room alone, closed the door behind her, and locked it. Her beautiful boy was lying on a narrow table, one covered in white sheets for the moment. He was dressed in the same clothes they had killed him in--cheap white shirt, worn khakis, bargain shoes--courtesy of the State of Texas. She gently placed her hands on his cheeks and kissed him on the face--the forehead, the lips, the nose, the chin--she kissed him and kissed him as her tears dropped like rain. She had not touched him in eight years, the last embrace a quick, stolen hug as they led him out of the courtroom the day they sentenced him to die, and as she wept now, she remembered the unspeakable agony of watching him hauled away, the leg chains rattling11, the fat deputies crowding around him as if he just might kill someone else, the hard, smug faces of the prosecutors12, the jurors, and the judge, proud of their work.
"I love you, Momma," he called over his shoulder, then they shoved him through a door and he was gone.
His skin wasn't cold, nor was it warm. She touched the small scar under his chin, a small consolation13 prize from a neighborhood rock fight he'd lost when he was eight years old. Other rock fights followed. He had been a tough kid, made tougher by his older brother Cedric, who teased him constantly. A tough kid, but a sweet boy. She touched the lobe14 of his right ear, the tiny hole barely visible. He bought an earring15 when he was fifteen, a small fake diamond, and wore it when he was out with his friends. He hid it from his father, though. Riley would have chastised16 him.
Her beautiful boy, lying there so peaceful, and so healthy. Dead but not diseased. Dead but not injured. Dead but not maimed. She examined his arms and could find no trace of the needle pricks17 used for the injections. There was no evidence of the killing18, nothing external. He seemed to be resting and waiting for the next drug to be administered, one that would gently wake him and allow him to go home with his mother.
His legs were straight; his arms were by his sides. Hubert Lamb said the stiffening19 would begin soon, so she had to get busy. From her purse, she removed a tissue to wipe her cheeks and a pair of scissors to cut away the prison garb20. She could have unbuttoned the shirt, but instead she cut it down the front, then along the sleeves, removing it piece by piece and dropping the scraps21 on the floor. Tears still ran down her cheeks, but she was humming now, an old gospel song, "Take My Hand, Precious Lord." She paused to rub his flat stomach and his soft chest and shoulders, and she marveled at how much he'd shrunk in prison. The fierce athlete was gone, replaced by the broken prisoner. He had died slowly in prison.
She unbuckled the cheap canvas belt, and for good measure cut it in half and dropped it on the pile. Tomorrow, when she was alone, she planned to burn the prison scraps in her backyard, in a private ceremony that only she would attend. She unlaced the dreadful shoes, removed them, and pulled off the white cotton socks. She touched the scars along his left ankle, permanent reminders23 of the injury that ended his football career. She cut the khakis, carefully up the inseams and delicately through the crotch. Of her three boys, Cedric had been the dresser, the clotheshorse who would work two part-time jobs so he could buy better labels. Donte preferred jeans and pullovers and looked good in anything. Anything but the jumpsuits they wore in prison. She clipped away, dropping the pieces of khaki onto the pile. She paused occasionally to wipe her cheeks with the back of a hand, but she had to hurry. The body was stiffening. She stepped to a sink and turned on the faucet24.
The boxer25 shorts were white and oversized. She snipped26 away like a seamstress and removed them. The pile was complete. He was naked, leaving the world the same way he had entered it. She poured liquid soap into the sink, splashed the water, adjusted the temperature, then turned off the faucet. She dipped a cloth and began bathing her son. She rubbed his legs, then dried them quickly with a small towel. She washed his genitals, and wondered how many grandchildren he would have fathered. He loved the girls, and they loved him. She gently washed his chest and arms, neck and face, drying him as she went.
When the bath was finished, she moved to the last and most difficult part of her preparation. Before the family left for Huntsville, Cedric stopped by the funeral home with a new suit Roberta had purchased and altered. It was hanging on a wall, along with a new white shirt and a handsome gold tie. She assumed the shirt and coat would be the most difficult, the pants and shoes the easiest to finesse27. And she was right. His arms would not bend now, and she carefully threaded the shirt over his right arm, then gently maneuvered28 Donte onto his left side. She brought the shirt around, laid him back down, wiggled it over his left arm, and quickly buttoned it. She did the same with the coat, a dark gray wool blend, and when she wrapped it around him, she paused for a second to kiss the side of his face. His legs were stiff. She methodically inched upward a pair of black cotton boxers29, size large and too big. She should have bought mediums. The pants took a while. She tugged30 gently from side to side, straining to lift Donte at his midsection for a moment to complete the task. When the pants were in place at the waist, she tucked in the shirttail, zipped the pants, then fished a belt through the loops and buckled22 it. His feet were stiff, his ankles wouldn't bend, and the socks were more of a challenge than she had expected. The shoes were the black leather lace-ups Donte had worn to church as a teenager.
The shoes had been taken from his closet, one he'd shared with Marvin when they were boys. Donte had assumed full ownership when his brother got married, and for nine years now it had remained virtually untouched. Roberta cleaned it, dusted the clothing, killed the insects, arranged things just so. Hours earlier when she had removed the shoes, she had stood in the closet door for a long time, wondering, what now?
For years after he was sent away, she lived with the fervent31 belief that Donte would one day be freed. One glorious day their nightmare would end and he would come home. He would sleep in his bed, eat his mother's cooking, nap on the sofa, and need the things in his closet. One day a judge or a lawyer or someone toiling32 in the impenetrable maze33 of the judicial34 system would discover the truth. The phone call from heaven would arrive and they would celebrate. But the appeals ran their course, no miracles occurred, the years dragged on, and her hope and the hopes of many others slowly faded. The shirts and jeans and sweaters and shoes in his closet would never be used again, and she wondered what to do with them.
Roberta told herself to worry about it later.
She laced his shoes, adjusted his socks, pulled down the cuffs35 of his pants. Now that he was dressed, she could relax. Cedric had tied the necktie into a perfect knot, and she looped it over Donte's head and managed to fit it under his collar. She tightened36 the knot and fiddled37 with the tie until it was perfect. She adjusted here and there, flattened38 a few wrinkles in the pants, then she took a step back and admired her work. What a handsome young man. Gray suit, white shirt, gold tie; she had chosen well.
She leaned over and kissed him again. Get up Donte and let's go to church. You'll find a wife there and have ten children. Hurry now, there's so much you've missed. Please. Let's go show you off in your fine new outfit39. Hurry now.
She was aware of the grislier aspects of death, the embalming40 and fluids and such, and she knew that in a few hours Mr. Lamb and his son would be warming the body, removing the clothes, and going about their unspeakable tasks. That's why she wanted these few precious moments with her son, while he was still whole and intact.
Tomorrow she would plan the funeral and tend to the other details. She would be strong and brave. Now, though, she wanted to be alone with her child, to grieve and ache and cry without restraint, as any mother would.
收听单词发音 |
1
integration
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| n.一体化，联合，结合 | |
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segregated
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| 分开的； 被隔离的 | |
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bigotry
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| n.偏见，偏执，持偏见的行为[态度]等 | |
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subdued
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| adj. 屈服的，柔和的，减弱的 动词subdue的过去式和过去分词 | |
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dignified
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| a.可敬的，高贵的 | |
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chapel
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| n.小教堂，殡仪馆 | |
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somber
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| adj.昏暗的，阴天的，阴森的，忧郁的 | |
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warriors
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| 武士，勇士，战士( warrior的名词复数 ) | |
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wailed
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| v.哭叫，哀号( wail的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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parlor
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| n.店铺，营业室；会客室，客厅 | |
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rattling
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| adj. 格格作响的, 活泼的, 很好的 adv. 极其, 很, 非常 动词rattle的现在分词 | |
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prosecutors
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| 检举人( prosecutor的名词复数 )； 告发人； 起诉人； 公诉人 | |
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consolation
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| n.安慰，慰问 | |
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lobe
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| n.耳垂，（肺，肝等的）叶 | |
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earring
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| n.耳环，耳饰 | |
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chastised
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| v.严惩（某人）（尤指责打）( chastise的过去式 ) | |
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pricks
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| 刺痛( prick的名词复数 )； 刺孔； 刺痕； 植物的刺 | |
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killing
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| n.巨额利润；突然赚大钱，发大财 | |
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stiffening
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| n. (使衣服等)变硬的材料, 硬化 动词stiffen的现在分词形式 | |
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garb
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| n.服装，装束 | |
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scraps
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| 油渣 | |
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buckled
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| a. 有带扣的 | |
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reminders
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| n.令人回忆起…的东西( reminder的名词复数 )；提醒…的东西；（告知该做某事的）通知单；提示信 | |
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faucet
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| n.水龙头 | |
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boxer
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| n.制箱者，拳击手 | |
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snipped
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| v.剪( snip的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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finesse
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| n.精密技巧，灵巧，手腕 | |
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maneuvered
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| v.移动，用策略( maneuver的过去式和过去分词 )；操纵 | |
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boxers
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| n.拳击短裤；（尤指职业）拳击手( boxer的名词复数 )；拳师狗 | |
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tugged
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| v.用力拉，使劲拉，猛扯( tug的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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fervent
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| adj.热的，热烈的，热情的 | |
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toiling
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| 长时间或辛苦地工作( toil的现在分词 )； 艰难缓慢地移动，跋涉 | |
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maze
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| n.迷宫，八阵图，混乱，迷惑 | |
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judicial
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| adj.司法的，法庭的，审判的，明断的，公正的 | |
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cuffs
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| n.袖口( cuff的名词复数 )v.掌打，拳打( cuff的第三人称单数 ) | |
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tightened
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| 收紧( tighten的过去式和过去分词 )； （使）变紧； （使）绷紧； 加紧 | |
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fiddled
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| v.伪造( fiddle的过去式和过去分词 )；篡改；骗取；修理或稍作改动 | |
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flattened
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| [医]（水）平扁的，弄平的 | |
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outfit
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| n.（为特殊用途的）全套装备，全套服装 | |
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embalming
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| v.保存（尸体）不腐( embalm的现在分词 )；使不被遗忘；使充满香气 | |
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