The Drowned Boy by Karin Fossum Page B

blue suit.
    “How are you, my boy?” Zita asked, holding his hand. He held it for a long time, while a single tear trickled down his cheek. Then he crossed the threshold and came in. “This is a sad, sad day,” he said, his eyes piercing through Nicolai. “We have to be strong.”
    Nicolai didn’t answer. There was nothing to say, other than it was the blackest day of his life. He had not been so sad since the day his parents died in their Cessna,
Bird Dog
, in a violent storm. It all came back to him now with full force. Zita reached out his hand again but this time ruffled his hair. Nicolai did not turn away. He had always liked Zita and knew this was a clumsy caress from a man in mourning.
    “Is Carmen ready?” Zita asked and walked down the hallway.
    “Yes, she is,” he said with a wan smile, wondering whether his parents-in-law would react to her daring dress. Just then, Carmen came out of the bathroom, tottering on high heels. The black dress was so tight that any movement was restricted to tiny steps across the floor. She gave her father a long hug, swallowed by his generous embrace and weeping bitter tears.
    “Put a jacket on,” her father said firmly. “Your dress is beautiful, but it’s too low and not appropriate for church.”
    Carmen made a disappointed face and protested vociferously. It was far too warm to wear a jacket, and she didn’t like her father’s objections. “What kind of jacket do you mean?” Carmen whined. “The dress won’t be visible otherwise.”
    “A cardigan,” her father said. “Surely you’ve got a cardigan?”
    “She does,” said Nicolai, who had sat down on the sofa. “Your dress—it’s not a party we’re going to.”
    “I dressed up for Tommy,” Carmen said, smarting. “And all you do is complain.” She pouted like she always did when she didn’t get her own way.
    Nicolai closed his eyes and groaned. He couldn’t believe that they were in this situation. They were about to go to church to bury Tommy, and this was the end. He wanted so much to be strong, to be dignified in his grief. But more than anything, he just wanted to let go and cry like a baby. Carmen turned on her heel and disappeared into the bedroom. They could hear her slamming doors and drawers. After a while she came out again with a cardigan over her arm.
    “Put it on,” her father said sternly. “It’s a church and you need to be covered. People will react if you sit there with bare shoulders.”
    “If it gets too hot, I’m going to take it off,” Carmen retorted. “I don’t care what you say. I’m the one who’s lost my baby, so I decide.”
    “OK. The dress is lovely,” her father conceded, “but it is better suited to other occasions. Do you have anything simpler, a little more respectable?”
    “No,” Carmen said petulantly. “This dress fits all the rules. It’s black. All my other dresses are bright and colorful. Pink and blue and yellow. And I don’t want to wear pants on a day like today.”
    “Then you must be prepared for people to comment,” he said. “You look lovely, Carmen. Don’t get me wrong. I’m just trying to give you some advice. Remember that I’m older than you. There are some things I know more about.”
    “You’re just old-fashioned; that’s all it is,” she said. “And what’s more, you’re a Catholic, and I’m not. So there.”
    Her father wiped the beads of sweat from his brow. Carmen’s iron will overwhelmed him and made him weak.
     
    “I don’t want to drink coffee and eat cake. I don’t want to exchange clichés. I don’t want to dig up old memories about what has been, the good old days,” Carmen had said. She had also told the people from Sentrum and the female priest who was performing the funeral service that she couldn’t face watching Tommy’s coffin being lowered into the grave. The three spades of earth on the lid. So the ceremony was going to finish in the church. Nicolai had protested in his hesitant way. He