My brother’s wife

    My brother’s wife worked at the corner of our street, East 140th, in a large factory. Since she was only a block from our house, she would come over for lunch, which my mom made. One time, Mom was out. She came over and was tired, so she took a nap, between the living room and dining room, on the thick, rose print carpet floor. I was outside playing with my friends; across the street was a group of older teenagers talking. I ran into the house for something, and I noticed a body lying on the floor, under the arch. I carefully walked over and looked. She didn’t move. I ran out, and slowly walked over to the parking sign, close to the group of older teenagers. With my right arm out stretched holding onto the post, I slowly walked around, with tears coming, down my cheeks. One of the girls said, What’s wrong, Bobby?” I said, “ I think she’s dead!” They said, “Who”. Now, all nine were walking toward me. I said, “ She’s my brothers wife and isn’t moving”. They said, “ Maybe we should take a look”, so all nine went up the back porch steps, through the screen door, into the kitchen, through the living room where she laid. Some walked around her, and stood in a circle looking down. One guy said, “I should take her pulse”. As he bent his knees and was about to reach for her hand, her eyes opened, all nine jumped back. She became like a child, trying to get her herself up from the floor and I ran out of the house.

    My sister-in –law said to my mom- “oh, I know dad would love my wood”. My mom wasn’t crazy about it from the beginning. But my mom let dad store it up in the attic for a while. Then my mom said to my dad, “ I really want it out of the house”. I think when mom would go up in the attic she would see that shadowy gray box in the corner, with the shining, brash handles. My Aunt Olive was staying with us all the time. One evening when we had just finished dinner and were about to taste dad’s favorite dessert- mom made strawberry shortcake- we heard this scream coming from upstairs. It was aunt Olive; she was hysterical. When she went to take the first step down the stairs, she forgot about the banister- and went flying down sideways into my dad’s arms. She swore she saw the gray box move in the attic. It was late February and the snow was still on the ground. There it was- laid right next to the garage-not far from the garbage cans. The sanitation men came the next morning; they could see it from the next yard. Mom could hear them say, “No way is I going near that box!” So my dad had to chop up the coffin case and save the brass handles.