i approached the coffin , craving the moment of silent and calm in which i would try to talked to nathan for the last time .
i planned to tell him again : i am sorry .
my heels clacked on the uneven tiles and a woman sitting in front pew swiveled around ." i thought it would be you ," said rose . her hair into a chignon , she wore an exquisitely cut linen dress and jacket ( french , no doubt ) . a bouquet of white roses , laurel , and fern lay on her lap . she was pale but , all in all , she presented herself with distinction as the not-quite-but-almost-widow .
i slipped into the pew beside her . i raised my eyes and looked into the face that was bent toward me . like my own skin and bones , rose was imp[ossible to eradicate , i could never , ever scrape her away . nathan had lived with her first , had his first children with her , died qwith her . on that last day , stricken and beaten , he had fumbled his way to rose .
she was to blame for everything and nothing .
in the window embrasures , the bowls of flowers seemed to be floating , poised on the bioundaries of this world and some spectral realm , " do you think the flowers will do ? the florist was uncanny . she seemed to know , " i said .
roshesitated , " i hope you don't mind , but i had a word with her , and told her what nathan preferred , " she touched one of the roses in the bouquet on her lap . they were creamy rose would be ." i thought that i wouldn't be treading on your toes . you'd want what nathan loked ?"
"you should have asked me ."
at that , she coloerd , " perhaps , but you were busy and i now you want to keep contact between us to a minimum .
i planned to tell him again : i am sorry .
my heels clacked on the uneven tiles and a woman sitting in front pew swiveled around ." i thought it would be you ," said rose . her hair into a chignon , she wore an exquisitely cut linen dress and jacket ( french , no doubt ) . a bouquet of white roses , laurel , and fern lay on her lap . she was pale but , all in all , she presented herself with distinction as the not-quite-but-almost-widow .
i slipped into the pew beside her . i raised my eyes and looked into the face that was bent toward me . like my own skin and bones , rose was imp[ossible to eradicate , i could never , ever scrape her away . nathan had lived with her first , had his first children with her , died qwith her . on that last day , stricken and beaten , he had fumbled his way to rose .
she was to blame for everything and nothing .
in the window embrasures , the bowls of flowers seemed to be floating , poised on the bioundaries of this world and some spectral realm , " do you think the flowers will do ? the florist was uncanny . she seemed to know , " i said .
roshesitated , " i hope you don't mind , but i had a word with her , and told her what nathan preferred , " she touched one of the roses in the bouquet on her lap . they were creamy rose would be ." i thought that i wouldn't be treading on your toes . you'd want what nathan loked ?"
"you should have asked me ."
at that , she coloerd , " perhaps , but you were busy and i now you want to keep contact between us to a minimum .
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