More Daydee -Gonna do shorter segments

(She's up to about 120 MSS pages right now.)

Daydee went back to the cemetery on Saturday morning to make sure everything was set-up and in order for the funeral. She misjudged the time and pulled up as the service was under way. It was too late for any last minute fixes now. It didn’t matter, she decided. Jack was nowhere to be seen and she wouldn’t know what to do if there was a problem. The vault must have been installed because it wasn’t sitting where she had left it. The little railing was around the grave and the casket was ready to be lowered.  The aunt and son were in attendance with the grieving widow all in black. There seven old men and a minster and the gun salute squad in ratty uniforms. She stood a little distance away, so she wouldn’t intrude. The widow was visibly upset.  The minster moaned on and on. She had never appreciated church or ministers- this guy was especially sorrowful. She hoped Jack would be better than this tomorrow. Then it occurred to her that there must have been a few times when, he had to dig the hole, set the whole thing up and then return to conduct the service, and then return later to close the grave. Sort of like tucking children in for the night. That must have been the case with her own mother’s funeral.  And he probably didn’t get paid in her case. She would have to ask. It is just like these hayseeds to act noble about it, so you would have to read their minds.  The service was touching. The widow obviously had loved her husband and the aunt and son were just as pained looking. It must be something to be loved for years and grieved for after your life was over. How do you get that, she wondered.  They were lowering the casket and, each in turn, gently spreading a handful of dirt over the over the top. Everyone strolled away, leaving the widow alone beside the grave.  The aunt and son nodded and stood beside to wait on her. Daydee must have missed the salute, for the honor guard was leaving in a car. The widow finally turned and came toward them.

Daydee wasn’t sure of what to say to her. She felt bad about witnessing her grief. She stretched out her hand. It was ignored.

“We are all so sorry for your loss,” Daydee said.

The woman set her jaw.

“And who are you?”

“Ma’am, I represent the cemetery.”

“Oh, you’re the runaway.”

“Not much of one it seems,” Daydee said.

“This is the way you dress for a service?”

Daydee had on slacks and a blouse.

“I’m sorry; I was just here to check that everything was done properly. I wasn’t trying to insinuate myself into the funeral party.”

“Since when does anyone need an invitation to attend a memorial service?” the widow asked.

“I wouldn’t know, I’m new to this. It was a lovely service.”

“Thank you,” the widow said a coldly as she could muster and took her son’s arm and they walked off toward the car.

Daydee wanted to yell ‘Nice hat,’ after her, but bit her tongue.

They were a little late. Most of the congregation was seated in the pews. Jack was up in front in his pastor clothes, looking quite dapper. Winston had appeared, in black suit and tie, as if he were attending a funeral and was very nervous. He asked her three times if he looked all right. They drove over very slowly. The suit was tight and was showing its age, and probably was the only one he owned. He was shaking as they climbed the steps out front. It was the typical white Midwest church with steeple and columns. It was Presbyterian. Daydee didn’t know anything about the differences between the different Christian faiths, other than she thought the Presbyterian and the Methodists were slighter upper middle class and the Baptists and the Penacostals were farmers and stupider.  At first just a few heads turned when they came down the aisle, but there was an odd wave effect and more and more were looking back. Mostly the women. She spotted her realtor and waved. Winston was in shock. He pulled her into a pew and they sat down.   Jack looked very surprised and then smiled at her briefly.  He started the introduction to his sermon. They were asked to bow their heads and pray. Winston put his head over his two hands like a child might do. Daydee never really prayed in her life, and she wasn’t about to start now. She watched the others. Everyone was busy bowing their heads, so no one noticed. Jack had his eyes closed.

As she sat there, as the prayer ended and he began preaching, she became aware of all the smells around her from the other people, the colognes, and Winston’s sweat and general stuffiness of the church. The cleaning stuff on the pews- that stupid Liquid Gold. The nausea over took her in a wave. She had to get out of there. She was going to lose it. She got up carefully. Winston had  a panicked look. She patted his hand and quickly walked back down the aisle. There had to be a restroom somewhere up by the front door. She found it and made it inside and into a stall and immediately lost her breakfast.   Usually that would be it, but the nausea didn’t stop and she was dry heaving a bit before she could finally stop. She felt like shit, And she hadn’t even had anything to drink the night before. She found a small window and managed to open it. The fresh air helped.

The restroom door opened and her realtor and another woman came in. There was an awkward moment.

“Are you all right?” the other woman asked.

Daydee nodded and went to the sink. The mirror was old and spotted, it was hard to tell what had happened to her lipstick. She wetted a paper towel and daubed her mouth and her forehead.

“You had it bad,” the women said.

Daydee looked from her to Sarah.

“This is Jack’s wife,” Sarah said, as if that explained it. “She’s the minister’s wife, runs a lot of the church activities…helps the shut-ins… the young mothers…”

“I was just going to the bathroom,” Daydee said.

“The bathroom sort of echoes out into the main hall. No one really uses when there are services. It’s weird, I know. We should put up a sign on the door or something,” the woman said.

“I’m Deidre, Mrs. Jack’s wife. What’s your name?”

“Susan.”

They shook hands. “Pleased to meet you,” Daydee said.

“If you need any help, just holler.” Susan told her. “My morning sickness was horrible with all three. I thought I was going to die.”

They all went outside. The entire church seemed to glancing at her and talking among themselves. Winston got up and walked back to her.

“Can we get out of here?” Daydee asked in a whisper.

He nodded and they left the church. No one followed.

“So the whole fucking congregation heard me barfing?”

“I’m afraid so,” Winston said. He looked a little white.

“You take me home?”

When they pulled up in front of her building, Winston scratched his head.

“Maybe I should come by to help you cover up that graffiti.”

“I’ll take of it,“ she said.

“I mean it, I can help.  So who is the father?”

She got out of the car.

“Wait, would you want to go back to church with me again? We could go to another one. There’s a nice little Lutheran one a mile from here.”

“Let me think about,” she said. She was going to be sick again, so she hurried in.