Chương 59: Outplayed

It rained. Everything about the funeral was small. The plot, the casket, and the crowd of boys in their best suits, trying hard to be men. Una had told Father Jonás the funeral would be family only—just her. The last Martillo left on earth. Jonás shook his head and said it would be better to let the church handle it. Una had let him, and now she regretted it. Each day was a wide-open wound. There was nothing to do but pick at herself and think of what she could have done differently.

She'd woken at four AM this morning, wishing she didn't have to come here. There was no choice at all. She'd put on her church shoes and the tired black dress that had seen far too much use. The committal took place in the church graveyard. The boys from the game club served as pallbearers. It was strange to see them serious and dressed in formal clothes. There was Duncan, who'd been so kind when she told him Robin was sick. He'd promised her they wouldn't treat him differently.

Sandy, who looked so strange without his careless grin. Vlad, Chuck, Jeremy, and Bryan had all cared enough to carry the weight of today and the body of their friend. Bitterly, she remembered complaining about the shiftless boys to Dr. Suarez. Now they were here, carrying her grandson. What a fool she was. The Amsler family had come; all eight of them. Barry and Jael, Maor and Hilit, Doron and Sandy, Rachel and Yvonne. Six children; what a madhouse it must be.

Una looked at the casket and felt a terrible envy coil around her. And God blessed them, saying: Increase and multiply, and fill the earth, and subdue it, and rule over the fishes of the sea, and the fowls of the air, and all living creatures that move upon the earth. The Amslers had done just that. Una failed. She and Hector had tried and tried, but there was only Lucinda. Poor Lucinda, who'd somehow got the worst of both of them. Hector's bad lungs, his lonely, moody nature. Una's hard heart, temper, and pride.

There had been trouble since she was eleven, and when she ran off it was no great surprise. They couldn't get through breakfast without a fight. Una blamed herself, but there was plenty on Lucinda too, mixed up in drugs and failing out of school. Una straightened her posture. There was all the time in the world for bitterness later. Today was for Robin. The rain picked up as Father Jonás began the Rite of Committal. They paused to put up their umbrellas.

Our brother Robin has gone to his rest in the peace of Christ. May the Lord now welcome him to the table of God' s children in heaven. She thought of Robin at her kitchen table, choking on scrambled eggs. She remembered his fingers, blue with paint from the endless clay birds. His little head down on the newspaper, hair falling off like dandelion fluff. Why not me? She clung to the anger, the only thing that kept her upright. This was the real reason she hadn't wanted these people around.

She didn't want to weep in front of strangers. God of endless ages, through disobedience to your law we fell from grace and death entered the world So much death. Hector and Lucinda. The three other babies Una had failed to carry to term. The abortion she still hated Lucinda for. So many more. All pouring on her, all the time. Why was she still here? How could anyone stand it? She looked around the funeral, all the somber faces shadowed beneath the umbrellas.

She wanted to shake them, to ask them how they could take it. How could anyone see this and not scream? Her breath caught. She dug her nails into her palms. Somehow she made it through. Go in the peace of Christ.

"Thanks be to God." Una gave a hollow reply. * This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it. The storm broke up with the funeral. In the distance, shafts of sun broke through and shone down on Albuquerque. The pallbearers were nervous to face her. Duncan's Adam's apple bobbed in his throat as she approached. It was Vlad who spoke. He wore his best suit. He'd shaved his scraggly beard and tied his hair back.

"We're lucky to have known him. He was a tough opponent, and a good kid. Nuestro más sentido pésame, Doña Martillo. La acompañamos en su dolor (Our condolences, Mrs. Martillo. We are with you in your pain)." Una nodded. Vlad must have spent some time on that. He'd cleaned up well for the funeral. It was hard to believe this was the slob she'd sniffed at the day this all began. His accent wasn't half bad, either."

Se les agradece de corazón —thank you all, from my heart," Una spoke to Vlad and then translated for the boys. The others struggled, but each managed to force out something small and polite about Robin. Sandy Amsler looked like he was about three seconds away from sobbing.

"He was a good painter. He would have been really great," Sandy squeaked.

"He loved the lessons you gave him. All of you were a great solace to Robin. Your games let him forget. Thank you." She left them with their eyes wet and went to thank the other Amslers. Barry Amsler was gray and shaken. Jael and Yvonne had red eyes. There were things in Una's handbag that she had to give out.

"Robin asked me to give you this." She gave Yvonne a letter in a sealed envelope. The urge to steam it open and read was unbearable, but Una had resisted. She only hoped he hadn't written anything too wild. Yvonne accepted the letter as if Una had offered her a knife, blade first. Una turned to Sandy.

"Robin didn't have time to make many friends in Albuquerque. Thank you for being so kind to him. You were a tremendous comfort. He wanted you to have this." Wrapped in a grocery bag were Robin's diario and his Cruz Azul ball cap. Sandy thanked Una. He opened the bag, took out the hat, and held it until his eyes teared up. Then, he ran to the edge of the cemetery and bawled against a locust tree. Jael Amsler moved to comfort him, but Barry held her back.

"Give him a sec." Jael made a face. Una felt awful, handing out these mementos that hurt so much. It was what Robin had wanted. He'd left her instructions with his farewell letter, written on a sheet of graph paper torn from his composition book. The last will and testament of a thirteen-year-old. She turned to Duncan.

"Robin asked me to thank you for being so welcoming to him. Your game club was such a comfort. He looked forward to playing so much every week. Your calls kept him going through treatment. Thank you."

"I was happy to do it. He was such a smart kid and a good sport. He tried really hard every game. He was graceful in victory and defeat. Honestly, he was one of the best players I've ever seen. I really mean that."

"Do you still have his little army? Maybe you could loan it out to others, the way you helped him."

"It's already arranged. The store bought Robin's army. It's going to be in the display case for anyone to borrow. We're going to have his picture and his story too, if that's okay with you. Vlad wrote an article about Robin for the magazine."

"I would like to read it, when it comes out."

"I'll send you a copy for sure. Also, Robin wanted me to give this to you." Duncan held out an envelope.

"It's not necessary." Una stiffened up. It was hard enough to hand out these barbed gifts. She didn't think she could take it.

"He told me you'd say that. He asked if you would please take this anyway. He said he wanted so much to go with you, but this is the best he could do." She scowled and accepted the blue and white envelope. It's such a pleasure to take the bus … and leave the driving to us! There was money inside—all the birds they'd spent and then some. Then there was a round-trip bus ticket to Zacatecas. Una shut her eyes tight and tucked the envelope against her chest.

Anger flashed and plunged so swiftly into sorrow she thought she might drown. She fought to keep a sob down.

"Thank you." It was all she could do not not weep against the tree like Sandy. She didn't want to take the ticket or Duncan's money but she had no choice. She'd been outplayed.

"Our campaign ends this weekend. Robin helped me write the final scenario. We talked it over. The Heartbroken Brigade will play in his memory to complete the story."

"Who is going to play for him?" Una asked. Duncan nodded at Sandy. Jael had caved and gone over to give him some tissues. Sandy honked as he blew his nose.

"Can he beat Vlad?"

"We'll see," Duncan hedged. Una waited until Sandy had composed himself, then caught his eye.

"Win," she ordered him. He could only nod. Father Jonás was waiting patiently. Una hobbled his way with a grimace. The rain bothered her hip. In the end, she was glad she'd listened to him. It was a beautiful service.