Sunday, August 24, 2003
The following Monday, Jack and Rose drove over to the college to sign up for classes. There was a great deal of construction going on, with efforts being made to repair or replace the earthquake-damaged buildings. Jack, as he had promised, signed up for only one class, the Art History class with Rose, and they both qualified for fee waivers. They were also gratified to learn that the textbook from the previous semester was still good, so they didn’t have to buy another, though Rose grumbled at the cost of the books she did have to buy. Even when bought used, they were still expensive.
Rose’s first class was on Wednesday, the history class, and she and Jack decided that they would take turns driving to the college—she on Monday and Wednesday nights, he on Thursdays. The arrangement worked well, and ensured that they only had to buy one overpriced parking permit.
Even after only one class, Rose was impressed by the knowledge of George Peck and couldn’t wait to learn more. She had always liked art, though she wasn’t very good at drawing or painting, and enjoyed the lecture. Jack had heard it before, but now he paid even more attention, picking up on the symbolism of the art. He already had a fair amount of knowledge about art history, since he had been fascinated with art since he was about six years old, and he was able to explain some things to Rose that she hadn’t thought of. When he e-mailed his cousin Emmaline about the class, she demanded that he and Rose send her everything they could find out. Her father thought that art was a waste of time, but he never bothered to get into her e-mail, so Emmaline used this source to learn more about her hobby.
On Sunday morning, Rose walked into the kitchen to find Jack staring thoughtfully at his bowl of cereal.
"Good morning, Jack," she told him, sitting down. "That cereal must be fascinating."
He looked up. "What?"
"You’re staring at your cereal as though it holds the secrets to the world."
"Oh. I was just thinking, is all."
"What about?"
"Nothing much. Just...I suddenly realized that I haven’t been down to Mexico yet to visit Fabrizio’s grave."
"And so you were staring at your cereal. That sounds like what my grandmother calls a ‘Bukater Brown-Out’, only you’re not a Bukater."
"I was thinking of going down there today. It’s a little cooler than it has been, so the drive shouldn’t be too bad."
"I was wondering when you were going to visit."
"I didn’t feel up to it before, but I think it’s time I went down there." He paused a moment. "Would you like to come along?"
Rose thought for a moment, then nodded. "Sure. Did you ask Helga?"
"She has to work."
"Oh, that’s right. I think she’d like to go down there, though."
"Maybe one of these days we can all go down there, but I think I want to visit today, see where he’s buried and visit with his family."
"You miss him, don’t you?"
Jack shrugged. "He was my best friend. Don’t you miss Trudy?"
Rose nodded. "Yes. Very much."
"I’d like to leave in about an hour. Can you be ready by then?"
"I’ll be ready."
*****
At around nine o’clock, Jack and Rose started out for Mexico, driving Jack’s car, which, he said, was uglier than Rose’s. She laughed at the remark, but didn’t object. Her car wasn’t that fancy, but it was better to leave it at home.
The drive was much shorter than it had been in the days following the earthquake. Most of the roads had been repaired, so the drive took only about two and a half hours. Jack was much more familiar with the village that Fabrizio was from than the others had been, and had little trouble finding Fabrizio’s family’s house.
One of the younger children ran into the house, yelling that Fabrizio’s American friends were there, and a moment later Ana came out to greet them.
She spoke to them in Spanish, and, while Rose had picked up a little more of that language, she still had difficulty understanding it. Jack, however, was almost fluent, having learned it from Fabrizio while they worked in the fields in the United States.
They visited for a short time, exchanging news and eating lunch with the De Rosas, before they left for the cemetery. Jack translated for Rose, though she understood a little of the Spanish, and told her that Ana was hoping that Helga would make the trip down after her baby was born. She wanted to meet her grandchild.
After about an hour, they bade the De Rosas farewell and headed for the cemetery. Rose had been present for the funeral and covered every inch of the route on her crutches, so she remembered well where Fabrizio had been buried.
It was about a five minute walk from the street to the place where Fabrizio’s grave lay. It was marked with a carved wooden cross—there was no money for anything fancier—and lay amongst the graves of other members of the family.
Jack stared at the wooden cross for a moment. "I wish I could have been here for the funeral."
Rose stood beside him, an arm around him. "I think Fabrizio would have understood why you couldn’t be there," she told him soothingly.
"I wish I had found a way."
"You were so weak that you could barely sit up. No one in their right mind would have expected you to be there."
"Still..."
"You’re here now."
"Yeah." He looked at the wooden cross again. "I’m sorry I couldn’t be here, amigo. I would have been if I could." He took a deep breath, then went on. "I guess you might know what’s been happening here. Helga’s going to have a baby in January. You’re going to be a father. She misses you a lot, and wishes that she could be here, too, but you know what employers can be like. She has a rude boss, one so bad that she almost makes that fat bastard at Sunpeak look human. You remember him. The one that people wished would be hit be a meteor, or eaten by coyotes. The earthquake got him, but I guess you know that. Anyway, Sunpeak is gone, and they aren’t going to rebuild it. It’s just too bad so many people had to die for things to change. Dammit, I wish you hadn’t been one of them."
His voice was growing loud. Rose tugged on his arm, gesturing to the few people in the cemetery who were turning to stare at him. He lowered his voice.
"Dammit, Fabri, why did you have to die? You had so much going for you. You were so close to being a citizen, and you had a new wife and a baby on the way. Helga found out what the baby is—it’s a boy. But he’ll never know his father." Rose put her arms around him, leaning her head against his shoulder. "We all miss you, Fabri, and I hope that wherever you are, you’ve found peace. God knows there’s not enough of it here."
They stood before the grave awhile longer, not speaking, just standing quietly and gazing at the simple wooden cross. A soft breeze blew across the cemetery, ruffling their hair and rustling the leaves on the eucalyptus tree nearby.
Finally, Jack spoke one more time. "Well, Fabri, we have to be going now. It’s getting late, and we have a long drive back to the United States. Sometime soon, we’ll all stop by here again."
They left quietly, Jack looking back once at the grave, highlighted by the mid-afternoon sun. He could almost swear that he had heard Fabrizio whispering to him, but maybe it was just the wind. He didn’t know.
Silently, they made their way back to the car and started the long drive back to the United States.