Beyond Blonde
“We weren’t one of them.
Mike and Uncle Dragan were weaving by the time we got out of the limo again, and Papa looked like he needed a drink. Auntie Eva artfully kept up the waterworks throughout the interment and the prayers, joined for brief sobbing serenades by Aunties Luba and Radmila and even Mama. I was sure Auntie Eva was going to pitch herself on top of the coffin when we got to the “ashes to ashes” part.
I nudged Auntie Luba. “Is she okay? Maybe we should—”
“Shhht.” Auntie Luba put a finger to her mouth. “Za more she cries, za less she is going to have to pee.”
“Uh … pardon?”
“Ya,” she snorted. “She’s got on a girdle zat takes two peoples to get her into. Let her cry.”
Mama leaned over. “She’s right. Eva looks fantastik, but it’s very impossible to get zat girdle off.”
“It’s too tight,” sniffed Auntie Radmila. “Zat’s vhy she is crying so much.”
I’m ashamed to say I hardly thought about poor old Luigi. Yet another tick in the “why I’m not nice”
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