Page 30 - ContrastFall1987-1988

Seeing the Light

"All these weeping women are hell--aren't they Dad," smirked
Andy, Charles' 20 year old son.

Charles let the observation be absorbed by the rain.

"It always rains at these things. I think God likes us all to feel
depressed. Can't have a happy funeral," Andy added.

Glancing over the coffin of his mother-in-law, Charles watched

his teenage daughter Jenny comfort his sobbing wife. He took a

small step in their direction. Mrs. Strohecker, a next door ,

neighbor, interceded with a burly sympathy hug. Charles shuffled

back to his son. After wiping his sweaty palms on his raincoat,

Charles fidgeted with his gold inlaid pocketwatch. He caressed the
gold cuts with soothing strokes of his thumb.

"Mom's really taking this hard," observed Andy. "Doesn't she
realize that the old lady left us about $5,000? She can take that
cruise now."

Charles removed his wire-framed glasses from his shiny nose
with his right hand. He coated each lens with a blast of steam.
With his left hand he got a handkerchief, stained various shades of
white by use, and rubbed the lenses free of imaginary dirt.
Replacing the handkerchief with the left hand, he returned his

glasses to their perch with a little push. They slid on the slight film
of oil. Charles placed his index finger on the bridge of the glasses
and shoved them towards their rightful place. Tiny scrapes on each
side of his nose reddened in response. Charles bent the arms of the
glasses down and wrapped them around his ears.

Janice, Charles' wife, looked past her son towards her
husband's balding head. Peacock blue eyeshadow dripped down
from each eye. Her

black eyeliner smeared into a football player's sunguard. White
tear canals divided light pink blush so that it only partly accented
her skin.

"Mom looks like shit," Andy's voice broke into the silent link
between husband and wife. "She usually takes so much time with
herself in the mornings. She always cuts on you for dressing like a
slob and not shaving; now look at her."

Charles touched his glasses again. The palms of his hands
were dry.

"Hal Would you look at that. She just tried to wipe of some
off that smeared stuff and now she looks like she belongs in

KISS," Andy added. "She can't say anything to us anymore. I
want to get a camera and .... "

"Shut up, Andy," said Charles, his glasses finally in place.
"Your mother deserves more respect than that."