CHAPTER 2 #2
Anja frowned but pulled her daughter close.
They had to pause along the way, when people stopped to give their condolences, but eventually they made it to a surprisingly sparse graveyard.
At first glance it appeared to be an open field.
There were no tombstones or crypts, only flat stone plaques, uniform in size and material.
In fact, he didn’t see anything ornamental at all.
No statues or fountains. Not even flowers or vases to hold them.
Simple dirt paths ran between the graves.
He didn’t get it. Omar’s family had money. They could do better.
“Is this um…” Anthony struggled to find the most polite way of asking his question. “Is this where Mamani wanted to be buried?”
Anja seemed to pick up on his meaning. “For believers of Islam, it’s important to remain humble in God’s presence.
That’s why we don’t dress up the deceased, or give long sermons about how great they were in life, no matter how true that might be.
The idea is that everyone returns to Allah on equal terms.”
“Is that why the grave markers are all so uniform?”
“Yes. Exactly.”
They joined a group who had gathered around a freshly dug hole, Anja halting them some distance back.
They turned and watched as Mamani’s body was carried on the same bier as before, Omar and his male relatives the pallbearers.
The crowd parted to make room for them. Mamani was set down gently on the ground.
Omar hopped into the grave. Anthony glanced at Anja to make sure this was normal.
His father, Yousef, climbed in after him.
The two uncles gently lifted the canvas beneath Mamani’s white-shrouded form and eased her down into the waiting arms below.
Anthony couldn’t see what happened next, but he could imagine how surreal it would be to handle the dead body of a relative.
Part of him found the ritual upsetting, although there was also something more personal about this method than putting someone in a box, like an intimate final act of love.
“They’ll lay her on her right side,” Anja whispered, “facing Mecca.”
The process seemed to take some time. Yousef was the first to return to the surface.
Omar climbed out after him, a scowl on his burning face.
The same priest—or whatever the equivalent was—recited some words in Arabic.
Yousef stepped forward and took a handful of dirt, casting it into the grave.
He repeated this twice more. Omar’s chin trembled as he did the same while mouthing words that Anthony couldn’t hear.
Then he marched over to them. Yasmin wrapped herself around her brother’s arm and began to weep.
Omar’s brow remained furrowed, as if he was angry, but at whom or what Anthony wasn’t sure.
The other guests took their turns adding soil, soft prayers breaking out around them.
Anthony doubted he could handle doing the same.
To look into that hole and see Mamani lying there, partially covered by dirt, would be far too much for him.
Yasmin stayed close to Omar, so Anthony did too.
The cemetery staff took over, using shovels to fill in the grave while everyone else watched. At the end of this, the priest raised his palms and said something in Arabic, finishing with, “O Allah, please grant our sister forgiveness and admit her into Paradise.”
This was followed by what sounded like a chorus of “amen” amidst soft weeping. That included Anja.
“Can I go now?” Omar grumbled.
His mother seemed unable to respond, so Yousef answered.
“You’re expected back at the house to—”
“I’ll be there,” Omar said before trudging away.
Anthony began to follow until Anja put a hand on his shoulder. “Take care of him for me.”
“I will,” he promised.
Anthony had to sprint to catch up with his best friend. Omar walked right past the car, all the way to the far edge of the parking lot.
“Hey!” Anthony said to get his attention. “Are you all right?”
“No!” Omar snarled after spinning around. He pointed a trembling hand at the cemetery. “Did you hear that guy? Like my grandma needed forgiveness for anything!”
“I’m sure it’s similar to Christianity,” Anthony said. “You know, how everyone is born a sinner?”
“I don’t care!” Omar shot back, ripping the cap from his head.
“Mamani was a saint! If anything, God should be down here on his knees, begging our forgiveness for taking her from us! You have no idea what it was like having to handle her body. I just wanted to hug her, but I didn’t, because I knew she couldn’t hug me back.
” Omar’s chin began to tremble. “I miss her so fucking bad!”
“So do I,” Anthony said, his voice cracking. “I can’t stand to see you hurt like this.”
“Don’t you start,” Omar said pleadingly. “You’ll set me off.”
“Sorry.” He tried his best to choke back the tears.
Omar shook his head, but it was too late. His face crumpled. “C’mere,” he croaked, grabbing Anthony and pulling him close. “I don’t ever wanna lose you.”
“It would kill me if you died,” he confessed while clinging to him.
“No way. I need you to stay alive to make sure that sort of thing doesn’t happen to me.” Omar released him and nodded toward the cemetery. “I don’t want to put my sister or my parents through that. Just dump my body somewhere they’ll never find it.”
“I’d rather eat you,” Anthony said. “So you’d always be a part of me.”
“But you’re a vegetarian!”
Anthony shrugged. “Like I said… I’d do anything for you.”
“You’re the best,” Omar pulled him into another hug. “You know that? I love you, man.”
“I love you too,” Anthony replied.
The confession made his heart break, as always, but it was the sort of pain that he never wanted to live without.
— — —
Frankenstein was up on the hydraulic lift, Diego pacing beneath to check what needed to be done, now that he had removed the damaged panels.
The good news was that his initial assessment, conducted in the dark of night while the cops were bearing down on him, had been correct.
The bad news was that the whole damn subframe needed to be replaced, assuming he couldn’t straighten it out.
He would have to put in overtime to get it done by the end of the month but had plenty of motivation.
Ricky kept complaining about the cold, and Mindy could no longer hitch a ride with them to and from school.
That sucked. Diego always liked seeing her.
He wouldn’t have much time for anyone until the work was done.
Which was a bummer, but also a reminder of just how much had changed.
Not too long ago, Diego had been working himself to the bone just to keep the business going.
Now they had reliable help—enough hired mechanics that he actually had time to be in plays and hang out with friends.
Life was relatively good. Which made him nervous, because he wasn’t used to having anything to lose.
Fate would inevitably find a way of screwing him over again, but while it lasted, he might as well enjoy the ride.
Once he got his own ride repaired, that is. Diego resumed working, momentarily distracted when a customer pulled up and parked. At an angle. He already knew why because he recognized the car. Diego wiped his hands on a rag and left the shadows of the garage.
Troy stepped out of his car and shielded his eyes against the winter sun. “Hey!” he said like they were old friends.
“Hey,” Diego replied without warmth. “What do you want?”
“This is where you bring a car to get it repaired, right?”
“For most people, yeah. But not you.”
Troy licked his lips nervously and moved closer. “Listen, I don’t want to risk taking my car to any other shop. They’ll ask too many questions. I don’t know if the cops are on the lookout for a vehicle that matches mine. How’d you get away from them, anyway?”
“By the skin of my teeth.”
“No harm done then. Yet. My parents will be back in town at the end of the week, and my dad will flip out when he sees the damage. I need you to do the work before then.”
Diego shrugged. “Too bad.”
“I’ve got money.”
“It’ll take more than that.”
Troy narrowed his eyes. “I’ll owe you one.”
“You already do for getting your car running before the cops showed up.”
“You did that to save yourself!”
“Nice talking to you.” Diego started to turn around.
“Wait! What do you want?”
“Concede the race.”
Troy made a face. “You didn’t win!”
“Neither did you. I just want the prize. No more screwing with my friends. You or that pack of shitheads you run with.”
Troy gritted his teeth and thought about it. “I won’t mess with you or your little boyfriend anymore. How about that?”
“I can handle myself,” Diego replied. “So can he. I want you to stay away from Omar. Anthony too.”
Troy sneered at the suggestion. “Why do you have such a boner for him anyway?”
Diego tossed the rag aside and raised his fists. “Or we can settle this the old-fashioned way.”
Troy took a step back. “Can you get it done before the end of the week?”
“Yup.”
Even then the asshole had to think about it.
“Why do you have such a hard-on for Anthony?” Diego challenged. “That’s the real question.”
“Hilarious,” Troy spat. “Fine. You’ve got a deal.”
“Say it.”
“What?”
“Promise me.”
Troy huffed before finally relenting. “I won’t mess with Anthony or Omar anymore. My friends won’t either. I promise.”
Diego held out a hand. With his palm facing up. He knew better than to shake hands with the devil. “Give me the keys.”
Troy complied. “How am I supposed to get home?”
“Don’t ask me,” Diego replied, jerking a thumb over his shoulder. “My car is in the shop.” He tilted his head toward the front office. “You can call a taxi. Or one of your friends. I’ll drop the car off when it’s ready. I don’t want you coming out here again. Ever.”
“Fine with me,” Troy grumbled as he walked away.
Diego watched him go. Then he returned to the garage, considered Frankenstein, and sighed. “Sorry, big guy. I’ve gotta put you on ice for a few days. But it’s for a good cause.”
Assuming, of course, that Troy could be trusted.