Piragi Recipe

 

Chapter 1

Caroline pulled her coat tighter as the cold wind cut through her thin jacket. It had been years since she visited the Indiana and she was no longer used to the March air. Her home was 7 hours south in Kentucky where the temperatures still dipped at night, but it she could feel the warmth on her face in the day. As she thought about it, Caroline realized the current conditions were perfect because today was the day she attended her childhood friend’s funeral.

                “I hate these things,” Caroline thought as she scanned the other faces that gathered around the coffin. Most people were starting at the mahogany box as if they were waiting for something to happen, as if this was a magic trick and someone would yell, “abracadabra” and suddenly Lisa would jump out as if it was all a trick.

                “Wouldn’t be the first time” she muttered under her breath. She quickly looked around to see if anyone heard her, but thankfully, the priest was droning on about what a wonderful woman Lisa was and how she was so good and generous. Caroline pulled the coat collar closer to her mouth as she didn’t want anyone to see her sneer at the words.

                “Didn’t think I’d see you here,” a voice whispered next to her. Most people would have jumped, but Caroline was rarely surprised anymore. She cast a sideways glance and immediately recognized the man standing next to her.

                “Where else would I be, Carl,” her voice was as icy as the wind.

                “Far away from this place.”

                Caroline turned her head to get a better look at the man standing next to her. He got tall, was her first thought. He was dressed in black slacks and a long black coat with knit cap covering his head. The red hair peaked out under it.

                “Well you haven’t turned all grey, yet. But you look like a damned funeral director,” nothing in her voice hid her disapproval.

                “That’s good, I am one,” Carl whispered.

                Caroline couldn’t tell if he was kidding or not, but as she thought about it, she realized it didn’t matter.

                “Whatever you say, Carl,” and her eyes returned back to the others. She noted that some of them were looking at them both, silently chastising them for breaking the heavy silence always reserved for honoring the dead.

                Carol and Caroline stood there silently for the rest of the time as the priest spoke. It was pure muscle memory when Caroline genuflected at the end of the ceremony. She could not remember the last time she had done that and kind of hated she still remembered how.

                Silently the couple stood there and they watched as mourners gathered around the Lisa’s mother. Caroline reflected how old and frail she looked, but then again she had not seen Shelley Lancaster in 20 years, when her parents decided to move her from the small town.

Lisa was considered Shelley’s “miracle” baby, the baby that was never supposed to happen. Shelley was told she could never have children, and yet she proved that to be lie when she became pregnant in her mid-40s.

                “A parent should never bury a child,” Carl said absently.

                Caroline gave a harsh and short scoff. She wanted to say more, but she saw Shelley waving them over. Part of her wanted to ignore the old woman beckoning them, to chill her out as much as the weather had chilled Caroline.

A memory suddenly overwhelmed her…she was 7 years old, sitting at the diner counter with her friends, Lisa and Tina. Shelley was working and gave them each a slice of pie and some milk. She shook her finger at the girls and said, “now listen if I get a call from your teacher about blueberry pie stains on your homework again, I’m going to make you mop the floor.” Shelley winked and smiled at the girls and went to help a customer and the girls giggled. They knew Shelley would never do a thing like that to them.

                By the time she got to Shelley, Carl had her in a deep embrace and she heard, “I’m so sorry, a parent should never bury a child.”

                He was practicing what to say, Caroline thought. He was always good like that, he was always prepared.

                Well almost always, she corrected herself.

                “Oh my sweet, Caroline,” Shelley said in a wavering voice, “my dear, dear girl.”

                The tears that spilled down her cheeks were unexpected, in fact, Caroline could not remember the last time she cried.

                “Shelley,” her voice was now husky with emotions, “I’m sorry. Lisa was so young.”

                The old woman only nodded and clutched Caroline with more strength than the younger woman expected.

                “Come to the house,” Shelley said.

                “No, really I…have to go soon…”

                “Nonsense, you do not. My only daughter only dies once and you will come to my house for a visit.”

                The bluntness dried up any further discussion and Shelley nodded that the silence meant acceptance.

                “I will see you both within an hour. Don’t bother knocking, my house has always been open to you kids and it always will be.”

                Caroline and Carl watched her turn and walk away towards an old car. They watched her get in and drive away.

                “So why are you here?” Carl asked as they watched the car drive out of the cemetery.

                “To make sure the bitch is really dead this time.” There was no humor in the voice.

                They both turned toward the coffin as it rested on the straps that would lower it into the ground.

                “Do you think she is in there,” Caroline asked.

                “I know she is, I put her in there myself.”

                “How do I know you aren’t in on it this time?”

                “Do you want me to describe the procedure. How I drained the body of fluids, how I stuck the needle in her so she could be filled with embalming fluid? Do you want to hear how I had to instruct the make-up artist to redo the face as much as she could, so it didn’t look like her head was partially caved in? How we picked a wig to cover the damage.”

                “I hope her death was agonizing. I hope the last thing she thought of was Tina and everything she did to her. I hope she is burning in hell right now.”

                “Try not saying that to Shelley when you visit, she’s been through enough,” was all Carl said as he left the gravesite and went to his car. Caroline didn’t even hear the car pull away as she glared at the coffin. The cold no longer bothered her as she felt her rage burn.

                “You fucking bitch. You better be in there,” Caroline’s said loudly, no longer worried people would hear her. “It’s a pity you are being buried to close to Tina, you don’t deserve to be this close to her. I told you I would hate you until you died, well it turns out I lied. I will hate you until I die!”

                Caroline kicked the coffin and then spit on it. Then she kicked it again.

                “You ruined my innocence, you ruined my life. Hell is too good for you,” Caroline said as she turned away and walked to her car. As she sat in the driver’s seat, she screamed “Fuck her fuck her fuck her” as she hit the steering wheel over and over again. The rage slowly seeped away and Caroline felt good enough to drive again.

                As she pulled out of the cemetery, a figure in a long black coat walked towards the coffin. A hand disappeared in a pocket and pulled out a handkerchief and wiped away Caroline’s saliva and tried to remove the scuff mark Caroline’s shoe had left. For a moment, the figure stood there with their head bowed, as if in silent prayer before is walked out of the cemetery.