Red Hats Read Online Free PDF Page B

buried in the pillow like that. Alma moved to the bed and gave him a shake.
    “Harold, wake up! Wake up, damn it!”
    She turned him over. His face was blue. She touched his forehead, and his skin felt clammy.
    “Harold? Oh, God! Harold! Wake up!” Alma cried.
    Harold was dead, and she knew it. He wasn’t breathing. His eyes weren’t moving the way they did when she checked some nights.
    “Harold, please wake up. I’m sorry! I won’t talk to you like that anymore. Please wake up, Harold. Don’t leave me. Please don’t leave me! I’m so sorry. I promise I’ll be a better wife!”
    Alma climbed onto the bed, next to him, and cried.

chapter
four
    The week leading up to
the funeral had been the longest of Alma’s life. Waiting for the autopsy results was almost as emotionally draining as finding Harold’s lifeless body. Coronary thrombosis was the verdict, due to arrhythmias. A heart attack, go figure!
    Why did this have to fall on me? It’s hard enough to lose someone you love, then there’s the funeral arrangements, picking out a coffin, and, worst of all, calling family and friends to relate the bad news.
She felt most people were thinking,
Good for you, Alma, serves you right!
They wanted to see her suffer. That’s why they all showed up, to see her in misery.
    In the pews behind her, she could hear whispering. She couldn’t make out exactly what they were saying, but thesnippets that did slip through stabbed her already broken heart.
    “I’m surprised he lasted this long, all she put him through,” a woman whispered too loudly behind her.
    Angel held her hand tightly enough to restrain Alma from turning around and spitting fire at her accuser. Alma was grateful to have her daughter by her side to get her through all the pain.
    “Your daddy is gone,” she had sobbed into the phone. On the other end of the line, she could hear what sounded like a wounded animal caught in a steel trap.
    Angel put Alma before her own feelings of loss, and Alma was thankful. She had jumped on the next plane to come be with her momma. She had always been a daddy’s girl, so helping her mother do all the things you have to do for the dead was a way of expressing devotion to the man who loved, chastised, and validated her. Through her tears, Angel had found time to cook an assorted spread for the reception that would follow the funeral. It reminded Alma of the last meal she had cooked for Harold. She hoped never to see another macaroni and cheese in her life!
    Bob and Seymour had spread the news that Sweet Love was officially over—their best friend was gone. Alma had slept in the living room, not wanting to enter the bedroom again. Angel had taken her to the doctor for more antianxiety medication, fearing her mother was on the precipice of a nervous breakdown. Alma wished the drugsthe doctor gave her were stronger. She wanted to drown out the voice in her head that had wished Harold would die in his sleep.
    She wanted to be numb like Jesse, who sat in the front row with a stupid look on his face from the reefers or whatever else he smoked. She had almost asked him to light her up a joint so she could justify exactly how surreal this situation was. Lord knew she didn’t have any more tears to cry. She wondered where this reserve of salt water had come from. Was it the slide show on her wall of memories, she and Harold playing against their favorite songs? Songs like “Call Me” by Aretha Franklin, Al Green’s “Let’s Stay Together,” and “When a Man Loves a Woman.” Gotta love Percy Sledge. This was the song Harold had dedicated to Alma after their first big fight twenty-something years ago.
    The fight had happened right after Todd was born. Harold kept complaining the baby was stinking. They both smelled it, but the source of the funk couldn’t be found. After changing his diaper several times, wiping every crack and crevice in his wrinkled little behind, Alma became irritated at Harold’s accusations of her