This One and Magic Life Read Online Free PDF Page B

him.
    â€œHektor!”
    â€œMa’am?”
    â€œFor God’s sake, Hektor. Wake up!” Mariel’s voice has the shrillness of exhaustion in it.
    â€œI’m sorry,” Hektor says politely. Mariel begins to cry. Dolly pats her shoulder.
    â€œWell, it was Miss Sullivan’s wish. She was very specific about it. She wanted her ashes sprinkled in the bay.” Mr. Brock leans back in the Queen Anne chair. “Though that may not be legal. I really haven’t run into this before.”
    Her ashes? Hektor’s fingers tighten on May’s scalp. Artie wanted to be cremated?
    â€œMy mother is right. We can’t do it,” Dolly says.
    Cremated? Hektor clears his throat and agrees. “Of course not.”
    â€œWell, legally I guess you don’t have to, but it says right here,” Mr. Brock pushes his glasses up on his nose and reads, “ ‘I request that my brother Adonis have my body cremated and that he broadcast my ashes onto the waters of Mobile Bay on the day he deems perfect.’ ”
    â€œBut that doesn’t make a grain of sense,” Mariel says, wiping her nose on a Kleenex. “Donnie and I have already picked out the casket, and I’ve already sent her yellow linen dress to the funeral parlor and told them we’d have viewing and the rosary tomorrow night and the funeral the next morning. Ordered the flowers.”
    â€œShe wanted me to do what?” It’s the first time Donnie has spoken.
    â€œHave her cremated,” Mr. Brock says again.
    â€œNo. The rest of it.”
    â€œHere.” Mr. Brock hands Donnie the paper. Donnietakes it to the window and reads it. The room is quiet except for Mariel’s sniffling and the hum of the air conditioner. The sun touches the water.
    Mr. Brock glances at his watch. He needs to get back to Mobile to feed his wife her supper. He is the only one she will eat for, opening her mouth like a little bird while he spoons in custard or pureed vegetables. “Don’t leave me,” he says, pushing food in until it runs down the sides of her mouth. “Don’t leave me.”
    â€œI’m sorry I couldn’t get here earlier today,” he says, running his hand across his bald head, watching Donnie.
    â€œIt would have helped,” Mariel says.
    â€œMy wife is very ill.”
    No one says anything.
    â€œShe’s dying.”
    â€œI’m sorry,” Dolly says.
    Hektor sighs. Death. There is entirely too much of it. More all the time.
    â€œI handled your grandparents’ estate,” Mr. Brock says to Dolly. “Got everything worked out without a hitch.”
    â€œThat’s nice.”
    The sun falls rapidly into the water. From the kitchen they hear voices, Mrs. Randolph and Kelly Stuart.
    Donnie, looking at the sun, is thinking he should have known Artie would want cremation.
    â€œHere, write it down,” Mrs. Randolph says. “It’ll work for any fruit, but peaches are best. You got to use butter, though. That’s the secret. And a hot oven.”
    Donnie turns from the window. “We’ll do what she wants.” There is a collective sigh.
    â€œWell,” Mr. Brock says, “there’s just one more problem. There’s not a crematorium in Mobile. You’ll have to take her to Birmingham or Tallahassee.”
    â€œOh, my God,” Mariel moans. She knows good and well that Artie knew about the crematorium. “You don’t have to do this, Donnie. Everything’s all set here.” She turns to Dolly. “We took her yellow linen dress.”
    â€œWell,” says Mr. Brock, “she’ll have to wear something to Birmingham.”
    â€œOh, my God!”
    â€œI’ll take her,” Donnie says. “Thank you, Mr. Brock.”
    â€œYou’re welcome, Donnie. I’ll go on and get the will probated. You know Dolly gets the house. Most everything else, too.” Mr. Brock looks around for the