Story -

My Diane....excerpt from the book 'My Diane'

My Diane....excerpt from the book 'My Diane'

They lowered her into the ground close to the crest of a small hill in a field that seemed ordinary to me. It was far from the sea, far from the rocks, and far from anything that was pleasant to look at. Some cemeteries were designed to look welcoming and even tranquil with manicured trees and picturesque gardens and benches to sit on, but St. Benedict Cemetery had none of these; it was built to bury the dead. Rows of old decaying tombstones were lined up on a field that reminded me of a cow pasture. Greenery was found in clumps of grass and rough-looking shrubs that grew under the shade of scattered rocks.

Jody walked up to me and collapsed on my chest. I returned her embrace and kept staring at the top of the coffin in the ground. Diane’s dad reverently heaved dirt on it, using a brand-new shovel. He kept piling on dirt until the shiny wood was covered over. Veins in his forehead suddenly appeared and sweat ran down his face. In his black-vested suit with his dishevelled white hair, he reminded me of one of those angry television preachers screaming at all the church people. But only moaning sounds came from his mouth, rage from deep within venting to the surface. Each shovelful of dirt was an act of protest. He suddenly stopped and gave the shovel to a young, strong-looking man who waited patiently for him to release his grip. Then he backed into his wife’s embrace without displaying grief. Holding his head even to the ground with a stiff upper lip, he stared at the hole, seemingly with defiance. No tears would fall from him today; it was all he could do.

Jody kept comfortably pressed against me. It was the first time we had shown any affection toward one another. I was glad that I was there for her. Someone other than Diane’s mom was reaching out to me and allowing me to share in their sorrow. I had never held an embrace for so long. At a funeral, you could embrace someone for a long time, and in an airport, you could kiss someone for a long time. I kept reassuring myself that we were not participating in unusual behaviour.

“You’re going back home tomorrow?” she said. The question seemed out of context with the moment.

“No. I’m staying for a few days. My brother has to get to work early Monday morning. So I’ll have to drive back solo. I’ll need to rest up for that.” I felt I had to lie about why Timmy had really left.

She looked up at me but kept holding on. I was avoiding looking at her for the day. With no punk-rock black makeup on and wearing normal clothes, she was a head-turner. I kept seeing Diane’s disapproving glances at the church every time I looked too long at her.

“You’re leaving in a few days? Why the rush?”

“Why the rush? I originally planned to go back with my brother Timmy today. He took the plane instead, so that I could stay out here a few extra days. He misses his family. I think that had more to do with it.” I caught myself talking too much, but it felt good to tell her the truth. She was making me nervous holding me like she was. I kept looking around to see if anyone was taking note of us holding each other. The priest was leaving with his repetitious chanting, but the huddled mass still lingered silently, some throwing white roses, some handfuls of dirt.

“Why are you going back so soon?” she insisted.

“It’s where I live.” The truth was I had no other reason than that to drive back to Toronto. I had moved most of my stuff out of Diane’s house and into my brother’s basement, where I slept. I didn’t even have much of a job to go back to anymore. My shifts at the YMCA were few at best.

“I won’t see you again when you leave.”

“Jody, why are you …” I said. I was hearing the sound of my voice, but my thoughts were scattered.

“It’s so funny how that happens. You go somewhere that you really like, and you never want to leave, but you leave anyway, promising yourself that you’ll go back. But you never go back even though you really wanted to.”

Why is she talking like this? I kept asking myself. “I’ll come back one day. It’s pretty out here.”

“Do you miss Diane? I miss her so much. I was getting ready to come live with her in Toronto. She promised to come get me after I turned 18. She never did. I guess that’s never going to happen now.” She forced herself to smile.

“You don’t need Diane to leave here, Jody.”

“I know. But it would never be the same without her. I have my family here. I have my friends here. I don’t want to go there, now. Not without her.” She started crying again, not loudly like before but steady like she was pacing herself.

I didn’t want to push her away, but I wanted her to stop holding me. I was the source of her consolation. Her dress was loose fitting, and her firm stomach and pelvis were pressing against my groin. I turned myself away from the grave. Among the crying voices and final farewells, I stood with the crowd holding a sobbing Jody. I was fighting the impulse to push her away, but it seemed right, her need to be held. Her sister was now buried in the ground next to us, never to be seen again, never to be held again, and I was there for her. She needed to be held. Death was so ironic; how could a person be so animated one day and not the next? I missed Diane. I could see her face in my mind, smell her hair, touch her skin—feel the warmth of her body moving with me.

Jody suddenly jerked away from me and looked at me in surprise. She turned around and back to me again. After wiping her face with the inside of her right hand, she gave me a look that I could only interpret as understanding mixed with disappointment. I had gotten an erection. My thoughts were racing with fear. Just one word from her could’ve gotten me killed. I thought about running to the car. I gave Diane’s grave a look of apology. The mourners were starting to walk back to their cars.

I should’ve pushed her away earlier. What the hell was I thinking? I kept my distance from her, but my eyes were on her most of the day. I was fixated with her exposed cleavage, her pouting mouth, the way she walked. I avoided speaking to her or even making eye contact. Now I was stuck sitting on a cool tombstone, hunched over like I was on the toilet. Jody didn’t move far from me, but her back was turned. Intentionally or unintentionally, she was a shield between me and the crowd moving toward me in the path between the rows of tombstones. I just sat there, embarrassed, looking at the laces of my black shoes and the patchy grass, turning to the side to avoid getting bumped or stepped on. Out of the corner of my eye, I was horrified to see Elizabeth walking up to me, her arms reaching out for an embrace. That was my job today: hugging Jody and her mom. I still needed a minute or two for my physical situation to change so I kept sitting and pretending not to notice her. Jody saved the day by cutting in front and embracing her mother.

Excerpt from the book 'My Diane'  available at iuniverse.com, Penguin...

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Comments

author
Twisted Angel

Well written, the excerpt is fabulous, so intriguing...damn it I might have to buy it...pffft :)

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author
Christopher Correia

Twisted Angel, I like you and let's be friends...glad you like the excerpt from the book, you can buy it on Amazon, iuniverse, Random House...lots of places, I'm sure you'll like the rest of it as well...thanks for your cool comment...cheers nice English lady, lol

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author
Rose Sho

Beautiful story...Gripping write...couldn't stop reading until I got to the end...Well done Chris!

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author
Christopher Correia

thanks Rose, glad you liked, hope you enjoyed the other parts as well, cheers

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