“What did you just say?” I asked.
Arthur sighed impatiently.
“Charles, don’t make it harder than it already is. Rose’s gone. I have a right to move on.
“What about your daughters?”
He looked at them just a second.
“My girlfriend doesn’t want to raise three girls who don’t even like me. You’re his grandfather. If you care so much, then take them.”
The cemetery was silent.
Several relatives looked down.
The priest turned around.
For a moment, anger invaded me so fast that I could barely breathe.
Then April squeezed my fingers.
When I looked at the girls, my anger gave way to something heavier.
Lucy wasn’t crying.
He didn’t beg his father to stay.
I was simply watching him with an improper stillness of a twelve-year-old girl.
Then he looked at Rachel.
Rachel looked at April.
The three sisters exchanged a silent look.
No words.
No tears.
Just an understanding that stirred my stomach.
They knew something.
I knelt in front of them.
“They come home with me,” I said.
Arthur let out a chuckle.
“Perfect. Problem solved.”
He didn’t hug them.
He didn’t ask them if they had clothes, medicine or anything else they needed.
He simply walked into a white van parked in front of the cemetery entrance.
A young woman with huge sunglasses was waiting for him inside.
He smiled as he approached.
Arthur climbed up next to her and the van left without him looking back even once.
That night, my house was unbearably silent.
I warmed up soup, cut bread and prepared the room where Rose used to sleep when I was visiting.
Rachel slept with one of her mother’s old blouses.
April held my hand until the fatigue beat her.
Only Lucy remained awake.
