They drive just a little way across town, a slow parade of cars with little black flags, Tandar riding up front. They drive through red lights and the people on the street stop to watch. The church isn't far from the funeral home. They file in through the black metal gate, along tiny roads to an awning that stand over his open grave. The hearse stops on the grass next to the plot, and all the cars pull off the road here and there.
Tandar's parents asked Joshua and some of Tandar's college friends to carry the coffin with his brother Vinod. The undertaker speaks with them a little and the six boys hoist the box, leaning away from it, stepping unevenly toward the grave. There are big planks along the sides of the hole for them to walk on, and they set the coffin down on taut straps across the opening. And not much more is said. Ashes to ashes, says the reverend, and Molly Garrett's mom cries and hugs Tandar's mother, and then everybody lines up to sprinkle a handful of dirt over the casket. Joshua hangs back until most everyone is done, and he doesn't wipe the dirt off of his hand.
There will be refreshments in the church, and Tandar's mother grips Joshua by the arm and tells him he should come along inside, and he says, in a little bit. He watches as the coffin is lowered. Then he walks past his little car, across the lane, to pick his way between the headstones. Slowly he closes the distance, long thin coat over his suit, wet grass on his shoes, and at last he settles himself on the ground in front of the low grey stone that says MOLLY AMANDA GARRETT, 1969-1977.
His head is bent and he rests on one knee, and for a long moment it seems impossible that he won't lift his head and say, Milady. But when he does clear his throat to speak, he says: "Molly. I guess I ought to be the first to tell you."
He's so sweet.