This story I have to tell you has to be true because even I couldn't make up this whopper. And, Mother's wake - packed to the rafters with the well dressed curious and the well heeled sorrowful - may seem an insensitive place to begin, but here we are and it's all I can think about - that is, the progression of events that led up to this moment. I'm obsessing and entitled to it too. So would you.
Think about this. Do you know those pivotal moments in your life that you don't see coming? The ones you wished arrived with a timer going off so you'd know this is it! Well, when the phone rang in February, you couldn't have convinced me that six months later, Mother would be in "the box" and I'd be wearing her pearls, twisting them around my finger exactly like she used to do.
Oh, God, here comes Raoul. Excuse me for a moment.
"Mees Caroline, I want to express my deep sympathy to you in thees torrible time of you troubles."
He took my hands in his. His hands were callused but manicured.
"Thank you Raoul, thank you for coming." I said, thinking that he was actually rather handsome. He exuded something, I don't know, some masculine whatever.
She was very beautiful, your mother, and I will hold her een my heart forever."
"Thank you," I said, "I know she was very fond of you."
"Si," he said, a smile spreading across his face, "ees true."
He released my hands and walked away, back into the crowd. Mother slept with him? Well, why not?