venire alla mia scia; avremo il caff e ricordi

Come to My Wake; Well Have Coffee and Memories

It was a phone call that every single one of them dreaded, but it was certainly not
unexpected. Not anymore, of course; the fact that Neva Abesamis was dying had never
been hidden from those who loved her. Nevertheless, the truth still came as a shock to
them all.

I cant go there, Hecate Maravilla cried over the phone on the morning that

the news broke out. Well, I cant go there alone. You know me, Mog; Im scared
shitless of dead bodies.

Even if they happen to be old friends? Imogen de Ceniza asked, just slightly

amused by this admission of cowardice from a friend notorious for being unreasonably
brave and aggressive.

Oh, especially if they happen to be old friends or relatives! Hecates voice was

wobbly. Mog, we all knew this was going to happen. But why do I feel like I cant deal
with it?

Its natural, Heck, Imogen assured her. It happens. Tell you what: Ill come

pick you up say around 10? Nera said Neva would probably be ready for viewing by
then. Well go together; you neednt be afraid. And Heck: Neva loved you. You were
her baby sister; she spoilt you rotten when we were at uni, remember?

I know! Hecate was sobbing now. I know, Moggie. Thats why I cant see

her, why I dont think I can look at her. It wont be her; it wont be our Neva lying in that
box.

Imogen sighed and took a sip of her coffee. She agreed with Hecate, really; that

what they would see was just a waxen shell and not the person theyd grown up with.
But their presence at the wake would show their respect for the dead, their concern for
the living. It was necessary.

Buck up, Hecate, Imogen said, setting down her mug with an air of finality. Ill

see you around ten. If you cant do this for Neva, please do this for those she left
behind. Its proper.


+++

A death in the family is always a difficult thing, but the loss of a sibling hits harder than
most losses. The feeling is akin to having a limb cut off or, worse, some vital organ
ripped out of you. You feel that you yourself or, at the very least a part of you have
died; that you are broken beyond repair and, even if someone were to put the pieces
together, a vital part of you would be missing, never to be found.

This was how Nera Abesamis-Barrameda felt over the loss of her sister. Under

ordinary circumstances, Nevas death would have been painful enough. But Neva was
her twin and the ensuing grief was doubly intense.

You can look at her now, maam, the mortuary attendant said as he and an

assistant opened the coffin for viewing.

As per Nevas last wishes, she would be laid in state at home, in the family room

where she and her siblings spent so many happy hours with their parents. Her coffin
was very simple: pure white, no trim. Nera peered through the glass and managed a
small, tear-sodden smile. The mortuary beautician was really good: the body within
seemed like it had never been ravaged by cancer. The only true giveaway as what killed
her was the silken, Paisley-patterned kerchief wrapped around Nevas head,
chemotherapy having dunned her once magnificent hair.
Nevas cheeks, deeply sunken from chemotherapy and the inability to eat in the
final days, looked delightfully round again. The dark, almost black circles beneath her
eyes were artfully hidden beneath expertly applied make-up. Her forehead was smooth
for the first time in nearly a decade, the peace of death smoothing away the worried
creases that so marred it for the longest time.
And there was a smile on her lips and Nera knew that it had been there even
before the beautician got on the case. Her sister had died peacefully, gratefully, and
happily. How many people could claim such a blessing? It was a small ray of sunshine,
but Nera was thankful for it.

She looks good, Nera murmured to the mortuary attendants, smiling albeit

wanly. Our family will be pleased. Gratefully, she pressed sealed envelopes into their
hands. Thank you.

They murmured their thanks and their condolences and, seeing that all was in

order, packed up and left.

Wearily, Nera sank onto the old sofa in the corner and restlessly flipped through

the notebook her dead sister left in her care. Along with Nevas will, this notebook
contained all of her final wishes. The surviving Abesamis twins eyes widened at some
of them.

Madre di Dio! But some of these things... Nera shook her head. How typical of

Neva to keep dipping her dainty little fingers into other peoples lives even when her
own had ended!

Before her death, Neva insisted on several things. She demanded to be dressed

in her favourite outfit: a magnificent scarlet dress that she used to wear to power
meetings when she felt like intimidating bitchy clients. (It pays to be a bigger bitch,
darling, was what Neva used to say when anyone called her out on that frock.) Their
mother, normally a stickler for propriety, had agreed to this; she felt that it was the only
appropriate outfit for her darling daughter. She looked fabulous in it; che bellissima,
their Italian grandmother would have said. In contrast, however, everyone who planned
to attend the funeral had to wear black. Anyone who insisted on [shudders!] wearing
white would be indecorously chucked out of the ceremony physically if necessary.
Solo nero, per favore; nessuna lamentela.
Father Marcus de Ceniza, twin to their friend Imogen, would administer the final
rites and hear her last confession. Marcus would also be the celebrant and the funeral
Mass and the graveside ceremony. It was the request that tugged at Neras
heartstrings. Marcus and her sister dated when they were in high school. While the
relationship ended, the friendship only grew stronger over time. Marcus had been
Nevas strongest support in the final months; it was but fitting that he would remain by
her side till the very end.

Marcuss sister Imogen would be eulogist, having known the Abesamis girls since
elementary school; she was, after all, their best friend. Neva further declared that
Imogen would play violin at the funeral.

It was the next request that had Nera shaking her head. If Imogen was playing

violin, Neva wanted Nicholas Kairuz to sing. This was problematic: as far as Nera knew,
Imogen and Nicholas hadnt spoken to each other since they graduated from college!
As if that werent bad enough, she knew that they ended their school days as enemies.
Nera closed her eyes; she swore that she could almost hear the bitter words both had
uttered at the end, almost taste the beer that she and the girls had drunk the night they
kept a furious Imogen from going home lest she hurt herself or anyone else. Dark days,
indeed.

But what could she do? It was what her sister wanted, one of her final wishes.

And Nera promised Neva she would accede to her demands to the last letter. She only
hoped that there wouldnt be any casualties when it was all over.

+++

Hecate was trembling as they were led inside the Abesamis family home, just on the
threshold of the living room.
I cant do this, she muttered fretfully.

Imogen regarded her sympathetically. She clapped a hand on her friends

shoulder and declared bravely, Im with you; we can do this.

Taking Hecate by the hand, Imogen drew a deep breath and led the way into the

room. The scent of white jasmine was heavy in the air and the first person they saw
within was Nevas twin sister Nera silently arranging those pale flowers upon the white
coffin. Around them, surrounding the catafalque, were wreaths of startling beauty from
sympathetic friends and former colleagues of the deceased.

Still shaking, Hecate sank into the nearest chair. But Imogen walked down the

length of the room, catching Neras eye. The latter stopped what she was doing and
wailed as she drew forward to embrace the newcomer.

Shes gone, she sobbed; Imogen could feel her body shaking violently,

releasing grief she must have hidden from their parents and siblings earlier. Sod it,
Moggie; shes gone.

Imogen patted her back, not quite sure as to what she could say. All the usual

platitudes on grief and sympathy seemed meaningless no matter how sincerely they
were put.

She went peacefully, Nera finally managed to say once the storm of weeping

passed. She murmured her thanks as Imogen handed her a handkerchief. Your
brother was here till the very end last night, she said, dabbing at her eyes. He never
left her side.

You know Marcus, Imogen said, leading her to the sofa. He would never let

her down.

And he never did, Nera assured her. Your brother held her hand long after

the stopped speaking and she closed her eyes for the last time.

Just like him.

Hecate finally mustered up her courage and went to hug Nera. Ner, Im sorry to

hear about Neva, she mumbled.

Thanks, Heck, Nera replied gratefully. She gestured towards the coffin. Go

give her a look; she wanted to get gussied up, so we gave her what she wanted.

Imogen nodded and walked up to the coffin. She smiled and managed a faint

laugh at what she saw.

Hag, she murmured fondly, patting the coffin. You really wanted to leave in

that bloody frock of yours. Suits you; it wouldnt be you if they dressed you otherwise.

Would you believe one of our aunts wanted her to be dressed in a white

dress? Nera asked as she came to stand next to Imogen.

Id believe you. Which side, though? Your fathers, Ill bet. Those crazy Italians

on your mas side wouldve thrown a fit at the suggestion.

Got that in one. Papa went ballistic; he said no meddlesome sister-in-law of his

was going to throw her weight around. Nera grinned. He balked at the notion at first,
you know. But he came around; it wouldnt be Neva if she werent dressed in red.

How are they?

Papa and Mama? Theyre okay; they were prepared for the very worst. But

they still cant wrap their heads around the fact that shes finally left us. She sighed.
None of us can.

I dont blame you.

Hey, excuse me? a tenor voice asked from the direction of the doorway. When

they all turned, there was a tall young man there with a bunch of white roses in his
arms. Where can I put this?

Nicholas! they all exclaimed simultaneously. Nera stared in horror and stood

stock-still. Hecate looked unsure as to what to do and remained in her seat. Imogen,
however, went up and accepted the flowers and, in return, got a kiss on her cheek.

Just got here? Nicholas asked.

Yeah, Imogen replied. Heck came with me. The poor kids been wobbly all

this time. Come and say hi to the twins.

She led him to Nera who fondly embraced the newcomer. So good of you to

come, she murmured even as she took the flowers from Imogen and placed them on a
nearby table. She eyed them curiously, though.

Is something wrong? Imogen asked her.

I Nera looked first at her, then at Nicholas. I thought you werent on

speaking terms.

Nicholas Kairuz quirked an eyebrow at this. Why not? he asked. Were

friends, Nera. You know that.

Not me! Nera exclaimed. She jerked a thumb at her dead sister. Neva

probably did and, if she did, she never told me.

She did, Imogen assured her with a smile. She found out by accident.

By accident?

===

Five months before

Hey, what are you having? Imogen asked as she prepared to fall in line.

Flat white, Nicholas drawled sleepily, casually pushing his sunglasses to the

crown of his head. What are you having?

The same. Have you had breakfast?

Just a couple of pan de sal from the panaderia on the corner. You?

Nope; I left the house without eating. May as well grab something substantial.

Im going for the baked eggs with salmon and capers; we can split it. She eyed the caf
which was slowly beginning to fill up with people. Go snag us a table, Nicky.

Playfully, Nicholas gave her nose a tug. She swatted him off, but laughed

nevertheless. It was how they used to say goodbye when they were in college at least,
it was how they used to say goodbye before the troubles came.

Still trying to fix that nose of hers? a jolly yet tired-sounding voice declared.

Madre di Dio, but youd think you two were over that by now!

They saw a tall, very thin woman dressed in bold scarlet. Her head was artfully

wrapped in a vividly-patterned kerchief and massive silver hoops hung from her
earlobes. A casual observer would have assumed she was of late middle-age, but the
truth was that she was only in her late thirties. But while cancer had ravaged her
appearance, it had not quenched the unflappable spirit that was Neva Abesamis.

Nev! Imogen exclaimed, catching the newcomers hands in hers. Gods, but

Im glad to see you!

Likewise, Neva drawled, grinning wickedly. She looked up at Nicholas and

patted his shoulder. Jerking a thumb at him, she turned curiously back to Imogen.

Thought you two put an iron curtain between yourselves, she said. What the
excuse my French here fuck are you two doing together?

Typical Neva, Nicholas declared, rolling his eyes.

Were friends, Nev, Imogen replied simply.

Yeah, but only for the past five years, Neva remarked. On Facebook, if I may

add, so I dont know if that counts. She grinned when she saw the puzzled looks
mirrored on their faces. Im friends with you both on FB, and Ive always been a nosy
little bitch so I lurk and peek and see all your timeline conversations.
Busted, Nicholas murmured dryly to Imogen.
Bloody fucking hell, Imogen grunted in return.
Neva cackled with laughter at the exchange. Makes you wonder what miracle
occurred to make you two bury the fucking hatchet, she said.

Nothing, Nicholas said. She was a friend suggestion; so I went and added

her. She added me back; end of story.

Theres a goddamned fib, Nicky, Neva snorted as they made their way to an

empty corner table. You needed a fucking audience, so you reached out to each and
every ol classmate you could find on FB. Imogen had to laugh at the evil smirk on
Nevas face. Tell me Im wrong, ragazzo; tell me Im fucking wrong.

Well, youre partly right, Nicholas conceded rather sourly. It was kind of hard

to drum up support after the fallout five years ago.

Cant blame you, ragazzo. If it were me, though, Id have gone over to

Winstons house and torched the damned place with him inside, bastardo infido that he
was. The world would be a better place without him; God knows hes a lousy, two-bit
musician.

Amen! Imogen intoned gravely.

Neva, Nicholas chided her.

Allora, its fucking true! Neva declared, staring full into Nicholass stricken face.

All the magic went out of Spindrift when that half-wit took over. You were the brains

of the fucking outfit and Mr. I-got-shit-for-brains decides he wants the business for
himself va, va, va! And now hes bitching because no ones listening to him.

Can we not talk about this, Nicholas said, casting a warning glance at her.

Va bene, Neva conceded. But she grinned at them. You will, however,

explain how it is you two are hanging out together, yeah?

Imogen gulped nervously at this. Uh, I think Ill go place an order at the

counter, she said, quickly turning. Want anything, Nev?

Oh, a latte macchiato, Neva replied gratefully. One of the last coffee drinks I

can stand, alas, though God knows Id rather have a doppio espresso. Thanks, Mog.

When she returned, she found Neva laughing rather raucously and Nicholas

looking redder than a ripe tomato.

Whats up? she asked, sliding into the cushioned bench next to Neva.

Nothing, Neva replied, but her smile was wicked. She slid a glance at Nicholas.

Just pumping our friend here for juicy deets about his love-life.

You have a love-life? Imogen demanded of him, mock-seriously. You never

told me!

Whats there to tell you? Nicholas snapped indignantly. Theres nothing to

tell; its non-existent, Mog!

I know, she assured him, cheerfully patting his arm. I was just pulling your

leg.

Oh, but he wishes you were pulling something else, Neva teased. But her

laughter suddenly broke off and gave way to a tearing, wheezing cough, prompting
Imogen to thump her back. Thanks, Mog, she gasped.

Are you sure you should be up and about? Nicholas asked worriedly.

Tang ina, Nick; stop mothering me! Neva swore; but her voice was slightly

weaker. She drew a deep breath, closing her eyes as if to pull herself together. Nicholas
and Imogen looked at each other worriedly. But Neva seemed to bounce back. Im
okay.

Are you? Imogen demanded. Are you really?

Neva regarded them both, then sighed. I could never lie to either of you, she

conceded. Truth is, I havent got much longer left. Thats why I asked to be sent home
from the hospital. Im trying to enjoy every single second I still got while I can still walk.
Well, wobble, anyway. She glared at them. And, to answer that question you two are
itching to ask, I didnt drive over. My mama took me here and I opted to grab a bite
while she did the groceries. She tilted up her face; a brave gesture marred only by the
trembling of her lips. A few months, she admitted, her voice scarcely above a
whisper. Ill manage to make it through Christmas and New Year; hell, Ill even manage
to squeeze in one last Valentines Day. Not so sure about Ash Wednesday, though; I
might be gone by then.

Aw, Nev! Nicholas sighed.

Imogen wordlessly hugged her, but grief was written all over her face.
Sod it, Moggie, Neva chided her. Dont look so damned glum. Hang it all,

amica, be fucking happy for me. Itll be over. Nothingll hurt anymore. She managed a
wry smile. Of course, I wont be around for the next batch of weddings and bullshit,
but remember me fondly when the lot of you idioti get hitched and have brats.

Thats kind of too late in the day for me, Imogen said with a thin smile.

Neva shot her a sharp glance, then as if she saw something in her friend

threw her head back, laughing. Never say die, amica, Neva assured her. Keep living,
keep loving; thats what I say even if I am dying.

Youll live to be a hundred, Nicholas told her gravely.

Ay, tang ina, no! Wouldnt want to even if I had the chance! No, Nicky; its

better this way. But, that in mind, I want to ask a favour from you two and, if you
choose not to grant me this, I will haunt you till your dying day.

Anything, Imogen assured her.

Im with her on this, Nicholas said, nodding. Whatd you have in mind?

Neva seemed to go from brassy and brash to calm, gentle, even pleading. She

grasped their hands in hers and regarded them both most sincerely.

10

Come to my wake, she asked them. Come to my wake, please. I dont fucking

care how busy either of you are going to be, just come to my fucking wake. Do say
youll come; I promise: well have coffee and Lord knows theres a shit-ton of memories
people will want to bring up.

Imogen sighed at this and Nicholas simply nodded.

You dont have to ask, you know, Imogen said. Wed come. Well stay for the

coffee hell, wed stay even if no one served anything.

Nicholas was in earnest when he spoke. Nyeta, well laugh at you in your
goddamned coffin if your bloody relatives choose to dress you in some First
Communion-style dress thatll totally clash with your personality, he managed to laugh.
Well laugh, then well cry and wonder how wed get on without you.
Why? Neva demanded of them.
Nicholas groaned at this and Imogen rolled her eyes. Finally, the latter lightly
cuffed Neva upside the head.
Why? she said. Because, you sodding bitch, youre our goddamned friend and
things wont ever be the same when youre gone.

Silently, Neva nodded and squeezed their hands before letting go. Thats all I

wanted to hear, she murmured. Thats what I needed to hear. Thank you. She
smiled warmly at them. Thank you both.

+++

The last memory I will ever have of Neva is of watching her gulp down a mug of coffee
with gusto, with verve.

And she relished that coffee, you know. Drank it to the final drop. I only found

out a few days ago from Nera that Nev stopped drinking coffee not too long after that.
Hell, she even left off on tea, for crying out loud.

Nicholas sat at the back of the room on the final night of the wake. Mr. and Mrs.

Abesamis sat in the front row with their children: three sons and their wives, Nera and

11

her husband. Relatives from both sides of the family sat on opposite ends of the room:
the staid and starchy relations on the Abesamis side and the vibrant, verbose Cerrudos
whose part-Italian heritage shone through.

Friends from Nevas childhood, from their shared time at university, and from

her years in advertising were also there. Some wept, others tried to keep a brave face
on. Others, like Imogen who was currently delivering her eulogy, remained dry-eyed;
but their grief was there, an elephant in the room. Present. Oppressive. But,
nevertheless, unacknowledged at the moment.

Dont be afraid to break down, Nicholas thought as he listened to Imogen. Im

here. Neva will understand

Truth be told, he worried about Imogen. He wondered how she could be so calm

under the circumstances: her oldest friend dead at 38. Even her normally cooler-than-a-
cucumber twin brother had broken down several times during the necrological service.
Even friends of theirs from college who were known hard-core, almost unfeeling bitches
wept copiously. Hell, worrying about Imogen was probably the only thing that kept him
from bawling his eyes out.

Neva taught us, Imogen went on, that life goes on. Keep living, keep loving

those were her last words to me.

Not quite, Nicholas thought, smiling. But close enough.

Ill take what she said to heart, Imogen said, winding down her talk, patting the

coffin behind her rather affectionately. But things wont be the same. I wont have my
crazy, brutally frank, foul-mouthed, golden-hearted friend around anymore. She
sighed. I can never replace her; none of us will ever be able to replace her. There was
no one like her and I, for one, am proud that I got to be her friend.

There was applause, some cheers, a few whistles from the audience. Imogen

embraced Nevas grieving parents and Nera; quietly shook hands with the brothers and
their wives. She passed by her twin brother who rose and took her hand. Nicholas
noted that she did not return to her seat; instead, the de Cenizas made a beeline for
him.

12

Lets go, Imogen said, her voice tight and strained.

Nicholas blinked, then turned to Father Marcus in puzzlement. Marcus just

shrugged and inclined his head.

Better do as she says, he murmured.

Nicholas nodded and followed them outside.

Get in the car, boys, Imogen said, sliding into the drivers seat of her car.

Where are we going? her brother asked as he got into the front passenger seat

and Nicholas in the back.

Were going to grab a drink, Imogen replied, her tone brooking no nonsense.

Ill drop you off at your parish if you dont want to come along.

If youre planning to get plastered, I think youd better drop me off.

No, were not going to get drunk, Imogen assured him. Were going to grab

coffee or something. She sat back, closed her eyes, and breathed deeply. God knows
I cant get plastered; not tonight.

They drove in silence to a small third-wave caf that stayed open till the wee

small hours of the morning. They were the only customers and they could have sat
anywhere, but Imogen chose a corner booth and sat alone on one side while the boys
sat on the other. It was only then that Nicholas saw how pale and drawn she was.
Quickly, he moved over to her side.

Youre not all right, he said. It was a statement, not a question. Imogen

nodded mutely, looking miserable. Nicholas sighed and motioned for a waiter to
approach.

Flat whites all around, he said.

And better bring on the cannoli, Marcus added grimly. He turned to Nicholas.

I saw you didnt have supper at the Abesamises.

Neither did you, Nicholas said.

In that case, a bagel platter wont come amiss. Yeah, well have that and the

cannoli.

13

When the waiter had gone, Imogen suddenly wailed and the tears that had failed

to fall now fell in a torrent.

Oh, Nev! she cried, allowing Nicholas to take her into his arms. Nicky, Nicky!

Shes gone; shes really gone!

Nicholas rested his chin on the crown of her head and closed his eyes. She

hadnt called him by his nickname in years; even when they reconnected, it was always
Nicholas, never just Nicky.

But a dam seemed to have broken inside Imogen and, along with her grief at

losing her oldest friend, the old fondness rose again from the depths. Her anger seemed
to have dissolved, lost or possibly soothed, assuaged by deeper, more honest
emotions.

He held her. Out of the corner of his eye, Nicholas noted that Marcus, too, was

in tears.

Neva had told them not to weep at her death, not to be glum at her passing. But

that, alas, was asking for the impossible.

By the time the coffee arrived, they had all calmed down and Imogens head

rested companionably on Nicholass shoulder.

To Neva, Marcus declared, raising his cup to his lost love. Nicholas felt that not

even the whole Roman Catholic Church could ever replace her in Marcuss heart, but
also knew that Marcus would channel his grief into becoming a better priest a better
man than he already was. There were none like her and there will be none like her.

To Neva, both Imogen and Nicholas replied, clinking their cups with his and

drinking deeply of the rich, milky brew.

So what happens now? Nicholas asked as he set down his cup.

I dont know, Imogen replied, honestly. But her smile was gentle. But I cant

wait to find out.

Nicholas smiled at this and knew, for some strange reason, that this was just the

beginning of everything.

14