234
DON ZACHAR IA
thinkin'. Maybe if I wasn't takin' a shit just now, maybe if I was
lyin' on a beach somewheres in P.R., I would be relatin' to what
happened compl ete ly differently, but what the shit--
The deli man said in his day he had seen some orders, but this
was the number two of all time, topped only when H.D. the movie
mogul died, and how can you compare H.D. the movie mogul to
my dead wife, J? (Hands crossed, eyes tightly shut, whiter than
white, I saw her against everyone's wishes. I insisted they open the
coffin and I looked. How still she was.)
We ordered. My friends did the ordering; I wasn't doing any–
thing but trying to understand how my wife could die and the
whole world be alive. We ordered fifty pounds nova, twenty
pounds sturgeon, four turkeys, four roast beefs , one hundred rye
breads, eighty dozen mixed bagels, some with seeds and some with–
out, and meat loaf with garlic. It was all laid out on the dining
room table and when we go t back from the funeral everyone was
eating sandwiches and lox and bagels and drinking. Some local
police were directing traffic. Everyone was there. I walked in with
my son Pete, who looked around and said he was goi ng to his
room. I went up after him knocked and entered. He was watchin g
TV, an old "Star Trek ."
"I've seen this one six times."
"You must know the ending."
"Yes. I've neve r seen so many people in the house."
"It's a custom. An old one."
He flicked the TV stations around and settled back with
"Star Trek." "Do you want to sit up here with me and watch?"
"No. I have to go downstairs. Can I bring you a sandwich?"
"There's nothing there I like."
"God."
Downstairs my home was filled to capacity with people eat–
ing and drinking and laughing and talking. Everyone was very
solicitous of me. As I moved from room to room people would
press back clearing a path for me. I felt like the Pope. There were
an awful lot of people there whose faces looked familiar, but
whose names I didn't know. Every room was packed. I wondered
