I can't believe it, Peter. Now that everything is quiet, I have to tell you. I can't keep this inside me. Now it's three o'clock in the morning. No one will hear us. There is only your sister, your daughter Mary and me, but they sleep outside. The rest have gone to rest. What have I to tell you? Wait for me to take it out, I have it here in my bag. Look. What is this? Yes, it's the page of the newspaper in which your obituaries appeared. I thought that only ours was going to come out, but what was my surprise when I saw another one dedicated to you and, on top of that, half a page and bigger than ours.
I repeat, I can't believe it. I read that obituary over and over and I still don't understand it. I've come to think it's a joke. I don't know, about some friend of yours, about those you were partying with, who wanted to be funny or about someone who doesn't like me well and wants to make me suffer even more in these painful moments. What does he say? He waits for me to read it to you. My voice trembles.
"My love, thank you for those seven years of passion, love and happiness. Your beloved Elizabeth forever. I will never forget you, Pe."
Yes, as you hear it. An insult. When they brought her to me I didn't know where to put me. Your daughter Mary became like a beast, but then she calmed down. You know what they say: the procession goes inside. You have no idea how embarrassed I have been sitting here, being the one to make me laugh at the morgue. Some neighbors looked at me strangely, as if taking pity on me. I don't need pity or understanding.
I'm going to incinerate you.Verything will be faster. Less pain and less shame. Can you imagine that we would have taken you to the village to bury you? I don't even want to think about it. The whole town talking about your adventure, about what a son of a bitch you've been and about the horns that reach the second floor. I know that. You wanted us to bury you with your parents, but I changed my mind. After what you did to me with that one, what did you want? To take you in procession to the cemetery? No way. When I saw the obituary, it was clear to me. I called the funeral home and asked them if the burial could be exchanged for incineration. They told me there was no problem.
They're even going to give me some money back because the coffin will come out cheaper. Besides, I'm not going to order the stamps for the funeral mass because you don't deserve it. I'm even thinking about not doing mass for you so you can stay in purgatory for all eternity, but I know your daughter Mary won't let me. She loved you very much, she even defended you when she found out that you had had a mistress. Men's things, she told me. A bastard thing, I replied. I also told them that we should close the room and come tomorrow morning, about nine o'clock, but your sister screamed in the sky. Of course, it brings to her that you've cheated on me. Maybe she even knew it. Who knows?
Now that I've told you, I'm calm. I had thought of mourning you for a while, but since you are burned, I will turn the page. A dead king, king put and I'm going to recover all the time I lost attending you like a fool. Ah, I forgot to tell you, your friend Mark, yes Mark who was going home to drink the wines. He always looked at me with good eyes. I knew it, but I let it go. He's comforting me very well and I think I'm going to let myself be loved for once.
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