it's very short and painless.'
He walked to a coat rack in the corner, took a black robe from it, and put it on.
'Come forward, you two,' he said, moving to the side of the room. 'The others can stand anywhere you like.'
Ma and I crowded behind the two of them. Eric had no family here. They were either in another state or in the Bahamas.
'No best man?' Ma whispered.
'I'm not traditional,' Eric said.
'That wasn't meant to be heard,' Ma said, almost as an apology.
'It's all right,' Eric said.
'Dearly beloved,' Judge Perez began. 'We are gathered here today to join this man and this woman in holy matrimony.'
Caroline's face, as I had known it, slowly began to fade, piece by piece, before my eyes. Another woman was setting in, a married woman, someone who was no longer my little sister.
'I, Caroline Azile, take this man to be my lawful wedded husband.'
I couldn't help but feel as though she was divorcing us, trading in her old allegiances for a new one.
It was over before we knew it. Eric grabbed Caroline and kissed her as soon as the judge said, 'Her lips are yours.'
'They were mine before, too,' Eric said, kissing Caroline another time.
After the kiss, they stood there, wondering what to do next. Caroline looked down at her ringer, admiring her wedding band. Ma took a twenty-dollar bill out of her purse and handed it to the judge. He moved her hand away, but she kept insisting. I reached over and took the money from Ma's hand.
'I want to take the bride and groom out for a nice lunch,' I said.
'Our plane leaves for Nassau at five,' Eric said.
'We'd really like that, right, Ma?' I said. 'Lunch with the bride and groom.'
Ma didn't move. She understood the extent to which we were unimportant now.
'I feel much better,' Caroline said.
'Congratulations, Sister,' I said. 'We're going to take you out to eat.'
'I want to go to the Brooklyn Botanic Garden to take some pictures,' Caroline said.
'All set,' Eric said. 'I have a photographer meeting us there.'
Ma said, 'How come you never told me you were leaving tonight? How come you never tell me nothing.'
'You knew she wasn't going back to sleep at the house with us,' I said to Ma.
'I am not talking to you,' Ma said, taking her anger out on me.
'I am going to stop by the house to pick up my suit-case,' Caroline said.
We had lunch at Le Bistro, a Haitian Restaurant on Flat-bush Avenue. It was the middle of the afternoon, so we had the whole place to ourselves. Ma sat next to me, not saying a word. Caroline didn't eat very much either. She drank nothing but sugared water while keeping her eyes on Ma.
'There's someone out there for everyone,' Eric said, standing up with a champagne glass in the middle of the empty restaurant. 'Even some destined bachelors get married. I am a very lucky person.'
Caroline clapped. Ma and I raised our glasses for his toast. He and Caroline laughed together with an ease that Ma and I couldn't feel.
'Say something for your sister,' Ma said in my ear.
I stood up and held my glass in her direction.
It was something that Ma might have said.
The photographer met us at the wedding grove at the Botanic Garden. Eric and Caroline posed stiffly for their photos, surrounded by well-cropped foliage.
'These are the kinds of pictures that they will later lay over the image of a champagne glass or something,' Ma said. 'They do so many tricks with photography now, for posterity.'
We went back to the house to get Caroline's luggage.
'We cannot take you to the airport,' Ma said.
'It's all right, Mother,' Eric said. 'We will take a cab. We will be fine.'
I didn't know how long I held Caroline in my arms on the sidewalk in front of our house. Her synthetic arm felt weighty on my shoulder, her hair stuck to the tears on my face.
'I'll visit you and Ma when I come back,' she said. 'Just don't go running off with any Brazilian soccer players.'
Caroline and I were both sobbing by the time she walked over to say good-bye to Ma. She kissed Ma on the cheek and then quickly hopped in the taxi without looking back. Ma ran her hand over the window, her finger sliding along the car door as it pulled away.
'I like how you stood up and spoke for your sister,' she said.
'The toast?'
'It was good.'
'I feel like I had some help,' I said.
That night, Ma got a delivery of roses so red that they didn't look real.
'Too expensive,' she said when the delivery man handed them to her.
The guy waited for her to sign a piece of paper and then a bit longer for a tip.
Ma took a dollar out of her bra and handed it to him.
She kept sniffing the roses as she walked back to the kitchen.
'Who are they from?' I asked.
'Caroline,' she said. 'Sweet, sweet Caroline.'
Distance had already made my sister Saint Sweet Caroline.
'Are you convinced of Caroline's happiness now?' I asked.
'You ask such difficult questions.'
That night she went to bed with the Polaroid wed-ding photos and the roses by her bed. Later, I saw her walking past my room cradling the vase. She woke up several times to sniff the roses and change the water.
That night, I also dreamt that I was with my father by a stream of rose-colored blood. We made a fire and grilled a breadfruit for dinner while waiting for the stream to turn white. My father and I were sitting on opposite sides of the fire. Suddenly the moon slipped through a cloud and dived into the bloody stream, filling it with a sheet of stars.
I turned to him and said, 'Look, Papy. There are so many stars.'
And my father in his throaty voice said, 'If you close your eyes really tight, wherever you are, you will see these stars.'
I said, 'Let's go for a swim.'
He said, 'No, we have a long way to travel and the trip will be harder if we get wet.'
Then I said, 'Papa, do you see all the blood? It's very beautiful.'
His face began to glow as though it had become like one of the stars.
Then he asked me, 'If we were painters, which landscapes would we paint?'
I said, 'I don't understand.'
He said, 'We are playing a game, you must answer me.
I said, 'I don't know the answers.'
'When you become mothers, how will you name your sons?'
'We'll name them all after you,' I said.
'You have forgotten how to play this game,' he said.
'What kind of lullabies do we sing to our children at night? Where do you bury your dead?'
