“Why the tears?” I asked. “On your wedding day?”
Magda wailed louder. Her heavy makeup was smearing and I was concerned that she might get mascara stains on the dress. Grabbing a rag off the table, I dried her eyes. I hoped there weren’t dead leftovers on it.
“Magda is upset because we are fully scheduled with funerals all day,” Mario explained. “There is no time for a wedding. And see how beautiful she looks in the dress.”
Magda stood and twirled around, sniveling as she spun. The white and silver off-the-shoulder brocade ball gown that had so elegantly adorned Audrey Hepburn in Roman Holiday now sported silk gussets to accommodate Magda’s unusual figure. The skirt had been taped up by a third. When I was little, I had a troll doll in a wedding dress that looked like Magda. Her name was Bubbles. She was one of my favorites.
“You’re a vision,” I said, “like a princess bride.”
“But I won’t be walking down the aisle,” Magda said, sniffing back tears. “Too many corpi to bury.” She turned to Mario. “I told you we shouldn’t marry here. This is exactly what I was afraid would happen.”
“Magda, my love, we can marry tomorrow,” Mario said. “There are no funerals on Sunday.”
“No-no-no-no-no-no,” I interjected. “I must have the dress back today. The Hepburn exhibit starts Monday. It’s now or never, my friend. Come. I’ll need you to translate.”
Mario followed me to the lobby outside the chapel, where the mourners were gathering. “Take me to the family of the woman who died.”
He directed me to the front row, where two middle-aged women sat drying their tears with freshly ironed handkerchiefs. “Twin daughters,” Mario whispered. “The Romano sisters.”
I knelt in front of them and offered my condolences. Then I asked if they wouldn’t mind if, before their mother was eulogized, we held a quick wedding ceremony. “It would be life affirming,” I explained.
Mario translated.
The women gasped in perfect unison. As twins, that probably happened a lot. “No, no,” they both said, vehemently shaking their heads.
“But if you say ‘yes,’” I added, “Mario’s family will give you this funeral for free.”
Mario gasped. “No, that’s impossible. It is too much money for my family to lose.”
“Listen to me, Mario,” I said, “if you want to marry Magda, I suggest you do it now and stop being such a cheapskate. That girl could change her mind at any moment. She already thinks you’re a dud in the bedroom.”
Mario raised his eyebrow in question. “She told you this?”
“You think I’d make it up? She says you are too quick on the trigger, that you don’t take time to pleasure her. If this wedding doesn’t take place today, well, there’s a chance it may never happen.”
Mario spoke rapidly in Italian to the Romano sisters.
They spoke back.
“What are they saying?” I asked.
“They want to know if the casket will be free. They chose one of our most expensive models. And they wondered if they would be charged for the plot and for eternal upkeep. I don’t see how—”
“YES! Give ’em everything. You want to marry Magda, don’t you? Let’s get this show on the road.”
Five minutes later, Magda’s and Mario’s families were scattered among the mourners. The organist began to play a bridal march, which sounded funereal to me, but it would have to do. Magda started down the aisle. Half an hour ago she was a blubbering troll doll, but now she was radiant. A halo of light followed her as she floated down the aisle in that sumptuous cream silk dress. Mario’s eyes sparkled at the sight of his bride. The funeral guests rose, and Mario broke into a wide grin. He and the priest stood in front of the open casket. Even the corpse seemed to be smiling.
In the presence of so much love, you hardly noticed the dead body lying in the open casket behind the happy couple. Someone really should have thought to close it. Just as the idea crossed my mind, Magda turned, took hold of the casket lid, and pulled it down. It must have been awfully heavy because it slammed right on the bride’s finger or hand (it was hard to tell from where I was sitting). Magda shrieked, grabbed herself, as blood spewed forth.
“NOOOOOOO!” I screamed, diving out of my seat, hoping to heave my body between the dress and the scarlet liquid, knowing I would never get there in time.
I’ve Been Down for So Long (It Looks Like Up to Me)
MARIO, GOD BLESS HIS soul, grabbed the wound with the sleeve of his jacket. The color drained from Magda’s face until it was as pale as her gown. Mario spoke to her in rapid Italian (is there any other kind?) and she nodded, biting her lower lip. There were no obvious bloodstains, at least none that I spotted from twenty feet away.
The priest resumed the ceremony as Mario continued to compress Magda’s wound. The Romano sisters stopped weeping, which made me think that combining weddings with funerals wasn’t such a bad idea.
After Mario kissed the bride and the two made their way up the aisle, the priest opened the casket up, the Romano sisters went back to bawling, and everyone settled into funeral mode. I skipped out because I wanted to congratulate the happy dress…er, couple. It was almost noon.
By the time I caught up with Magda in the embalming room, she had changed outfits. Mario’s father was stitching up her hand. How handy to have a father-in-law who could both stitch you and bury you. Magda’s father
