hair, who were moving my things around andkissing my mother. My piano teacher broughtsomething with meat and nuts inside, and I atelunch.There was a pan of half-cooked custard onthe stove. My mother had been cooking it forice cream, and outside somewhere a bag of icewas melting and running to the bottom of thedriveway. The funeral director was sitting onthe red living room sofa with my mother, writ-ing and obituary. Someone had put a whitespray of flowers on the door. Ladies walkedpast me with handkerchiefs and kissed me.Many cars had gathered in front of the house.I did not know where my sister was. She wasfifteen. I saw my fatherTs cousin, his only localrelative, standing in the hall, and she was crying.She was fat and blonde and usually smiled, butnow her face was not so pink as usual. I sawthe dog walking between peopleTs legs, and Iwas afraid to touch her because she was blindand snapped at everyone but my father. Hereyes were covered with blue cataracts.My sister was in the kitchen pouring coffeegrounds into a big pot that was not ours. Thelight was out, making the room dark. She wasnot crying. I was crying and I was trembling.Someone set a podium in the hall with a bookon it, and people signed it. I went into my roomand lay on my bed. On my desk was the Super-man comic book I had been reading when mysister said, oMama, come here, DaddyTs sick,�and it had happened. Poor Lady, the dog. Whathad happened to the custard, I wondered, but tomy ears came the voices that said nothing frommany people all over the house. I wonderedwhere they had come from; it had not been thatlong. In her room my mother was on the phone.It took a long time. My hands were shaking.oMartha,� she said, oI want you to drop every-thing and come here.� I could not hear muchthat she said as I lay in my room, because shewas far away and people were roaming past andlooking in. I hated for them to see me. At thefoot of the bed on the floor was the place wheremy father had died, but it was not as scary as itshould have been maybe. I saw my sister passingthrough the hall. The bathroom with the deadlytoilet linked my room with my parentsT room.I saw my sister go in to my mother. She sat onthe bed and listened as I watched the ceiling,wondering how it would be to live life upsidedown. I would enjoy stepping over door framesand light fixtures. My sister was crying. Theceiling was blank, and I wanted to shut the win-dows and doors. The dog jumped on my bedand I touched her fur and she growled."Iwas elewen and thelady next door huggedme toher bosome....A neighbor came into the room and touchedmy hand. She said, oCheer up.� I acted as if IwasnTt unhappy, but I was. Through the door Isaw my mother and sister crying. I saw themaple trees outside blowing in the sunlight. Itouched the dog again, but she jumped off thebed. The neighbor went to put her- out.The same things kept happening until night-fall, with people touching me, until I was hun-gry again and went into the kitchen. Food wason all the counters, and I ate casseroles fromunder tinfoil. The same things happened again.I did not see much of my mother or sister, andI went to bed.oGet up,� my mother said. All around herstood her relatives from Illinois, a thousandmiles away. They moved me to the couch.It was morning when I woke up again, andI saw aunts and uncles asleep in cots all over theden. Some I had not seen in a year or more.The sofa was crampy. I got up. I walked bare-foot on the cold linoleum floor, and I lookedaround the kitchen. It was dark. The custard potwas no longer on the stove. I peeked into therefrigerator, and things nearly fell out becauseit was stuffed with other peopleTs china. I couldsee the double boiler with the custard in thecorner. Mama came into the kitchen.oDid you sleep all right?� I asked.oT never closed my eyes,� she said.oWhat are you going to do today?� I asked.oWeTre going to see about the funeral.�oCan I help?�