Gone Away
Olena walked by pissed as hell -- the nuns caught her and she had to get away, but they usually caught someone doing something so it didn’t matter.
“Doing what?” I asked.
She looked at me as if I was an idiot and said, “Oh, never mind…” and walked on down the street.
I hurried my steps and caught up with her. “But what did you do?”
She looked very sad and sniffed her nose, then reached for a pack of cigarettes in her purse. I bit my bottom lip and looked around; we weren’t very far from school and I didn’t want any one seeing us smoking so openly. She offered the open pack to me and I reluctantly took one and we silently walked on.
We came by the church funeral home, a block away, and she said, “Ever have anyone die?”
I looked at the sad façade and shook my head, “No,” I answered, “Is that was happened to you?”
She looked at me and said, “Well, I did,” she said, “Just two days ago,” and she threw her cigarette away. An old Ukrainian woman was standing there as we passed and shook her head; Olena glared at her but said nothing.
“I knew this guy,” she continued, “And was busted for stealing cars; they had a list of maybe ten, fifteen cars that he swiped.” Again she sniffed then said, “He’ll be going away for a long time.”
Is that what happened? I thought. A jail bird? What’s this gotta do with death? But I didn’t say a thing.
On Avenue A we parted; I looked at her walking along the park. What was I supposed to do anyway? I walked home confused…Who the hell died anyway?
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