Chapter 7: Eighteen Coffins

They buried us on the third day, from St. Michael's Church.

Eighteen coffins stood across the front of the altar and ran back down the aisle to the last pew.

Mine was white. Someone had chosen that, and I hoped it was my brother.

The priest began the first prayer and stopped halfway through it.

He looked at my father in the front row, then at Alessio on his knees beside a coffin.

He sighed and stepped back to the sacristy door.

My father told the soldiers to wait outside.

The last man out pulled the heavy doors shut, and only the family was left inside.

My older brother walked to his wife's coffin and lifted the lid.

He looked at her for a long time.

He took a ruby ring from his pocket and set it beside her hand.

"Let me look at you a little longer," he said. "After this I do not get to look at you again."

He stood there until his knees shook.

Then he went to the last pew, sat down, and put his head in his hands.

He did not look at anyone for the rest of the service.

My younger brother did not go to his wife's coffin at all.

He stood by the pillar with his arms folded across his chest.

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