That Funeral Buried Me

When I was being intimate with my fiance, Freda Henson, she held me but cried out someone else's name.

I dug out the photos of them in bed and threw them down in front of him, demanding to know why he had climbed into Freda's bed.

Ignoring my mother's attempts to stop me, I slapped him three times.

He cried and said, "Brother, will you only be satisfied when I'm dead?"

The next day, I received a photo of him covered in blood.

My mother collapsed to the floor, crying until she gagged: "For the sake of a woman, you drove your own brother to his death!"

After my mother handed me my brother's urn, she never answered my calls again.

Only Freda didn't leave.

She went to the cemetery to burn paper money for my brother on my behalf, went with me to see a psychologist, and got through a whole year with me.

It wasn't until I went to her company to drop off the documents she'd left at home that I heard someone laughing in her office.

The voice was exactly the same as my brother's.

Through the crack in the door, I saw him holding my Freda in his arms.

My mother was peeling an orange for him, smiling as she said:

"If Freda hadn't thought it all through and arranged this fake death, how would your brother ever have fallen into line?"

Freda soothed him in a low voice, "Just hold on a few more months. Once I've had the baby, I'll come clean to him."

They had used a fake death to steal away the last shred of feeling I had for this family.

Then I'd fake my death too.

......

The laughter inside kept going, and I turned and went home.

That evening, the door lock turned, and Freda walked in, worn out.

She changed into her slippers, came around behind me the way she always did, and rested her warm hand on my shoulder.

"Why aren't you asleep yet? Is your head hurting again?"

Her voice was soft and gentle, carrying just the right amount of tenderness.

I didn't pull away from her touch. "Can't sleep," I said flatly.

She gently kneaded my stiff shoulders and neck, with just the right amount of pressure.

"Work was too busy today, I didn't get a chance to call you. Did you eat dinner on time?"

I lowered my eyes and looked at her shadow in the lamplight.

"I ate. The housekeeper made soup."

She came around in front of me, crouched down, and took my cold hand in hers.

"Why are your hands so cold?"

"Next week is Basil's death anniversary." She looked up, her eyes full of understanding. "Your mother's been in a bad state these past few days. She's living alone in the old house, and everything there brings it all back."

I looked into her tender eyes and played along.

"I'm the one who wronged her," I said softly, going along with her.

Freda sighed and reached out to pull me into her arms.

"It's all in the past. You still have me." Her chin rested on my shoulder. "As long as we're all right, Basil will be at peace up there."

Her breath brushed against my ear, carrying a faint scent of perfume.

"The doctor said your mother needs a change of scenery. I was thinking, that house of yours in Southport that's sitting emptyit's a nice area, and it's close to the hospital."

She paused, her tone growing even softer.

"How about we transfer that house to your mother so she can rent it out and live off it in her old age? Think of it as being a good son for Basil's sake. It might ease your mind a little."

That house in Southport was the one thing my grandfather left me, the only keepsake, in a prime location, surrounded by top private schools.

Providing for my mother was the pretense; the real point was to set up a house in a top school district for the child in her belly.

Freda knew how much that house meant to me.

But she knew even better that over the past year, I'd been tormented past all bearing by the guilt of driving my brother to his death.

She was certain I would hand over everything to atone.

I watched her, and I didn't miss the flicker of probing in her eyes.

"All right," I nodded calmly.

Freda seemed to breathe a sigh of relief, and the smile at the corners of her eyes turned a shade more genuine.

"I've put you through so much." She looked up and kissed my chin. "Tomorrow I'll have legal bring the documents over. All you need to do is sign."

"Mm."

She stood and took off her coat.

"I'll go heat up a glass of milk for you. Drink it and get to bed early."

I watched her walk into the kitchen.

The microwave hummed.

She came out carrying the warmed milk, first touching the back of her hand to the cup to test the temperature before handing it to me.

I took the cup, the warmth spreading into my palm.

Over the past year, extreme guilt had left me with a severe somatization disorder.

I would gag all night long, and the slightest sound would jolt me awake in a cold sweat.

Freda had turned down all of her important engagements, holding me all night, soothing me over and over in the gentlest voice.

She said it was all in the past. She said I still had her.

That had once been the only thing keeping me alive.

Looking back now, when she was holding me and comforting me, what was on her mind was still that dear brother of mine.

"Finish it and get some good rest. Tomorrow's the weekendI'll take you out somewhere to clear your head."

Freda tucked the blanket around me on the sofa, then turned and went into the bathroom.

The water started running, and I opened my phone and booked a deep-dive trip out on the water, then contacted a lawyer to draw up a will for me.

"The medicinal broth here is great for restoring your health. You've been too thin lately, you need to eat more."

At noon Freda booked the most secluded private room, saying it was to celebrate that I had finally come out of my depression.

This private restaurant is out in the suburbs, runs on a strict membership system, and has excellent security.

Freda pushed a small tureen of squab soup, stewed until tender, in front of me.

I picked up a spoon and stirred the clear broth.

"Thanks."

Freda smiled, picked up her chopsticks, and carefully picked the bones out of the fish for me.

"There's no need for thanks between us."

She set the deboned fish into my bowl.

"The chef here learned his craft from a descendant of the royal kitchen. It's especially good for pregnant womenit steadies the pregnancy and builds up their strength."

She said it offhandedly, then seemed to suddenly realize something, and her hand paused.

"What I mean is, it's also very good for a depleted body like yours."

I picked up the piece of fish, put it in my mouth, and chewed it slowly.

"It really does taste good."

A satisfied smile flickered in Freda's eyes.

Halfway through the meal, her phone screen lit up.

She glanced at it and frowned slightly.

"There's an urgent video conference at the company, with the overseas branch."

She stood up and straightened her clothes.

"The signal's bad in here. I'll go take the call in the empty room next door. Take your time eating."

"Okay, go ahead."

Freda pushed the door open and went out.

I set down my chopsticks and took a tissue to wipe my mouth.

Five minutes later, I stood up and walked out of the room.

The corridor was covered in thick carpet, and I followed the sound to the door of the room next door.

The door wasn't shut all the way, leaving a thin crack.

Soft laughter and chatter drifted out from inside.

"This soup is too bland, I want something sour."

It was Freda's voice, carrying a little coy petulance she got away with because of the pregnancy.

"Sour cravings mean a boy, spicy means a girlthis one's definitely a boy."

Then the mother's voice came right after, full of tenderness.

"You picky little thing," she chided with a smile. "This is a pregnancy meal Basil went out of his way to have ordered for you. Eat at least a little."

I stood outside the door, looking at the warm yellow light spilling through the crack.

My younger brother Basil's gentle voice came through.

"Freda wants something sour? I'll have someone go buy some dried plum candy in a bit."

"That's more like it." Freda gave a soft snort. "Have you settled on the color for the nursery? I don't like that tacky pink."

"We settled on the Morandi palette, and I've already had the wallpaper air-shipped from Italy," Basil coaxed patiently.

"Oh, and add an order of chestnut Mont Blanc," Freda suddenly said to the waiter beside her.

The room went quiet for a moment.

Basil grumbled, displeased, "I don't like chestnuts, you know that."

Freda froze for a beat.

"I misremembered, that was" She paused, then smoothly corrected herself. "That was something a client ordered a few days ago when I had dinner with him."

I listened quietly outside the door.

Chestnut Mont Blanc is my favorite dessert.

I took out my phone, opened the camera, and turned off the shutter sound and the flash.

Through that crack in the door, I took a blurry photo of them together.

In the photo, Basil is leaning down to wipe the soup from the corner of Freda's mouth, while the mother sits beside them, grinning from ear to ear.

After taking the photo, I put my phone away, turned around, and walked back to my own room.

The fish on the table had gone cold.

I picked my chopsticks back up and ate every last bite of the fish Freda had deboned with her own hands.

Ten minutes or so later, Freda pushed the door open and came in.

She had an apologetic look on her face.

"The meeting dragged on a bit. Did you get tired of waiting?"

"No." I looked up at her.

"Did you get enough to eat? Want to order some dessert?" She sat back down in her chair.

"No, I couldn't eat any more."

Freda paid the bill and, quite naturally, took my arm as we walked out.

"I'll have the driver take you home first. There's still some wrapping up to do at the company, so I need to head back."

"Okay."

After I got home, I pulled open a drawer and quietly began sorting through my personal belongings.

I closed my frequently used private bank accounts one by one, and cleared out every last bit of the scattered funds in my name.

The expensive watches and cufflinks Freda had bought me in the closet, I swept into a trash bag, boxes and all.

I opened the chat with my instructor at the deep-dive club.

Moving the trip up to tomorrow night. I'm ready.

When Freda pushed open the bedroom door, I was packing my diving suit into my suitcase.

She leaned against the door frame, a hint of relief in her eyes.

"Finally willing to get out and clear your head?"

I zipped up my suitcase and stood.

"Yeah, diving out at an island for about a week."

Freda walked over and took the diving watch from my hand, easy and natural.

"Go on and relax. I'll take care of things at home."

She looked down and carefully checked over the gear I was bringing.

"This watch is still the one I gave you back then."

She ran her fingertip along the scratch on the edge of the dial.

"The waterproof seal looks like it's worn a little. Let me tighten it up for you."

She turned and walked to the desk, taking a special miniature screwdriver out of the drawer.

I stood where I was, watching the side of her face as she bent over it in concentration.

Her slender fingers worked with practiced ease, just like when she'd taught me to dive, hand over hand.

Back then, before every dive, she'd hold my hand tight. "Don't be afraid. I'll always be your safety line."

"There."

Freda handed me the fixed diving watch and slipped it onto my wrist for me.

"Did you check the breathing valve? The currents out there are complicated, so make sure you stay close to your instructor."

As she spoke, she opened my carry-on backpack.

She tucked a box of the stomach medicine I usually take into the inner pocket.

"Too much seafood upsets your stomach, so keep the medicine on you."

Watching her fuss over everything, I said quietly,

"Thank you."

Freda's hands went still, and she looked up at me.

She reached out and straightened my collar.

"Don't be so formal with me. When you get back this time, I'll take you to Iceland to see the northern lights."

Her eyes were full of tenderness.

"You've always wanted to go, haven't you? I've cleared my whole schedule for next month."

"Okay." I nodded.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket.

Freda took it out and glanced at it, the light from the screen falling across her calm face.

"Something urgent's come up at the company. I have to head out first."

She put the phone back in her pocket.

"The driver's waiting for you downstairs. Let me know you got there safely."

"Go take care of it."

Freda walked to the door, looked back at me once, and then closed it and left.

I picked up my suitcase and walked out of the home where I'd lived for five years.

Before boarding, the sea wind was so strong it was hard to keep my eyes open.

I stood on the deck and called my private lawyer.

"Tomorrow at noon. Proceed as planned."

"Are you sure? Once it starts, all the asset division and notarization will be irreversible." The lawyer's voice was precise.

"I'm sure."

I hung up, pulled out the SIM card, and threw it along with the phone into the churning waves.

The instructor came over and handed me an oxygen tank.

"Mr. Simmons, the undercurrent's a bit strong today, so whatever you do, don't leave the safety line."

"I know."

I pulled on my diving suit and put on the diving watch Freda had checked for me with her own hands.

Bit down on the breathing valve.

I walked to the edge of the ship, my back to the bottomless water.

And tipped backward.

The icy water swallowed every one of my senses in an instant.

At that same moment.

In the VIP room of Southport Private Hospital, Basil was smiling as he laid his hand on Freda's slightly swollen belly.

It had been a full forty-eight hours since I went missing while diving.

Freda was with Basil at the store, picking out a crib.

"Freda, what do you think of this natural wood one? It looks eco-friendly, and there's no chemical smell."

Basil leaned back on the sofa, a tablet in his hand.

Freda carried a glass of warm water over and set it down beside him.

"Whatever you like. I'll go along with you."

Her phone rang.

It was an unfamiliar number.

Freda answered casually, her tone carrying a trace of irritation at being disturbed.

"Hello, who is this?"

A serious voice came from the other end, from the coast guard.

"Excuse me, is this Ms. Henson? This is the Southern Coast Rescue Center."

Freda frowned slightly.

"Yes, that's me. What is this about?"

"Your fianc, Mr. Keith Simmons, went missing forty-eight hours ago while diving in the Blue Hole waters. We've just recovered some of his belongings. Please come in as soon as possible to confirm them."

Freda gave a soft laugh, as if she'd just heard an absurd joke.

"Missing? He only went diving to clear his head. Are you sure you haven't made a mistake?"

"Mr. Simmons's ID number has been verified, and the instructor who accompanied him has confirmed his identity. A rare deep undercurrent occurred in those waters two days ago."

The smile on Freda's face slowly froze.

She shot to her feet, knocking over the glass on the table.

Warm water spilled all across the floor.

"Freda, what's wrong?" Basil was startled.

Freda ignored him, snatched up the car keys, and rushed out.

"Something urgent came up at the company. I'll be back later."

The whole way there, she kept the accelerator floored.

Her mind was still racing, trying to rationalize all of it.

Did he find something out, and is he throwing a fit at me?

He's such a strong swimmerhow could anything have happened to him?

It wasn't until she rushed into the rescue center and saw what was laid out on the table.

An oxygen tank washed back by the current, and a diving suit shredded to tatters by the rocks.

And a dive watch with a broken strap.

The officer handed her a confirmation form.

"Ms. Henson, please confirm whether these are Mr. Simmons's belongings."

Freda stared hard at the watch.

The scratches along the edge of the dialshe had seen them with her own eyes just days ago.

The screws on the waterproof ringshe had tightened them with her own hands.

Her hands began to shake uncontrollably; she couldn't grip the pen at all.

Her stomach churned. She shoved the chair back, rushed to the trash can beside her, and began to retch violently.

"Ms. Henson, are you all right?"

Freda straightened up, her eyes bloodshot.

"It's not possible... He's a very good swimmer, there's no way anything happened to him!"

Just then, a black sedan pulled up outside the rescue center.

The lawyer I'd hired walked in carrying a briefcase.

"Ms. Henson, I'm sorry to meet you under these circumstances."

The lawyer took a thick stack of documents out of his bag.

"These are the notarized documents Mr. Simmons entrusted me to handle before he left."

Freda stared hard at the lawyer.

"What documents?"

"The conditions under which the asset liquidation takes effect." The lawyer pushed his glasses up in a strictly businesslike manner.

"Before Mr. Simmons went diving, he had already completed the transfer of all core assets in his name to an overseas trust. All he left you are these few documents."

"What did you say?"

Freda's face went deathly pale in an instant. She grabbed the documents and flipped through them rapidly.

The lawyer handed over a sealed file envelope.

"This is the last thing your fianc left behind."