February 3, 1991.

A young woman named Elaine dies. She was a wonderful person who
did all kinds of unorthodox things. A wake is held for her. I
go. It's in a house, upstairs. I didn't know Elaine
personallybut it's as if I did. I walk into the room and it's
filled to the brim with women, all Elaine's friends. I just want
to break down and cry thinking of Elaine. I feel sort of like a
fol because no one else is crying. They are all very serene.
I'm scared someone will ask me if I knew Elaine or if I was close
to her and they'll think I'm silly crying and not knowing her.

The room extends into a hall. There are long tables packed with
people. Candles on each table. We're celebrating the death of
people we knew. We sing happy birthday. I find a desk with a
secret opening. I open it, Marcelle (adoptive mother) is
standing beside me. It's Reg's (adoptive father) old desk and I
open the secret opening. Reg is dead. Marcelle isn't supposed
to see. It's full of all kinds of things, but one thing that
strikes me is that I see a couple of Playboy magazines. I hope
Marcelle hasn't seen them. But then, I see she has and really
doesn't care. It just makes him seem more human. I also think
it will make my affairs look less scandalous.

Underneath the collection is another layer in the desk. Here he
has kept all our old watches, mine, my brother's and sister's,
the ones we had as children. They stick upp like in a museum
exhibit. There are also small photographs of us as children.

I am preparing for a long trip. An old woman at work is going
too. They tell us we will have to dye our hair blonde or red so
we don't stick out to much among the natives.


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