Secret Shopper (30 page)

“On behalf of my mom and brother and the rest of the Lizama and Lee families, we thank you for your support in our time of sorrow. And to dad, we love you and,” my voice broke with emotion, “daddy, I will always be your little princess.” I left the podium and fell into the arms of my family.

My father had died two weeks
into the New Year. He was 60 years old.

              Funerals on Guam are an all day affair. After nine days of evening rosaries and service of food at our home, I still didn’t want this day to end. I had made it through the mass without breaking down again. The long procession of cars were about to caravan through the Guam roads to my father’s final resting place at the Veteran’s cemetery. The church was only two miles from the cemetery, but many family and friends wanted to give their kind words as we exited the church. It wasn’t expected for everyone in attendance to follow us to the burial site. That group would be headed to the church’s social hall, where there was a catered luncheon, a never ending buffet. Immediate family and friends would dine after the actual burial.

I had Rachel by my side and Bradley even flew in from
California. It was awkward to have the Farmer family there, but Guam is so small that their attendance was expected despite the divorce. Pharaoh even put aside his anger at Bradley for the day. The solemn funeral director drove my family, Rachel and me to the cemetery. I rested my head on Rachel’s shoulder and held my mom’s hand.

I knew Pharaoh was having a lot of guilt with dad’s passing. He wondered if he did enough to help dad. The evening dad died, Pharaoh lost it. It was hard to see him so fragile. I reassured my little brother that he did his b
est. It was something he would have to deal with in time, much like Thomas’s sister, Tamara.

Thomas. God. I had left him out of all the latest developments. I could only hope he would understand. I didn’t feel that he should feel obligated to worry about me. He didn’t know my father after all. My father’s funeral should not be a reason he should return to
Guam, as much as Thomas loved the island.

Mom’s cell phone rang and shattered my thoughts of Thomas. Mom received a call from our Korean relatives who flew in from
Seoul. I closed my eyes and tried to comprehend what I could of their discussion in Korean. They got lost in the shuffle of cars and needed directions.

             
“Phoenix?” Rachel called to me quietly. We slinked along at ten miles an hour with about thirty cars behind our van and my dad’s hearse. It would be another fifteen minutes or so until we reached my dad’s final destination.

             
“Hmm?” My eyelids were so heavy.

             
“Promise me you won’t get mad.” Oh, no. I never liked it when Rachel prefaced her declarations with this comment. I opened my eyes, the sun shone brightly illuminating Rachel’s pretty face. “I know you didn’t want Thomas to know about dad’s passing, but I had to call him and at least tell him to call you. He was very persuasive and shook it out of me.” She whispered as she described another act of defiance.

             
“Did he?” I was too tired to be angry or to choke my bestie. “How does one do that from 6,000 miles away
and
over the phone?”

             
Rachel explained that she called Thomas two days ago when she saw that I was too preoccupied with arranging the funeral and handling my dad’s affairs to even mention his name. I’m not sure if I blocked him out on purpose, because he was indeed the one person I wanted to talk to during all this. He had his life in California, and for some reason I didn’t feel like I was an official part of his realm. I couldn’t imagine him flying out here, just for me. He was fervent about our friendship and yes we had some almost romantic moments, but did that define us in any other way other than friends. Were we even
good
friends? I was quietly relieved that he knew, but I felt guilt for not sharing this news personally. It was like I refused to blend with him, being oil in his water.

I didn’t want Pharaoh or mom to hear our discussion about Thomas, so I patted Rachel’s leg as a promise that I wouldn’t do her more physical harm and remained silent. She kissed my cheek and whispered, “Please don’t kill me.”

             
The white canopy erected over a large hole in the ground marked the spot where my dad would be buried. I swallowed hard, the ever growing lump of despair threatened to turn me into a crying ball of crazy. I had been to so many funerals in my life, but this was the first time it really mattered. This was my father. This place in the earth, here on our island would be his final resting place. The only image I wanted of my father was not of him in his coffin, or buried in the warm soil. I wanted to imagine him always in his favorite chair, watching his favorite show and with a glass of iced tea in his reach. And my mind knew my dad was gone—in heaven, in limbo, in a parallel universe, but my heart worried that he was still suffering somehow. Was he watching us? Was he proud of me? Was it selfish for me to be relieved that he no longer suffered physical pain?

             
Mom cried softly as we walked arm in arm. Being dressed in black, the island sun’s heat magnified our pain. This would be a day I would never forget. Rachel and I almost matched in our skirt and suit jackets, hers in lace and mine in linen. I twisted up my long hair and as if Rachel could read my mind, she offered me a hair clip. Irritating wisps of layered bangs floated around my face, snagging in my sunglasses.

Our priest was already waiting under the canopy, Bible and mic in hand. I looked at the parade of cars and knew it would be at least twenty minutes before everyone else joined us. There were three rows of plastic green chairs and we sat in the front row as expected. Mom produced several oriental hand fans from her purse and Rachel fanned us both and I offered Pharaoh some relief. He was sweating even in his stiff white shirt, and he wouldn’t be caught dead holding the little fan adorned with cranes and cherry blossoms.

I watched each car and noted the people I recognized. Bradley and his parents arrived. There were a few “aunts and uncles” I didn’t quite recognize, and it dawned on me that I didn’t have my dad around now to point out who to pay respects to.

             
Towards the end of the line of cars was a blue Prius, exactly like Thomas’s. For a second I thought that it was realistic for him to have had the time to fly to Guam. Albeit, his last minute ticket purchase would have been astronomical at two thousand bucks, but why would his car be here? I pointed at the car and told Rachel, “Look, Thomas made it. Maybe his little Prius transforms into a fast going submarine.”

             
Rachel pulled her Gucci sunglasses off her face and squinted at the car. The lone occupant was a Caucasian man with dark sunglasses. “Yeah, that car has a rental sticker.”

             
“What?” I was shocked. My Korean family rented a large van, so that should have been the only rental car in the caravan. Rachel and I strained our eyes in the bright sun. As the rest of our party gathered around the fringes of the canopy sweating in the afternoon heat, Rachel and I watched the blue Prius. The unknown visitor parked at the last spot away from the cluster of cars. He didn’t come out and the priest started prayer. Between “Lords” and “Jesus Christ” Rachel and I would glance at the little blue car. No movement. Maybe it was just some random person visiting a relative’s grave. Mom pinched my shoulder when she realized I was staring off into the parking lot and I didn’t rise with the rest of the mourners. That was it. I wasn’t going to dwell on the mystery person who might or might not be Thomas.

The funeral director, name tag-Hector, passed out white roses to all the mourners. He offered red ones to my family, including Rachel. She glanced at the red rose and then to me and then to the funeral director like he made a mistake. I smiled in confirmation at my one and only sister and Rachel squeezed my hand.

Before dad’s casket was lowered into the red earth, my mom and I cried a fresh round of tears. Mom was presented with the American flag. She clutched the triangular symbol of my father’s service in the Army and we approached dad’s casket to place our red roses. I plucked a petal from the rose and placed it in my jacket pocket. The pallbearers took their turns in removing their black arm bands. They tied it to the bars of the coffin which was customary. As soft church piano music played on an antiquated tape player, dad was lowered into the shade of his plot. Pharaoh rested his large arm around me and Rachel, with his other arm being used as a brace for my grieving mom.

The cemetery hands began shoveling dirt onto my dad’s casket, as several mourners walked towards the parking lot to smoke cigarettes. Others conversed quietly in the sun, offering us privacy. It was like someone hit the play button on the remote control and everyone resumed their lives.

The four of us stood quietly and when we finally sat down, a stream of relatives and family friends approached to console us. I glanced again at the blue Prius and in the time we took to say our final goodbyes, the lone occupant was no longer there. I scanned the green grass peppered with headstones discreetly, between hugs and kisses from relatives. I didn’t see anyone wandering or standing over the other graves. I drew my sights closer to the perimeter around me and then I saw Bradley in the shadow of a man head and shoulders above him. This stranger wore a sky blue cotton long sleeved shirt. The only male here in long sleeves. It was tucked into a pair of black slacks. I scanned to the shoes and saw black leather shoes. It couldn’t be Thomas. I hit Rachel with my elbow and directed her attention towards my ex-husband. She had only seen Thomas in the dark at Pass the Mic back in San Diego. Rachel was mesmerized and I willed this mystery man to turn around.

             
“I guess that’s not him, he isn’t sparkling in the Guam sun.” Rachel whispered in to my ear.

             
Could it be? My gut told me that I knew this man. I knew in my heart it was Thomas.

Chapter 17

A Phoenix is Forever

              When the crowd grew thin and cars began to file out of the cemetery parking lot, Bradley walked over to kiss my mom. My mom showed grace despite her hatred for my ex-husband. Bradley shook his former brother-in-law’s hand cautiously and I was glad Pharaoh kept his bearings. As Bradley took in the sight of my very large brother, his face was comical with a mixture of fear and awe. Bradley used to be the bigger one of the two.

I looked back at the man Bradley was talking to before. He watched the ocean, his lean back still to me. I stood alone with my ex-husband.

              “How are you, Nix?” Bradley asked. He wore his formal Army uniform and looked like he aged another five years since we divorced.

             
“I’m fine, thanks.” I looked back again and Rachel strolled away with the not so-mysterious man. Rachel turned to me, and gave me a huge smile and a wink. I should have chased after them instead of standing here in front of Bradley.

             
“I guess you’ve seen who Rachel’s talking to.” Bradley continued. I was relieved that he didn’t want to hash up old memories of dad. I nodded, still not fully grasping the idea that Thomas was on Guam for the second time in his life. The second time in a year. “You know, Thomas is sad for you, but also, I don’t know. I guess he should explain it to you. Needless to say, he’s disappointed.”

             
I squared my shoulders, upset that Bradley would try to get involved with a relationship that didn’t exist. “Well, that’s between me and him.” I kept my eyes on the sweaty men filling in my father’s grave. I wondered, irritatingly why they didn’t wait until the family left.

             
“You’re right.” I looked up at my ex-husband. I wasn’t used to hearing those words from him and my eyes met his. Bradley rested his hand on my arm. “You’re eulogy was very, um, touching. Take care, Nix.” Bradley’s eyes darted over to Thomas who was now facing us standing in the sun, several yards away. “You’re in good hands.”

             
“Thanks, Bradley.” I wanted to hug him one last time, but decided not to. I had been such a jerk to Thomas so far, this would just be another kick in his stomach. I felt Rachel and Thomas’s eyes on me. Dad’s too in a sense. Bradley shook Thomas’s hand and dove into Rachel for a hug. She shoved him roughly and I bit my lips to keep a smile from spreading on my face. Bradley trotted to his parents and Rachel smiled at me and shook Thomas’s hand before leaving. I waved feebly at her.

Thomas waited outside of the canopy. His profile was tragic as he slumped forward, hands in his pocket. His wild wind-whipped hair looked almost golden in the sun. His dark blue tie was peppered with white designs and it waved rhythmically in the
Guam breeze. I approached him slowly, keeping in the shade. He stood in the sun, watching the ocean again. God, he was so beautiful. What did he want with me? What could I offer him but misery? He was this rare exotic bird and I didn’t want him to fly away, so I remained behind my border in the shade.

“Hello, Thomas.” My voice cracked with emotion. I feared that Thomas would be angry with me. He angled his body towards me, but did not look up. I couldn’t see his eyes behind his dark sunglasses. His beautiful lips were downturned. “Thomas, I’m
so
sorry I didn’t contact you during all this, it’s just that when my dad,
uh
,” I looked over my shoulder and the men were conveniently on a break, eyes on me. I continued in a whisper, “I was overcome by so much that I didn’t think it was right to drag you into my world.”