Dada 74

He then offered to bring me a cup of coffee. I like coffee, so I said yes, and a moment later he came back carrying some on a tray. I drank it. The taste was bitter and suited my mood. Then I wanted a cigarette.  But I hesitated because I didn’t know if I should smoke in front of Dada. I thought about it: it was of no importance whatsoever. Dada would have offered me a drink of brandy if the tables were turned. I could imagine him sitting up in the coffin while everyone around him screamed. I offered the caretaker a cigarette. He took one carefully and we both smoked.

“You know; he said to me after a moment, “your Dada`s friends are going to come to the wake as well. Even if it isn’t the custom for most of them, they still want to come here. I have to go and get some more chairs and coffee.”

I asked him if he could switch off one of the lights. It was still only the early evening but their harsh reflection off the white walls was making me nauseous. He told me it wasn’t possible. That`s how the lights worked:

‘ Like day and night, like life and death here, all or nothing.’ He said, echoing the Dada.

I didn’t pay much attention to him after that. I knew by his expressions that Dada had been talking to him. He went out, came back, set up the chairs. He put some cups of coffee around a coffee pot on one of them. Then he sat down opposite me, on the other side of Dada. The nurse was also at the back, but turned away from me so that I couldn’t see what she was doing. Judging by the way her arms were moving though, I could tell she was knitting; probably for her family in Kalimantan, they always have big families over the border. It was cooler now. The coffee had warmed me and the night air drifted in through the open door, bringing with it the sweet scent of flowers. I think I fell asleep for a while. I was awakened by something brushing against me.