legs spread wide so she could measure me and stick pins in the fabric She hemmed it with white thread as a test run before sewing the real hem She said Be still Finley at least a hundred times and I tried to I really did But I’d never been any good at staying still My nose suddenly itched My knees creaked My toes tingled And I longed to jump run pedal climb throw a rock or run away anything but stand still Even in school I was constantly restless It’s probably the reason I failed the last semester As my mom poked and prodded and pulled at my grandfather’s suit I prayed that the agony of altering would be over soon It’s not my fault I can’t stay still I told her Patches keeps jumping on me Patches my faithful adventuring companion and scapegoat looked up with his watery eyes from under the couch where he was resting My mom tugged me away from him and a little closer to the light It had gone on like that for two hours Me fidgeting
my mother scolding But as I climbed to the top of the hill with my dad and my brother I decided it was kind of cool that we were all dressed in black There was something important and ancient about it When we arrived at the top of the hill Reverend Prospero had his back to the sea He was muttering some psalm while two farmers stooped over the tein-eigin a tool we would use to light the pyre It was the first time I’d seen one Well the first time I’d seen one actually being used The tein-eigin is a board made of new oak with a hole in the middle You spin a drill into the hole also made of oak and it begins to shoot sparks I watched the two men prepare the tool from behind my father’s back He seemed larger than ever in his black jacket like one of those heroes whose deeds you read about in books while the winter wind blows or the sea roars ominously in the background Old lady Cumai had requested the bonfire on the hill
for her funeral She must have spoken about it with Reverend Prospero in person or perhaps with Frankie del Latte I couldn’t imagine either scenario Cumai had always been a mystery to me just like the old mill that had been her home which looked nothing like a mill She was an eccentric woman with large blue eyes and a long neck like a daisy stem I said hello to her every once in a while when I went fishing but I never really spoke to her in all my thirteen and a half years Now I was sorry for that It’s a terrible feeling to go to the funeral of someone whose voice you can’t even remember I followed my father’s lead and stood in the circle around the unlit bonfire with the other men Did you check to make sure you don’t have any iron in your pockets my father asked me I nodded His mood was as black as his clothing It wasn’t the first funeral we’d gone to together and it wouldn’t be the last but it was without a doubt the
strangest one It was one of those typical Scottish moments You couldn’t help using the word magic to describe the behavior of the men and our surroundings The sea wind cut sharply across the top of the hill shrieking as it rose along our backs below the rocky mountain peaks The many islands in the bay stood out of the water like mysterious pyramids seemingly waiting for something to happen On the faces of the other men I saw the same deep sadness that had caught hold of my father Mr McStay Professor Everett McBlack from Scary Villa they all had a hard time looking at each other Seamus Santangelo the TV antenna installer was also there So was the Wild Thresher and even Michael Fionnbhurd the pub boy whom I’d never before seen outside the pub His pants were so short that his calves were bare but there he was next to the rest of us Beside him were the baritones from the Island Choir and Jules the postman
