BEAR WITH ME

by Cristi Lavin

When my father died, I buried him along with the lucky necklace he gave me before
he breathed his last. It was a piece of jewelry that was passed down from generation to
generation in our family, from father to son and so on. But for me it was just an old piece,
maybe made of gold, maybe not, in any case I couldn't wear something like that, even though
it was very precious to my father and also to my grandfather. So at the cemetery I insisted that
the only inheritance I received from my father must be placed in his coffin. He can keep it, if
you know what I mean.
But a few months later after his tragic death, I realized that nothing in my life was
working anymore. It was as if I had lost my luck. A fortune teller explained to me this is
happening because I lost the necklace. I didn't lose it, I gave it away, sort of speak. So, what
can I do now?, I asked myself, with a rhetorical tone. I can't dig up my fathers grave to find it
again! Or can I?
One night I took a shovel, a mask and a pair of gloves and went to the cemetery. It was
like trying to rob a bank, only worse. I waited for the last widow to leave her beloved grave,
and after that, when I was all alone, just me and the restless spirits, I started digging in the
moonlight. When I reached 10 feet underground, I still hadn't found the coffin. What the
heck! It couldn't be buried that deep!
When I looked at the gravestone again, I realized that I had dug in the wrong place. It
was the same name, but this man was buried several centuries ago. Maybe that's why I
couldn't find his coffin, it had been melted down over time. Three hours of hard work for
nothing! I told you I had no luck lately!
Being too tired to dig another hole in the right spot, I told myself that maybe I should
take a selfie to remember that night and laugh later. I sat down at the bottom of the grave,
pulled my phone out of my pocket, and tried to take a picture of me and the hole. I pressed the
button. After I took the picture, I checked it to see if it was OK or if I should take a new one.
And when I did, I saw something that made me cry out. It wasn't a ghost. If it had been a
ghost, I would have been the happiest person on earth at that moment. But no. It was
something much more menacing. Much creepier. I was wearing the necklace. That necklace!
My father's necklace. But how was that possible? I was digging in the wrong place, and I
didn't open any coffin because there wasn't one, so how did this unique piece of jewelry get
on my neck?! That's impossible! I was pretty sure I put it to my dad's neck when I buried him
3 months ago. But now I can see it very clearly in the selfie. In the next moment I touched it
with my finger. I felt the metal. It is real and it is there! That ancient amulet is sitting around
my neck, as my father wished for, but I refused it. It was like I was my dead father trying to
get out of his grave!
I was very scared. I tried to run. But I found that the hole was too deep and I couldn't
get out. I tried to jump, to climb up the earth walls, but it was in vain. I was stuck there
forever. Should I call 911? No way! They'd put me in jail for grave desecration. So, no police!
But what should I do? I need a staircase or a pair of wings. If I were to die, maybe I would
ascend like an angel. I realized that I had dug my own grave. I was in despair. No one to help
me. Just me and a shovel. Maybe I can use the shovel as a stair. I must be a monkey to climb a
stick. It's worth a try! But after several unsuccessful attempts, I was covered in dirt from head
to toe. The floor was damp, so I was covered all over with black mud. I didn't exactly look
like an angel now, but more like a devil.
At that moment, a widow who had forgotten her purse on a bench and was returning to
get it heard my cry and cautiously approached the grave where I was lying. She saw a black
silhouette at the bottom of the freshly dug hole. In a whispered voice, she began to pray the
Hail Mary. Woman, I don't need any prayer, I need a ladder! But I couldn't say anything to
her because I was too afraid that if I said even a little word to her, she'd run away. Or she
might have a heart attack because me and we will be a duo in the grave. Either way, I went
mute with panic, my voice strangled by that damn necklace. It was like a curse. What was I
supposed to do? I don't know sign language.
Although it was a very bad idea, I started to undress. Not because it was too hot, but to
show her that under the black clothes there was a human being and not Satan. When she saw
that I was taking off my clothes, she started to do the same. I was dumbfounded. What is she
doing? Is she trying to show me that under her black clothes (because she was wearing
mourning dress) there really is Satan, or what?! Woman, take a closer look: I'm not your dead
husband resurrected and rising from the grave! Not at all! So, be merciful, don't have dirty
thoughts, I'm the wrong person, put your clothes back on! You're messing everything up.
Please, be reasonable! I know you have needs, maybe you still feel young, but I need more
help than you, in a different sector! I was about to say a Hail Mary myself. But, in spite of my
last minute religiosity, she still didn't stop, she kept going, all the way. Oh, my God, you're
perpetuate my bad luck and laughing at me again! An old naked woman near a man forced to
take the deal and sell his soul to the devil!
But she hadn't thought about sex at all. I had jumped to conclusions. She started tying
her coat, skirt and blouse together to make something like a bed sheet ladder, and then she
threw it into my hole to help me get out. But the rope wasn't long enough. So she think a
moment, and after that she made a hard decision. She took off her bra too to make it even
longer. Pueh, I'd rather die here, in the middle of the cemetery, than see her wrinkled breasts!
But freedom has its price, and so I endured the disgusting sight. He tied a knot around the
tombstone that was above my head, and after that she encouraged me to climb up. After I did
so and got out, she hugged me. I didn't push her away because she deserved a sign of gratitude
from my side, even if it was an unwilling one.
Because I hugged her, I didn't pay attention to her face. It was dark anyway. But after
a while I heard her voice: "Oh, my son, you're wearing your father's necklace! That means my
dearest Sam is dead!" Sam is indeed my father's name. I mean, it was. And my mother died
before him.