When we stood for the final hymn, I felt someone's eyes on me and I looked over to spot Marilyn Smith two rows down, in the company of a man I assumed lo be her husband, Wayne. She was wearing red. I wondered if she would leap up and do a lap dance on the coffin lid. The congregation by now was really getting into the spirit of things and hosannas were being called out on all sides, accompanied by amens, huzzahs, and much rending and tearing of clothes. I wanted to excuse myself, but I didn't dare. This was beginning to feel like soul-aerobics.

The woman next to me began to sway, her eyes closed, while she hooted out an occasional "Yes, Lord." I'm not given to this sort of orthodox public outburst and I commenced to edge my way to the door. I could see now that the minister, doing what looked like deltoid releases, was leading his merry band of church elders in the equivalent of a canonical conga line with Essie Daggett bringing up the rear.

At the exit, I came face lo face with Billy Polo and his sister, Coral. He took me by the arm and pulled me aside as the service drew to a close behind me and people began to crowd through the door. Essie Daggett was wailing, nearly borne aloft like a football coach after a big win. Barbara Daggett and Eugene Nickerson had arranged themselves on either side, giving her what protection they could. For some reason, the other mourners were reaching out to touch and pal and grasp at Essie, as if her grief lent her healing powers.

The pallbearers came last, pulling the coffin along on a rolling cart instead of toting it. None of the six of them appeared to be under sixty-five and Wynington-Blake may have worried that they'd collapse, or topple their cargo right out into the aisle. As it was, the cart seemed lo have one errant wheel which caused it lo meander, squeaking energetically. The coffin, as though with a will of its own, headed for the chairs first on one side and then the other. I could see the pallbearers struggle to maintain mournful expressions while correcting its course, dragging it up the aisle like a stubborn dog.