Before the Lid

Before the lid went on, Ivan would drive a ploughshare through his father's chest with a sledgehammer. It would take him 11 blows.

At two o'clock on Tuesday, he still thought it was a village joke.

"Look at his feet," Petar said.

"I'm looking at a dead man in a brown suit, on a table, in 36 degrees, with a candle at each corner. Petar, you rang me at six and said come now. I thought he'd left a will."

"Look at his feet, Vanyo. Nina washed them at noon. Look what they're like now."

"Fine. His soles are black with dust," Ivan said. "And there are pine needles between his toes. So somebody's playing games."

"Who? The bees?"

"Whoever is selling tickets. Half the village was at the gate when I drove in."

"They're waiting for the iron," Petar said. "Georgi brought it up from his shed."

"Then Georgi can carry it back down."

"Nina's here," Petar said. "Mind, she counts everything now. She's 80, so that's a lot of counting."

"Two coins on the eyes," Nina said. "Four candles. Two feet. I washed them twice, Vanyo, and I put no shoes on, because shoes go on last."

"It's Ivan, Nina. I'm 58."

"You're Vanyo till I'm dead. And the bees went quiet at half past twelve. I thought it was the heat."

"Explain it to me," Ivan said. "Slowly. Like I'm a tourist at my own front desk."

"He died in his chair with his eyes open," Petar said. "Up here, when you die like that, you get the iron. A ploughshare, the iron blade on a plough that cuts the earth. The eldest son puts it through your chest before the lid goes on."

"And if he doesn't?"

"Then you get up. You walk to the one you loved best, and you stay with them."

"Stay how?"

"Mama said he eats with them. Then out of them."

"Lovely."

"It's not only us," Petar said. "They dug one up in Sozopol, by your hotels, from the fourteenth century. He had a ploughshare through his chest. He's in a museum now."

"I don't walk anywhere in August. You should come down, though. When did you last swim in the sea?"

"I never have. I can see it from the top hive on a clear day. That's enough for bees."

"So Tato walks to his favourite," Ivan said. "Good. Lock your door."

Petar smiled. "He did love me best. Everyone knows. I'm the one who stayed."

"You're the one who stayed," Ivan agreed. "And I've paid for a white stone from Italy and a priest from Burgas. Nobody hammers a farm tool into my father in front of that priest."

"He rang one number every Sunday," Nina said, and gave Ivan the old phone with the big buttons. "Count them."

"212 calls. That's the front desk at my big hotel. What did he want? Money?"

"He never asked you for money," Petar said.

"Then what?"

"He asked the girl to put him on hold. Then he did the crossword with the phone on speaker, for an hour."

"Our hold music is terrible."

"He liked it."

"He could have come down and heard it live, Petar. It's 25 kilometres."

"He went to the coast on the bus, some Sundays. He said the sea air was good for his chest."

"It's in this sack, and it has to be your hand," Georgi told Ivan at the gate at seven. "The eldest's. Nobody else's hand will hold him down, or I'd have done it myself at noon."

"Stefan," Ivan called, past him. "Your daughter cleans rooms for me. Maria, your boy parks my cars. Anyone who touches my father doesn't work for me this summer, or next."

"Other places had their padlocks and their blades," Georgi said. "We had the iron, and we kept it. Your grandfather got it, Vanyo. Your father held the hammer himself."

"And when he gets up, he'll go to Petar," Georgi said. "God help him. Petar fed him with a spoon for two years."

"Then give it to me. If it only works in my hand, nobody else can use it."

"You've brought it in," Petar said. "It's rusty, and it's as long as your arm. Where are you putting it?"

"Across your door. There. Iron on your door, so you're safe from him. Happy?"

"Thank you, brother," said Petar, and he did not argue.

"You sent me to school in Sofia at 12," Ivan told the body at nine, alone. "You came once. You shook my hand at the gate like I'd sold you a horse."

The bees hummed through the wall.

"Petar got the bees. Petar got the house. I got a train ticket. I built three hotels on that beach, and you never came down to see one."

He set one coin straight, and the humming stopped.

Both coins slid off and rang on the floor.

Tato's eyes were open, and turned toward him.

"Petar!" Ivan shouted, and stumbled back. "His eyes. They just opened."

"I'm here," said Petar, in the doorway behind him.

"He's looking at what he wants," Nina said from the hall.

"He's looking at the door," Ivan said. "Petar's in the door."

Petar put the coins back on. His thumb shook. "Your room's made up. Your school photo's still on the wall. Tato changed your sheets every Saturday."

"For guests?"

"We don't get guests, Vanyo."

Room 14 says the air is broken again, Ivan typed to his night manager. Give them the sea view and a bottle.

Done, boss. The Germans in 9 ask if the jellyfish bite.

Tell them only on Tuesdays.

He smiled. Outside, the humming stopped.

A hand was stroking his hair.

It was cold, and smelled of sweet wax. It pushed his hair back, the way you soothe a boy with a fever.

"Vanyo," said his father, kneeling by the bed.

"Tato. Tato, no. Petar! PETAR!"

The old head dipped. The teeth went into the meat above Ivan's collarbone and locked.

"Get him off!" Ivan screamed. "He's eating me. He's chewing. My skin's coming off like a label off a wet jar, and I can hear him swallow. Petar, I can't move my arms. He's got my wrists."

Tato's hands had tied vines for 60 years. They held like straps.

The door hit the wall.

"Get off him!" Petar yelled. He swung the ploughshare into Tato's back with both hands.

The dead man let go, wet and tearing. He threw one arm back without turning, and Petar hit the wardrobe mirror.

"My face," Petar said, on the floor. "Vanyo, my face is open. It's split from my ear to my lip. I can feel my teeth through it with my tongue."

"He's not even looking at you," Ivan sobbed. "He's coming back to me. It's me, Petar. He came to me."

"The hammer's in the hall! It has to be your hand. GET IT!"

Ivan ran for it. Petar dragged Tato off by the collar and knelt on his arms.

"Under the breastbone," Petar shouted. "Point it up. Hit it like you hate him."

"I don't hate him."

"Then hit it anyway!"

"It skidded," Ivan said after the first blow. "Off a rib. His skin's split like wet paper."

"Vanyo," Tato said.

"Two," Ivan counted, like Nina. "It's in an inch. Three. Something cracked, like a green stick. Petar, the blood's black. It's coming up round the iron like old honey. It's on my hands."

"Vanyo," said Tato, softer.

"He's got my ankle," Ivan said. "Petar, he's holding my ankle. He's not even squeezing."

"Keep going!"

"Four. Five. Six. That's the bone gone. Seven. Eight. Nine. 10."

"Vanyo."

"11."

The iron went through the brown suit and into the floorboards. Tato's fingers let go. Outside, the bees began to hum.

"Is it done?" Georgi called from the gate at dawn.

"11 blows," Ivan said.

"Your father took nine, for his. He cried at every one."

"I didn't cry."

"You will, at the stone. The eldest always does," Georgi said. "And I'll want my sack back. It's a good sack."

"14 stitches," Nina said, and tied off her black thread. "Hold still, Petar. Vanyo, keep that towel on your shoulder."

"He rang my front desk to hear the hold music," Ivan said. "That's as near as he dared get."

"Yes."

"He changed my sheets. He kept my photo."

"Yes."

"And you knew. The pine needles. There's no pine up here. It only grows on the coast road."

"He was walking to you," Petar said. "25 kilometres, on those feet, in the heat. To a hotel with 400 guests in it, and you at the top."

"So you rang me."

"I rang you, and I made up your bed."

"You tied me out in that room like a goat for a wolf."

"I put the hammer in your hand. It had to be your hand, and you'd never have believed me. You had to see who he picked."

"I'll give you a room," Ivan said. "On the sea. You can swim in it."

"After," said Petar. The stitches pulled his face into half a smile.

"Petar. The iron was on your door. Why was it in your hands?"

"I took it off my door at midnight."

"Why would you do that?"

"In case I was wrong." Petar looked down the hill toward the sea. "He stood in my doorway for a long time, Vanyo. Then he went to you."