Slowly, everyone began to leave the grove.
Raul thought himself the only one left, and then he saw his father in his chair among the trees. A great iguana peered at him from a palm immediately behind: its iridescent greenish head and dark eyes faced the ground, the tongue licked out. Click, click, ssh, ssh, said the blackbirds.
"Shall I call the men to carry you?" asked Raul.
"No," growled Fernando. "I told them to leave me here."
A flock of parrots fanned through the wood, loros, with red on their shoulders, yellow daubs on their beaks.
"My wife's gravestone is the parrots' roosting place," said Fernando. "She gave up her fight too soon. They'll not dump their excrement on my grave any sooner than I can help it."
Raul kicked at a scrap of palm and admired his courage.
"Death is for fools," the old man spluttered.
"Then we're all due to be fools," Raul said.
"Light a cigarette for me."