by Grace Brentley

Created on: July 09, 2008

I don't remember much about the funeral. It was a big crowd, but I was unsure if a well-attended funeral was a good thing. What if everyone there was glad Daddy was dead, secretly wishing he would burn in hell? He had a way of pissing people off. He was blunt and often spoke without thinking, traits unfortunately passed down to both us girls.

As the crowd left the cemetery, I stood at the casket, unable to comprehend that my father was gone. Tanner stood with me silently, his arm securely around my waist. No words were needed. What could he say that would make it any easier? He still had time with his parents. They were both still very much alive and kicking, unfortunately. His cold-hearted bitch of a mother never approved of me. She felt her son deserved someone more upper crust, and her snide comments constantly reminded me that I was the luckiest girl on the planet for sinking my claws into her son. His father, while not as openly hostile, never made much of an effort to help the situation. Not only did he not bother to get to know me, but he let his wife treat me like scum. Their marriage, plagued by his rampant infidelities, was a sham just like ours. Charles was free to have ladies on the side as long as Debbie was able to keep squandering his fortune on facials, chemical peels, diamonds and martinis. It seemed so unfair that evil, vindictive people like her were blessed with wealth and lived to be ancient while good-hearted, hardworking men like my father lived humble lives and met an early grave.

The gravestone he had chosen when my mother died was simple but elegant. It was charcoal gray, with a carving of a dove and two interlocked wedding bands. His name and birth date were already etched in. All that was lacking was his date of death. A violent chill swept over my body. I felt goose bumps rise on my arms and legs. I turned to Tanner. "I'm ready to go."

He stroked my cheek with his fingertips. "Are you sure?" I nodded and he pulled me closer to him as we headed for the car.

When we got back to the house, there were dozens of people milling about with brownies and ginger ale, a cocktail party of death. I headed straight for the kitchen, leaving Tanner behind to do the talking. He was a natural-born politician. The countertops were covered in baked goods; Shane and Jackie were there organizing the grief buffet. I suddenly realized I knew nothing about Shane. I didn't know who he was to my father or why he was being so damn helpful, but I was grateful.

He made small talk with the widows from Daddy's Sunday school class. He accepted every pineapple upside down cake and tuna casserole with sincere gratitude. I sat in Daddy's rocking chair, a wave of pure terror paralyzing me. I honestly didn't expect it to hit me so hard, so fast.

I wasn't sure why I was terrified. Maybe it was cleaning out a house full of memories. Maybe I was scared of what I would remember about the life I tried so hard to forget. Maybe I was scared people here would judge me. I was scared to have to face my sister. I felt a hand on my back, a gentle touch. I looked up, expecting Tanner. It was Shane instead. "You okay?"

I nodded. "I'm all right. Just tired."

"Why don't you go upstairs and take a nap? Me and the city slicker can get rid of all these widow women."

"City slicker?"

"Your husband?"

"Oh." I smiled slightly. "Well, all right. I'll be upstairs." With that I left the room. My heels were suddenly full of cement. Each step required Herculean effort. I finally made it upstairs to Marley's room. I fell onto the bed and kicked off my shoes, quickly falling into the deepest sleep I'd had in months.

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