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Two Funerals

Dawn DeBraal

    It was a funeral, for God’s sake. I should have never sat with my cousin, Sam. He could always get me going. Dead was my stepmother’s father. I barely knew him, but he was a decent guy. He keeled over on Baker Street on his Sunday afternoon walk. They say it was his bum ticker.
    My stepmother, Marnie, took it hard. I don’t know why; the man was in his eighties, and many people don’t make it that far. She knew Bert had a bad heart, but it still came as a shock for her.
    It was time for communion. The minister said the glasses in the center of the tray held real wine, and the ones around the outside were grape juice.
    Sam looked at me, raising and lowering his eyebrows like Groucho Marx. It made me laugh. I knew exactly what my cousin was thinking, we were going for the good stuff.
    My father sat with Marnie and the kids from her first marriage in the front pew. I had been pushed back to the second row because there wasn’t enough room on the immediate family bench.
    We watched as the usher handed the tray down our row. Both Sam and I dove for the biggest cups of wine. Our hands bumped into each other as we grabbed the cups spilling wine down the front of our shirts.
    Sam snorted like a pig, and I could no longer contain my laughter. Bending forward, I kept my mouth open as I huffed, trying to stop myself. This was the worst time to lose it.
    Marnie looks back at me and gives me THE look. Sam snorts again. The minister is going through the ceremony for communion, and I can’t contain myself.
    The funeral ends, and we walk out of the church into the cemetery, where fake green grass covers the dirt graveside. In the distance, I can see the utility truck with the top of the vault. No more digging up graves once that puppy was put in place. Sam whispered that Bert couldn’t come back as a vampire. I snort and get a look from both my father and Marnie.
    They lowered the casket, and we threw dirt into the grave. Walking back to the church, we partake in a meal consisting of cheap ham, melted gelatin molds, and generic potato chips.
    Sam and I stood outside sneaking a cigarette when Marnie came out in a huff. She stood before us. I tried to keep the smoke inside, knowing I would be in trouble for something else.
    “You two were disgusting. My father was laid to rest today, and all you did was laugh and poke fun. Someday it will be your turn.” I couldn’t stand it anymore. the smoke came out. Marnie really poured it on. My dad exited the church and stood there watching his wife berate his youngest child.
    “Marnie, that’s enough! He’s a kid!” She spun around on her heel.
    “Frank don’t say that. Not now, not today. I’ve had enough of his disrespect. You think he’d have enough manners to behave today of all days.” My dad ran his hand over his head and sighed, something he did while fighting with himself.
    “It’s over. I’m done. There aren’t enough days left in my life to put up with this bullshit. Mark, get in the car.” He looked back at his wife. “We’ll pack and move out. I’m sure your sister can get you home. Don’t hurry.” He grabbed my arm. Sam’s face was ashen, knowing he had egged me on. We walked toward our car parked on the street.
    “Frank, wait.” Marnie ran after my father, trying to stop him by pulling on his arm.
    “Please, not today. I just buried my father. I can’t lose you too.” My father brushed her aside and kept walking.
    “Frank, you aren’t taking the car. That’s the car you bought for me. Don’t you dare take off with MY car.” Marnie demanded at the top of her lungs. We had become a spectacle. Dad held the keys out, started the car with the automatic starter, and kept walking.
    “Frank, don’t you dare!” Marnie screamed and ran out to the street to get into the car before my dad could. She threw open the door to outsmart him when the gravel truck took her out along with the front door.
    We stood in shock—eyewitnesses to the horrible accident.
    Three days later, we attended another funeral.

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