Page 72 of Love at a Funeral and Other Awkward Conversations

“Talk about what? Me getting fired?”

“Yeah.”

I sigh and toy with the gold pendant, bringing it closer to me so I spot the outline of a person on it. “Who’s this?”

“Saint Vincent. My grandfather gave it to me for my eighth-grade confirmation.”

“Saint Vincent,” I repeat. “Patron saint of…?”

“Charities.”

“Charities,” I deadpan with an arched brow, the irony not escaping me. The half-naked saint Vincent currently keeping me warm has basically been running a charity with me being the only recipient since February 14th.

He shakes his head in amusement as if he can read my mind. “Never mind that. Tell me what happened.”

There’s nothing else to lose, so I give in. But I trail my hand over his chest as I do it.

“Gary basically said I didn’t care enough about the job, which isn’t entirely untrue.”

“What’re you going to do now?”

I purse my lips. “Get another job, I guess.”

“Better learn to send a fax,” he jokes, and I pinch him before shifting away. He rolls to his side, propping his head in his hand. “Do you want me to say some clichéd thing about how this is a door closing but a window will open?”

I snort then pull the covers up to my shoulders. “No. Sassie’s sucked, but it paid better than some random entry-level job. This isn’t a window opening. It’s a wrong turn through this horrible maze.” I raise one eyebrow at him. “Maybe I’ll become a funeral director.”

“Queen of the Underworld.”

I fake a shiver. I may be in dire straits, but there’s no way I’d ever want to do that.

“We haven’t talked in a while,” he says, the insinuation of my let’s be friends talk hanging between us after what we just did. I see a yearning in his eyes to understand what’s going on, although I can’t tell him because I don’t fully understand it either. All I know is that I need him. I don’t want to need him, but I do. And I’m not sure how to feel about that.

“What’s up?” he asks like he’s not constantly picking me up off the floor from an emotional breakdown.

“I think my dad’s having an affair.”

He sits straight up, mouth open. “Your dad what?”

“I was doing laundry a while ago, and one of his shirts had lipstick on it. Like a scene from a soap opera.”

“What’d you do?” His gaze is filled with pity, and even though I have nothing to be ashamed of, I’m humiliated. My life’s become one big melodrama.

“When I confronted him, he didn’t deny it.”

“Jesus,” he mutters, curving his hand around my shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

“We started yelling at each other, and then he completely broke down,” I continue. “It was like… You never expect to see your parents like that, especially him, you know? He’s curt and gruff, and he’s…not the best dad, but he’s the only one I have. And this morning, the way his whole body crumpled to the floor. I actually felt bad for him. I could see the physical pain he had, in his face, his hands.”

My eyes water, threatening to spill over, and I bat at the traitorous tears. I don’t want to sympathize with my father, not after what he’s done. “It’s not fair,” I say, dropping my chin toward my chest. Even though Vince is the one person I can talk to about all this, it scares me to say some of these words out loud. “I’m totally unequipped to handle this. It’s not fair my brother died, and now…” I sniffle. “Now, I have to deal with my parents. My father’s a drunk, doing god-knows-what every day, while my mother’s wasting away. It’s too much.”

Vince tugs me to him with an arm around my shoulders, my back to his chest, and he leans his head against mine. “You’re doing the best you can. That’s enough.”

“You keep saying that to me, but it’s not true.” I yank myself away from him. “Nothing I do is helping. I don’t even know why I try.”

“You’re trying because even though everything’s a wreck, you still love your parents. They’re still your family. And you’re still you.” He slants closer to me and lowers his voice. “Your parents might be lost, and you might be too. It’s normal to try to find a way back. Give yourself credit for trying, for wanting to. I’ve seen some people never recover after something like what you guys are going through.”

I snort. “Might as well put us in that category.”

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