She didn’t wait for an answer before stepping past me, her sharp floral perfume cutting through the scent of the funeral flowers. My father followed with his usual heavy walk, and Tyler wandered into the living room like he was meeting me for a casual brunch. I closed the door slowly and told them that their behavior was incredibly rude.
Tyler just snorted and said it was good to see me too while he looked around the room with judgment. My mother’s eyes traveled over the moving boxes, and her face showed the quick disapproval she always had for any kind of mess. She set her purse on the counter and claimed she was heartsick that they couldn’t be at the funeral.
“No,” I said, using a flat tone that should have been a warning to any sensible person.
I walked to the kitchen table, picked up my phone, and held the screen out so they could see the Hawaii photo and the text message. I asked her what context could possibly make my husband and child’s funeral sound like a dreary, cheap errand. My mother recovered quickly and told me that I was being theatrical, which was her usual way of dismissing my feelings.
Tyler flopped down on my couch, the same one where Terrence used to sit while Mia painted his fingernails during movies. He spread his arms out and told me that we needed to talk business, which made me stare at him in total disbelief. My father took the armchair while my mother sat beside Tyler, looking like they were preparing for a board meeting.
“Tyler found a spot in the Pearl District,” my mother explained as if it were the most normal thing in the world. “It’s a great corner location for a sports bar, but he needs a stronger capital position to get it started.”
She looked at me and said that he needed fifty thousand dollars and that I could help with my salary and Terrence’s insurance money. I sat down because my knees felt hollow, and I reminded them that my husband and daughter had been dead for only two weeks. Tyler rolled his eyes and told me that sitting in a sad house forever wasn’t going to bring anyone back.
My mother laid her hand over his and told me that maybe this was God’s way of letting me focus on my real family. I asked her to clarify, and she shrugged, saying I was always spread too thin with the Army and Terrence and that child. When she called my daughter “that child,” a cold fury settled over me and my shaking finally stopped.