The Wake

Darrell looked up from his cell phone, glanced around the room, and rolled his exasperated eyes. He scoffed and shifted in his chair. These people, he thought, they had never cared.

His aunt’s audible sobs broke through the relative muteness of the funeral parlor. Of course, she always made a scene. Even at a funeral, she was the center of attention.

Cousin Blanche, as she preferred to call herself, stood up, and the whispers hushed.

Darrell sneered at Cousin Blanche and her hypocrisy. Cousin Blanche made Auntie Clarabelle’s life miserable. Blanche spent most of her adult years trash-talking Clarabelle, though Clarabelle was older by at least a generation.

Darrell loved Auntie Clarabelle and her easy and open personality. Auntie Clarabelle always had a smile ready for him, wrapped in infinite patience.

“Blanche has a special venom she spews by the drop and at intervals, so she’ll never be empty,” Auntie Clarabelle told Darrell many times.

“It’s all about the money her mother and I inherited…