The Funeral That Ended Us

The funeral chapel was so quiet that even the faint hiss of the candle flames seemed loud.

Three days ago, my father told me the crash was bad. He said he'd handled all the paperwork and all I had to do was sit through the vigil. Don't look. Don't ask.

I cried until I was dizzy. I never even looked at the death certificate.

The casket was empty beneath its white cloth.

My father had told me her body was too badly damaged for me to see. He warned me not to open it.

There was no cremation authorization. There had never been one.

My father, Robert Whitmore, had simply rented the chapel. As far as the staff knew, we were holding a memorial service. No one was getting cremated.

Even the countdown was fake. My father had made up the "ten minutes before the cremation" and sent it to me himself.

The hotel stream hadn't been live either.

By the time the video reached my phone, they were already sitting in the funeral home parking lot, waiting for me to see it.

My mother, Carol Whitmore, stood in the gown I had helped her pick out, surrounded by white wreaths. She bent down and brushed a spot of candle wax from the hem.

I grabbed the flower stand and forced myself to my feet.

"Worried about the stain? Do you know I kept candles burning for you all night? I sat beside an empty casket until morning, thinking you were dead."

My father's face darkened.

"That's enough! Your mother is trying to keep this family together. Don't you get that?"

My brother, Grant Whitmore, stepped in front of her.

"Nina has waited a long time. Do you have to make things hard for everyone?"

Adrian came running in with a boutonniere still pinned to his chest.

He saw me in my black mourning dress and froze. Then he rushed over and crouched in front of me.

"Why are your legs so cold? You sat here all night. Why didn't you ask someone to stay with you?"

His palm rested against my calf, so warm it almost made me cry.

He lowered his voice.

"Take off the black dress."

I pulled my leg back.

"Do you actually feel sorry for me, or are you just afraid I'll scare Nina?"

I stared at him.

"You knew they were lying to me, didn't you?"

He didn't answer for a long moment.

"All they told me was to keep you away because your mom had gone to the hospital. How was I supposed to know they'd do something like this?"

I didn't look away.

"And the wedding?"

Adrian swallowed hard.

"They told me it wouldn't be real.

"They said Nina's depression was back. She'd swallowed a bottle of pills a few days ago and had been crying nonstop since she woke up.

"She said she'd spent her whole life in your shadow. Even the man she loved had chosen you first.

"Grant said she couldn't take another blow.

"He asked me to fake the wedding. No paperwork. No announcement. No marriage license.

"Just enough to get her through this.

"Once she was better, we'd explain everything."

I laughed.

"So you said yes."

Adrian looked at me and lowered his voice.

"I thought you'd be mad for a few days and then get over it.

"Evelyn, you've always been the reasonable one.

"I figured once it was over, I'd make it up to you. I didn't know they'd make you hold your mother's funeral."

I looked at the wall of white flowers.

"But you knew the moment you walked in here. I sat here all night. When you saw me, you were still more worried about Nina being scared. Adrian, you chose their side."

Carol burst into tears.

"Evelyn, I had no choice. Nina has loved Adrian since she was a child. You know that."

Adrian held out the invoice.

"You booked this funeral chapel. Go cancel everything. Don't turn your mom and Nina into some kind of spectacle."

I looked at him.

"You want me to clean up this mess for you?"

He looked away.

"Isn't it great that your mom is alive? Do you really have to keep this funeral going?"

A funeral home attendant appeared in the doorway. "Ma'am, do you still want the portrait up?"

Adrian lowered his voice. "Evelyn, just take the photo down."

In the black-and-white photo, Mom's smile was gentle and kind.

Carol frowned at her photo. "Don't ruin it. That's a good picture of me."

My hand shook, and the frame bumped against the flower stand.

Adrian caught my arm.

"Easy."

I shook him off and took the portrait down myself.

The frame was cold against my chest.