Page 45 of Drum Me Away
Maria lifted her hand, squeezing her pointer finger and thumb together. Her bright red nails matched her dress. “Little bit.”
“Oh, Maria.”
“I bet there’s coffee inside,” Dahlia said. “I’ll go see if I can grab a cup and bring it out to her.” She hurried across the asphalt toward the funeral home’s entrance, where cars were beginning to line up, dropping off guests under the canopy before finding a parking space.
“Mom’s going to kill me,” Maria announced.
I nodded. “She sure is.”
CHAPTER16
Faith
In all my years,I’d never seen Maria not put together. Even when she woke up in the morning, even during the junior high years when everyone else in the world didn’t fit into their own skin, Maria always looked perfect.
Today, she was a hot mess. Don’t get me wrong—she was still gorgeous, but she was dressed for a polo match, not a funeral. And she was drunk.
Oh God, was this my fault? We’d shared a bottle of wine two days ago; had I corrupted her?
“I’m honoring Grandma,” she announced, flinging an arm around my shoulders and turning us to face my friends, who were all huddled under umbrellas, watching this spectacle that was my sister.
For the record, Maria had never been a spectacle in her life. She didn’t normally stand out; she was the person behind the scenes, setting up the stage props, ensuring everything ran smoothly.
“You, on the other hand, look like our mother,” she added, pursing her lips.
I laughed. “Wow, I never thought I’d ever hear anyone say that to me.”
“You should see Ava. You two could be twins.”
I cringed. I was so happy that Maria and I had reconnected after all these years, but I wasn’t holding out hope that our older sister and I would have the same sort of reunion.
“Did you talk to her?” I asked. “Does she know you’re drunk?”
“I talked to her, but she was staring at her phone the whole time, brokering a deal or some shit.”
“First, that’s not what our sister does for a living. And, oh my God, now you’re swearing. Maria, whoareyou?”
She grabbed my arms, turned me to face her, and heedless of our audience, said, “Faith, Vic wants to have another baby. I don’t want another baby. At least, not with him.”
Ooookay, so my sister was having an existential crisis. Probably past due, but at our grandmother’s funeral, in front of family, was not the time.
Dahlia returned with two cardboard cups full of steaming dark liquid. “They’re small, so I brought two. Also, it’s shitty coffee, be forewarned.”
Maria laughed like she’d told an uproariously funny joke.
“I want some of what she’s having,” Ice quipped.
“And I want some of you,” Maria retorted, eyeing him like he was a piece of candy and she was about to take a bite.
Gabe inched closer to Ice, his arms crossed over his chest.
“Here.” Dahlia pushed a cup into her hand, and Maria obediently lifted it to her mouth and then spewed dark spittle, luckily not hitting anyone.
“That’s hot,” she complained, swiping her hand over her mouth.
My phone vibrated in my clutch. Impatiently, I pulled it out and glanced at the screen.
Great. My mother. “Hello?”
