Page 46 of Drum Me Away
“Is that you and your hoodlums, hanging out in the back of the parking lot? Smoking cigarettes and doing drugs, I suppose.” The smugness in her voice made me want to tell her that was exactly what we were doing. “And who is that woman in the red- and-white polka dots? Who wears something like that to a funeral?”
She was absolutely going to shit a brick when she realized that none other than her favorite daughter had made that fashion faux pas.
“We’ll be in shortly,” I said and disconnected the call. “I don’t suppose anyone brought an extra dress that isn’t bright red and white?”
Angel raised her hand. “I couldn’t decide, so I actually do have a pantsuit in our rental car. And we look to be about the same size.”
“You’re a lifesaver,” I said, absolutely meaning it. I looped my arm through the crook in my sister’s elbow, pulled her along as I followed Angel to her car. Maria didn’t even complain when I stripped her and dressed her again in the middle of a parking lot. Granted, we were in the back and no one else had come anywhere close to this corner, and the guys all formed a row of cleaned-up rockers between us and the funeral home. Even if someone wandered this way, they wouldn’t see much, and those deep frowns and suitcoats stretched over taut muscles would scare off anybody who was attending this particular viewing.
We finally got one cup of coffee into Maria, which seemed to make her a little more alert if not sober. I braided her hair, since I wasn’t about to let her wear a giant straw hat into the funeral home, and she looked plenty lovely enough in Angel’s navy pantsuit. Angel hadn’t brought a second pair of shoes, but to be honest, the red heels worked. Even fashion-expert Dahlia agreed.
“Okay, we just need to make an appearance,” I said as we all headed toward the entrance. “Maria, you need to go in, smile, pay your respects, and try not to speak to anybody. And then we’ll find Vic and tell him he needs to take you home.”
“Vic is going to be mortified,” Maria said.
“How does he not know you’ve been drinking? Didn’t you come to the viewing together?”
She bobbed her head. “We came together. I had wine at the house, but it wasn’t doing the job fast enough, so I stashed a bottle of vodka in my purse—where’s my purse?” She glanced down at her arm, apparently just now realizing she didn’t have her monstrous bag.
Dahlia said, “I’ll go find the purse. What am I looking for?”
“The largest purse you can possibly imagine,” I said.
“It’s red,” Maria supplied.
“You have more than one giant purse?” I asked. The one she’d had with her on Monday and Tuesday had been brown.
“Of course,” Maria said with all the indignation of a woman who understood the importance of matching one’s purse with one’s outfit.
“On it,” Dahlia said, and then slipped away.
“Wow, she’s really nice,” Maria observed.
“This is what she does. She takes care of people for a living.” She was a publicist for several famous bands and I think a few actors, but it was essentially the same thing.
“I would hate that job,” Maria commented.
“Well, good thing you won’t ever consider pursuing her type of career.”
“I want a career, though,” Maria mused, sounding sober, although I had a feeling the subject matter coming up was a result of her drunkenness. “But all I’m good for is being Riley’s mom and Vic’s wife. And now he wants to add another baby to that list.” She paused. “I guess I could do Dahlia’s job after all. Turns out, all I do is take care of other people.”
“Yes,” I said. “And you’re really good at it. But if you want to do something else, you can, you know.” I knew I shouldn’t get sucked into a seemingly deep conversation with a drunk person, but she was my sister, and I’d suffered through far too many years of low self-esteem as a result of our upbringing. If I could help her get over hers, I had to try.
“Not according to Vic. He says taking care of Riley and managing the household—which includes managing him—is a full-time job.”
“Maybe Vic should step up and help take care of his kid and his household,” I snapped.
I felt a hand on my arm and glanced over at Lucas.
“You know she’s drunk, right? You aren’t going to be able to reason with her,” he whispered, echoing my own thoughts as he bent close to my ear and sent butterflies storming through my stomach.
This was all too much. If I weren’t careful, I was going to have my own existential crisis, right here at Grandma’s viewing. Side by side with my sister.
As much as I craved the idea of leaning on Lucas for support—he’d certainly proven he was good at that—I couldn’t right now.
I had to help ensure my sister did not gain black sheep status with our mother or her own husband. I had to maintain my distance from our mother so I didn’t do something crazy myself. Oh, and I had to say my final goodbyes to one of my favorite people in this world.
Oh yeah, and at some point—in the very near future—I had to get with Dahlia and figure out how to address the rescheduled tour dates and the link to me in my grandmother’s obituary.
