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"We have power of attorney."

"I’m sorry, the terms of the pre-need…"

"She’s the executor…"

"Mr. Prendergast…"

"Holt…" Mrs. Prendergast starts.

Holt exhales through his nose again, shifting uncomfortably in his chair. The funeral director bites his lip. The three of them sit in silence for a moment. "If that’ll be all…" The director says, cutting through the silence. Holt stands up, followed by Mrs. Prendergast. Holt’s glare lingers on the director before he turns and follows his wife to the door.

10-08-04, Friday

Drearily dressed mourners fill the tacky room bathed in muted beige; several of them are seated in awkward, padded metal chairs, but most of them are standing around in small groups, looking at each other with obligatory concern as they speak in hushed tones. Holt, flanked by mourners on either side, stands behind his wife, who is seated a few feet from the long, ornate mahogany coffin. Mrs. Prendergast appears to be talking constantly, while Holt only occasionally nods at the passersby before returning his eyes to the floor.

Thirty feet across the room, a college-age couple sits on a couch separated from the rest of the group. The young woman stands immediately, walking over to a water cooler to steal herself a drink before returning with a half-full paper cup. As she takes a long, painfully slow sip, her eyes drift up to the stationary line of mourners queued next to the coffin. The young man makes eye contact with someone as they pass by, and then looks over at his significant other. As her eyes stay fixed, he clears his throat gently. Finally, he takes in a deep breath.

"How well did you know your Uncle?"

"Not well…" She responds immediately.

"…are you alright?"

She looks off to the side.

"Okay… stupid question…"

"I don’t care." She interrupts.

"…at all?"

"My mom always told me to call him Uncle Bill… he insisted on William… I don’t know, I think it was just to piss him off."

"…I get the feeling there’s a… I don’t know how to put this…"

"Apathy?"

"That’s one way to put it."

"I could sit here all day and tell you about how fucked up my family is, but that’s the way it goes."

"…true."

She continues to drink slowly, looking at the mourners.

"Which is which?"

"Uncle Bob and Aunt Rhonda on the far left… Uncle Holt and Aunt Judy next to them… Uncle Bob number two and Aunt Yelissa to their right… my mom and dad… and Uncle Joe and Aunt Enid.  Rhonda, Judy, Bob, my mom, and Enid are the brothers and sisters."

"I think you mentioned Holt…"

"He changed the will."

"…I thought his wife had power of attorney?"

"He makes the decisions."

"Ah, gotcha. What’d he end up changing?"

"It was supposed to be an open casket."

"So, uh… what… why…"

"Cheaper. He wanted to change the coffin too, but they wouldn’t let him. He’s fighting the funeral home over something else still… he’s such an asshole."

"How do you mean?"

"…he was never a dick to me… he just has to be right… not like I care, my Uncle Bill’s fucking the rest of the family out of his money, and he’s loaded."

"Was loaded."

"Well, if he takes it with him…"

"Good point."

"…so, who gets what’s left?"

"Who the fuck cares?"

"…in sure and certain hope of the resurrection to eternal life through our Lord Jesus Christ… who shall change the body of our low estate that it may be like unto his glorious body, according to the mighty working, whereby he is able to subdue all things to himself…"

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