Fractured from the Fall

Whose Funeral Is It Anyway?

"There's a man at the front door for you," she said, and it seemed like all conversation halted as she said the words. The proverbial record player screeched to a halt and all eyes were on Lily. Her first instinct was to run, but that would make an even bigger scene, so instead she set down the stack of used paper plates she was clearing and walked toward the foyer where she saw a man in a dark gray suit whom she didn't recognize. No cowboy boots, no hat. He wasn't from these parts. His Seersucker suit stuck out like a sore thumb.

"Lily Adler?" the man asked.

"Yes?" she inquired, her heart beating out of her chest. Even though she didn't know him, she knew who he was and she couldn't believe this was about to go down, right here, right now, at Grant's funeral in front of all these people. Grant would definitely be rolling over in his grave right about now.

"You're a difficult person to find."

Lily gulped, waiting for what was to come next. She was mortified, but tried to keep her composure.

"You've been served," he said, his previous happy tone taking a serious turn. He handed Lily a thick Manila envelope and abruptly turned to leave.

Lily didn't have to look inside. She knew what was there: divorce papers from Richard. She knew when her father answered that phone call the other day, while she listened quietly from down the hall, that the mystery caller was Richard's lawyer. He had tracked her down. Her refusal to sign the papers was getting in his way of slapping a ring on the finger of his new girlfriend, little Miss Big Tits, and both Lily and Richard knew well enough that the only way that pretty young thing was with him was because of his money. She wouldn't stick around for too long if he were in the middle of a nasty drawn out divorce. Lily was old news and Richard was ready for his next shiny new toy.

Gathering what small shred of dignity she had left, Lily took a deep breath and turned to face the house full of people who had all stopped their conversations to witness Lily's humiliation. Was this Grant's funeral or her own, because Lily felt like dying. 

As their judgmental eyes stared back at her, Lily began to feel hot. It was all too much: Grant's death, seeing Ford again, her divorce that she was trying to keep hidden being broadcast to the entire town. She felt like she might faint. She tried to keep her composure as she made her way towards the bathroom. The last thing she wanted on top of everything, was to pass out in the middle of her brother-in-law's wake.

She shut the bathroom door and leaned against it, just as the panic fully set in. She tried to slow her breathing, a technique her therapist had taught her after Richard went public with his dalliances, causing Lily to have daily anxiety attacks.

She found a full glass of white wine that someone must have accidentally left behind, and without thinking, grabbed the cup and chugged its entire contents. As the liquor took over and pulsed through her veins, her breathing slowed, and she began to feel better. What was the big deal anyway, she told herself. People get divorced all the time. And why did she care what these people thought about her? Her internal pep talk, and the buzz from the wine, gave her just enough strength to make her way out of the bathroom and back into the party. Unfortunately, she only made it a few feet before she overheard two girls she knew from high school speaking about her in a whisper that was purposefully loud enough for her to hear.

"Oh my god, how embarrassing?" said one of the women.

"I can't believe she's still wearing her wedding ring. So pathetic," said the other.

"It's even more pathetic that she showed up to Grant's funeral after all these years."

"Not as pathetic as Violet marrying her sister's sloppy seconds." They both roared with laughter.