My father surged to his feet and told me to watch my mouth, but I didn’t blink as I told him to watch his instead. I opened the front door and told them that they didn’t get to pitch a bar funded by my husband’s life in this house. I told my father he didn’t get to talk about legacy when he couldn’t even stand by a graveside.
“If you refuse to help your brother,” my father shouted, “then you are no daughter of mine.”
I looked him in the eye and told him that in that case, he should understand I had become an orphan two weeks ago. They filed out one by one, with Tyler muttering insults and my mother clutching her purse in indignation. I shut the door and turned the deadbolt, feeling the adrenaline drain out of me as I slid to the floor in the silence.
Part 4
I lasted forty two minutes before I picked up my phone to call the only person left in that family who mattered. I remembered my Uncle Silas, my father’s younger brother, who had been the only one to actually show up at the funeral. He had hugged me after the service and said he was sorry in a voice that was rough enough to be true.