The Funeral Makers by Cathie Pelletier

Author:Cathie Pelletier
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Sourcebooks, Inc.
Published: 2014-03-25T16:00:00+00:00

THE IVYS AS NOMADS: NUCLEAR FAMILY ABOUT TO BLOW UP

“All happy families are like one another; each unhappy family is unhappy in its own way.”

—Leo Tolstoy, Anna Karenina

Pearl was awake first, or at least opened her eyes first. Everyone but the children had slept fitfully. Regina kept a foot pressed to Pearl’s stomach throughout the night and, no matter how many times Pearl shoved it away, it came back in a matter of minutes. Thelma cowered on her side of the bed, not sure if she was more afraid of an outburst from Junior or her mother-in-law. On the floor by Pearl’s side were Junior and Cynthia. Randy and Marvin Sr. shared the floor near Thelma. Pearl had managed to persuade Sarah Pinkham, who was a bit ruffled at being awakened past three in the morning, to let them have extra blankets and pillows. But the room was not a large one, and the cluttered bodies lay upon the bed and floor like the sad remnants of a refugee camp.

“We’re stuffed in here like sardines,” Pearl thought at five a.m., when Regina’s small hoof kicked her again. “This is as bad as them German camps.”

At six thirty, Cynthia sat up and rubbed her eyes. She remembered being brought to her grandparents’ room in the middle of the night. It had been raining. But why they had left the campground was a bit vague. She remembered shouting and crying and threats of violence. There had been a fight between her father and mother, she suddenly remembered, and looked to see if they were still alive. Since they were, the night before was immediately filed in the back of her mind where its information might or might not be used someday. She started humming “Pop Goes the Weasel” and twiddling her fingers, sometimes snapping them loudly in hopes that the others would wake up. So much for Thelma’s prophecy the night before that the children would be scarred for life.

Randy heard his sister and sang along with her, his fingers giving in to occasional snapping themselves.

“It’s time for cartoons,” said Regina and sat up.

“Stupid, there’s no TV up here in the sticks,” said Randy.

“Aunt Sicily’s got TV, stupid yourself,” Cynthia said.

“Shut up,” said Pearl. “We need some more sleep. If you want to talk, go outside.”

“Children, hush now,” said Thelma, terrified to excite Pearl again.

“It’s raining out,” said Cynthia, who had lunged over her father, stepping on his sore wrist, to get to the window.

“Oh, Jesus Christ,” said Junior. Swearing was not one of his usual methods of expression, so Thelma feared he had been riled up again. She got up quickly, realizing the children were up for good, and tried to collect them into an orderly group. Pearl put both feet on the floor and clutched her housecoat about her. Marvin Sr., who had slept in his pants, splashed some water on his face. The rest of the group dressed arduously, bumping into each other, passing items back and forth, requesting that backs be turned, or eyes covered when strategic parts of the body were exposed.

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