Daniel rolled a can between his
palms to give his hands something to do. He had to keep his mind off of how
uncomfortable he was. The chair he sat in was rigid and unsympathetic and his
suit felt half a size too small. When was the last time he had worn it? His
hands paused. Was it prom? Had he really gotten bigger since prom? Probably
not, he’d more likely gained weight. What should be more alarming is that he
hadn’t bought a new suit since high school.
“I don’t know half the people in
here.” Aaron said to Daniel’s left. Aaron scanned the guests again, “Maybe not
any of them.” Aaron unbuttoned his jacket and leaned back into the chair
watching the guests intently. “Who are these people?”
On Daniel’s right a softer voice
spoke, “Is your dad coming, Danny?” Angie asked, ignoring Aaron’s grumbles.
“He said he’d be here around eight.”
Danny said, he began to spin the can again and focus on its spiraling top. He
was so uncomfortable. The fluorescent lights were also too bright, chasing
darkness out of every corner. It made everyone’s clothing look all the more
black.
The three of them watched from a
corner. The funeral parlor was filled with the quiet murmur of mourning. Bodies
moved slowly around the room, pooling into small puddles of conversation.
Daniel pulled at his sleeves hoping
that the material would stretch. He placed the can on the floor and tugged hard
on the cuffs. The cloth resisted. He’d have to remember to buy a new suit.
An elderly man approached them and
smiled sadly. He clenched Daniel and Aaron’s hands and squeezed as though
trying to impart strength into them. The man hugged Angie softly and rubbed her
back between her shoulders. He then
stepped away from them and moved to the next group and began again.
“Who the fuck was that?” Aaron
asked. Angie was rolling her shoulders trying to shake the man’s awkward
sympathy. Daniel sat back down and plucked the can back up. He looked at the
clock on the wall, which read eight-thirty and began to spin the can again.
