Chapter 1 - Held Between Two Men
Their hands were already on me when I realized the music had stopped. Two men in black suits, one on each side, their fingers locked around my upper arms through the thin sleeves of my black dress. They weren't dragging me. They were walking me, steady and practiced, forward between the rows of chairs while everyone in black turned to stare. My hair kept falling into my mouth. I could taste salt and lipstick. I tried to breathe without sobbing out loud.
She was standing near the front, close enough that the light caught her black earrings. Brown hair pulled tight back from her face. Mouth pressed into a line. She didn't look at me the way the guests did. She looked past me, at the men holding me, and gave the order like she had already decided it before I walked in.
My name is June Calloway. I was twenty-two that morning and I had come to bury my father.
The funeral room was dim and too warm. Flowers crowded the front. The air smelled like lilies and cold coffee. My heels caught once on the carpet and the man on my left tightened his grip to keep me upright. I heard a chair scrape. Someone whispered. I kept my eyes down because if I looked up I knew I would cry harder, and I was already crying hard enough that my vision blurred.
Then the big screen behind the casket lit up blue. It was supposed to show photos. Instead it filled with his face, close and clear. My father in his dark suit and white shirt and dark tie. Short dark hair combed back. He looked directly into the camera. The whole room went still around me, even the two men. Their steps slowed. I felt it in my arms first, that half-second of hesitation.
"Get her out before the guests see her."
That was what she had said. Cold. Low. Meant only for them, but I heard it.
I didn't understand at first. I thought the video was old. A welcome. A thank-you for coming. Then he spoke, calm and firm, to the entire room, and his voice went straight through the speakers into my chest.
May you like
"If anyone removes my daughter from this room, they lose every dollar."
No one moved. The man on my right didn't let go, but he didn't pull me forward either. His hand stayed hot and heavy on my arm. I could feel my own breathing shake on the inhale. I lifted my face toward that blue light with tears still running, because for the first time since I walked in, someone in that room had called me what I was.
