Chapter3

The funeral director met me at the front desk and wouldn't let me past it.

"Ms. Calloway, I'm so sorry. Your mother's cremation was completed on Tuesday."

I didn't understand the words. "Cremation? I haven't signed anything. We were supposed to have a viewing. A service..."

He checked his notes, careful. "We called your cell to confirm the arrangements. A young woman answered. She said you'd decided against a service. No viewing. Direct cremation, the most basic package. She said you couldn't afford anything else."

I never got that call.

Then it came back to me. Tuesday, buried in the rebuilt pitch, I'd looked up and caught Chloe holding my phone. When I asked, she'd giggled and said she grabbed the wrong one.

No viewing. No service. No one to sing the hymns she loved. My mother left this world in a cardboard box, and I wasn't even in the room.

They handed me the urn in a paper bag. It was so small. I tucked it into my backpack and went home.

The moment I walked in, there was Chloe.

She'd spread herself all over the place. My throw blanket was in a heap on the floor. Her stuffed animals had taken over the couch. The mug Mom painted for me was in the trash, and a pink acrylic organizer sat in its spot.

"Hey, Wren!" Chloe smiled up at me. "Damien didn't think it was safe for me to rent alone, so I'm crashing here for a while. Like, company housing. He even put one of his security guys out front for me."

This was the house Damien and I bought to start our marriage.

I crossed the room, eyes locked on her. "Chloe. Did you answer a call from the funeral home on my phone?"

She made a big show of thinking about it. Then her face lit up. "Oh! Yeah, that was me!"

"You were so busy. And honestly, you're broke. It's just some dead old hillbilly. Why waste money on a show? You should be thanking me."

I slapped her across the face.

At that exact moment, the front door flew open. Damien stood there, dark and furious. "Wren, what the hell are you doing?"

I didn't look away from him. "She canceled my mother's funeral."

"She ran it by me first." He said it mildly, like it was nothing. "I told her it was a kind thing to do. You couldn't afford it. Besides, your mother grew up in a trailer in the backwoods of West Virginia. People go out the way they lived. Learn where you stand."

Something cold went all the way through me.

In all the years we'd been together, he never once came to see her. Even this week, with her sleeping in our guest room, he'd been too busy to sit down to dinner with her. He hadn't even saved her a seat at our wedding.

I'd just gotten good at looking away.

"Apologize to Chloe," he said.

I grabbed the vase off the console table and hurled it at the floor. Glass burst everywhere. "Not in a million years."