Till Death Do Us Part: Part 2

The sultry August air hung motionless and damp. Only the sweet smell of the magnolia tree saved Millicent Abernathy from utter misery. There in her father's den, she stood before a handsome, stately casket and looked down at the lifeless form of her father, attired in a formal blue suit. She noted with envy her father's cool, dry condition.

"Well, that's one way to stay cool," she quipped sarcastically.

She ran her fingers through her hair, pulling away a few blond, sweat-soaked strands from her face. Having just showered and put on a fresh cotton dress ten minutes earlier, Millicent was greatly annoyed to find herself once again sticky and drenched.

She looked down at the old man again and thought, 'he's really no different dead than he was when he was alive. He's still as stiff, cold, and unfeeling as ever.' She ran her fingers along the sleek, polished, mahogany coffin with its shining, brass handles. Inside, the elegant blue velvet lining cradled her father in stylish comfort. 'He always had to have the best for himself,' Millicent thought.

Millicent remembered when she'd gone to the mortuary two days before and discovered that her father had pre-arranged and paid for his funeral years before. The mortuary director had remarked how practical and sensitive Dr. Abernathy was to have spared his future widow the stress and expense of choosing the casket, the lot and all other sundry arrangements.

"Oh no," she'd said. "He just wanted to go out in style. He knew if it was left up to the family, we'd have buried him in a refrigerator crate." Eye's bulging with horror, the director excused himself and briskly walked out of his office.

In addition to the finest casket and choicest of plots, Edward Abernathy IV had specified that his viewing be held in the den in his manse, in the Abernathy tradition. Seeing the old man in this setting now brought Millicent back to the time when her grandfather, Edward III, had lain there in a similar casket when she was only five years old. In her minds eye she could see her trembling little, five year old, body standing in the doorway to the den.

"Millicent," Edward IV said, "that is your grandfather over there, and I want you to go over and kiss him goodbye." The austere Edward Abernathy III had never said anything to her other than to tell her children should be seen and not heard. She was terrified of him when he was alive, and now, in her five years of age, she was even more terrified of him. She fully expected him to sit up and grab her throat at any moment. She felt his evil in the air.

Frozen and shivering in fear, Millicent clung to her mother's skirt.

"Edward, can't you see she's frightened? Let her be, she's only five."

Her father stooped over and got right in her face, and said in a commanding voice, "Millicent, go over and kiss your grandfather. His spirit will not rest until all have properly bid him goodbye with a kiss. It's Abernathy tradition you know." He placed his hand more than firmly around the back of her neck and guided her roughly up to the casket. She stared into the ghostly old man's face, make-up caked on, hair looking like a wig. Her knees grew weak, the hand on her neck grasped more tightly. Then five year old Millicent Abernathy promptly vomited all over her dead grandfather, Edward Abernathy IIl.

A tap on the door of the den woke Millicent from her reverie. "Want some company, sis?" asked Claire.

"Pleeaase," Millicent said.

Together they looked down at their deceased father. Without missing a beat, Millicent said bitterly, "Well old man, you got what you wanted. A fancy casket, a choice plot, and a room with a view right here in your cigar-stinking den. And no little five year old girls to barf on you."

Millicent and Clarie's eyes then met and they howled until they were doubled over and tears were streaming from their faces.

© Lori Colbo 2011