Wake

Date: 11/2/2020

My friends and I are trying to board a ferry. I chance my luck and skip the queue to make sure I get on, as there’s not enough space for everyone waiting. Some of my friends have made it on too, but not Patrick. I say to J, when did you get here? I’m at my Gran’s wake. It’s in her house. There’s muffins. I say hi to my uncle. He doesn’t look at me; I feel as if I’ve forgotten that his mum has just died. I find my Gran in the hall and hug her to comfort her, not realising that she is the person we are here to mourn; that the person she is sad about losing, is herself. She turns my hug into a waltz. My dad comes in the front door and whispers to my ear not to listen to her bigoted words. She asks, what did Martin just say? I make up something.