Her right thumbnail pressed into her left thumbnail so hard the skin at the tip of her thumb turned ivory.
Her heel teetered on the step leading up to the altar.
Yvonne Kaller looked at the feet of her other siblings in the front pew.
She couldn’t claim stage fright, or inability to speak in public.
She was a TV meteorologist, the spokesperson for the state’s Cystic Fibrosis charity,a high school debate champ.
This would not be for the woman in the casket.
This would be for her brothers and sisters, for their peace and sanity.
She would not lie.
She would be positive.
She had no prepared remarks, though she had thought about what she would say and what she couldn’t say until she had vomited into the small garbage can next to the bed in the hotel room she reserved because she could not spend the night in the family home.
The reaction to her decision to not convene and commiserate where they had grown up garnered reactions from apathy to rage.
The priest introduced her.
Her heel wobbled, she dug in, stepped onto the altar and spoke into the microphone.
“Thank you for coming.”
She smiled, and could almost see her Intro Broadcast instructor smiling at her from somewhere.
Yvonne Kaller could fake smile better than anyone.
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