WEBVTT
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To the restless, the insomniacs, the stressed out, the overwork
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the doom scrollers, the worried, and the board. This is
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for you. Good writing is meant to make you think.
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This is the opposite. Short, funny and unfortunately true stories
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that have mostly to do with nothing to help you
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turn off your brain and turn on your ram. All
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names have been changed to protect the guilty. These are
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anxiety addicts bedtime stories.
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Craig was funny, his family was not. They're just well,
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they're really uptight, Like, don't joke around too much because
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they won't laugh and that's a terrible feeling. Also, they
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take funerals very seriously. Craig stole a glance at Jennifer,
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his girl friend of six months, who sat in the
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passenger seat on the way to Omaha to meet her
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new boyfriend's family for the first time and attend his
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aunt's funeral. This was not the world's best situation for
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a familial introduction. Now, Craig and Jennifer had been separately
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divorced for about five years and were taking this new
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relationship slowly, which explains why she had yet to make
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the drive from Cedar Rapids to Omaha. Aunt Betty's health
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hadn't been great in years. She was ninety seven and
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a half and often called a firecracker of a woman.
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The night before she passed, she gathered her three sisters
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and brother in law into her room, where she meticulously
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read off a three page list of handwritten grievances about
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each of their personalities. Then she kicked them all out
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and died in her sleep. Before anyone could summon a rebuttal.
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That was Betty. She got the last word, and this
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thickened the family air with tension. They were devastated to
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have lost the eldest sister, the matriarch of the family,
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but also in a secret and very waspy way, they
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were all really pissed at her. Craig turned off the highway,
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reaching over to pat Jennifer on the knee. She was
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the best thing that had happened to him in years.
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They met at a concert after she tripped and accidentally
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dumped an entire plastic cup of cors Light all over
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the front of his wranglers. It very much looked like
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he pissed himself, and it was very awkward. When Jennifer,
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in her pink cowgirl boots tried to help him clean
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it up. They each had two children, girls for him
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and boys for her, from their previous marriages, and although
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they weren't rushing into a Brady Bunch situation, they were
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really looking forward to the day when that would become
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a reality. Got it, no jokes, of course, it's a funeral.
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Jennifer tried to appear somber, but she and Craig could
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not stop cracking up. When Craig's mother, Sharon called and
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reiterated all of Aunt Betty's personal gripes. Craig answered the call.
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Sharon didn't even bother with a hello. She said that
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I bring every conversation back to myself and that my
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tuna noodle castrole is inedible. My castrole is Grandma's recipe
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and everyone loves it. I'm probably the best cook of
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the family, although no one has ever appreciated me, Sharon continued,
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unbeknownst to her on speakerphone. Their weekend itinerary was pretty standard.
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They would stay at Craig's parents' house, go out to
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dinner at the local steak place Friday night, and attend
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the funeral on Saturday, with the wake back at the
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house Saturday afternoon. Craig had royally pissed off his mom
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by suggesting that he and Jennifer stay in a nearby hotel,
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and he knew that this would be a lot of
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time together as a family. His two girls would arrive
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Saturday morning. They'd heard so many great things about Jennifer
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and seen countless photos on their dad's newly discovered Facebook page,
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but had yet to meet her because of their college schedules.
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It was going to be a jam packed forty eight hours.
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When they pulled up into the recently swept driveway of
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his parents' split level home, Sharon was sitting on the
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porch swing, tapping her foot as if they'd kept her waiting.
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Her eyes watered ringed with red, a stark and vulnerable
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contrast to the bottom of her face, where her mouth
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was set in such a perfectly straight line of irritation
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that it looked like it could have been drawn with
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a ruler. Sharon had worked up until her retirement at
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a small real estate firm in town. She'd married her
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high school sweetheart, raised her children, paid off her mortgage,
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and considered her life to be a success. She went
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to church every Sunday, ironed every article of clothing in
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her closet and did not like pets. Like so many
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of us, Craig had decided that he wanted a very
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different life for himself. Poor Sharon almost blacked out when
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her eldest son came home from college and declared that
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he was going to pursue a career as a stand
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up comedian. It was okay, that didn't work out, but
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Craig did become a writer, and as of this story,
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he's published dozens of books, ranging from a series of
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children's titles to a well received memoir, and quite a
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few novels centering around Midwestern families. Sharon has read none
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of them. She prefers the Bible. Why would you try
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to compete with the ultimate storyteller, she asked him while
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he was visiting while on a book tour. They were
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at the stake place and Craig had down to martini,
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which partially dissolved both two olives and some of his boundaries. Wait, mom,
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he said, between SIPs, you think God wrote the Bible
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like with a pen? Craig laughed. His father studied his
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baked potato. Sharon looked at him as if she'd been
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slapped across the face by a complete strain. This dinnertime
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scuffle took place in mid June, and Sharon refused to
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speak to her son until Christmas morning. During those six months,
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she would only communicate through other family members. Unfortunately for Sharon,
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her level of passive aggressiveness earned her a point of
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inspiration for a character in his new book, which Craig
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felt safe and knowing that she would never read. So yeah,
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Like he said, the Thomas family was not exactly known
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for their sense of humor. Craig took Jennifer's hand and
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gave it a squeeze. Thank you so much for being here,
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and I'd like to apologize in advance for anything and
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everything that slips out of my family's mouth. They met
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Sharon in front of the house with a hug for
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Craig and an awkward handshake for Jennifer. She was my sister,
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Sharon wept into her son's ear. I'm so sorry, Jennifer offered.
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Sharon barely looked at her. Well, come on in, she
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said with a sigh, as if she wasn't the one
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who absolutely insisted on their presence. The house was exactly
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like you may have imagined. It posed. Family photos adorn
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the walls. A well loved floral sofa separated the kitchen
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from the living room. Two matching lazy boy recliners flanked
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the fireplace. It was clear that everyone in this family
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had their usual seat. Jennifer couldn't help, but wonder if
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there was a place for her. The Omaha rains started
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exactly an hour after their arrival and did not let up.
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Jennifer looked in her suitcase and cursed her choice of footwear.
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She'd brought tennis shoes, low heels for the funeral and
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higher heels for this dinner. Oh. She finished her makeup
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and met the family downstairs. We're going to Craig's favorite restaurant,
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Sharon announced to the family for the sixth time. But
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who was counting Craig His mother an encouraging smile. We
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do have a lot of good memories from Shorty's, don't we, mom? Yes,
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mostly with Lisa. Now, Lisa was Craig's ex wife. Since
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the divorce, Sharon took every opportunity to remind anyone with
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an earshot that she missed her. If this fact ever
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found its way back to Lisa, she would have enjoyed
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a solidly good laugh about it, because Sharon had been
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a miserable bitch to her for the entirety of the
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eleven year marriage, and now, said Craig, we can make
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new memories. Damn. He was good at being his mother's son.
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He picked up her quilted coat and helped his mom
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into it, then opened the side door for the family
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to file into the garage. Dinner was a ball full
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of laughter and drinks and fun and no wait, sorry,
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that was the table next to them. Next to the
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happy family, Craigs looked like they'd been pulled straight out
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of American Gothic, that iconic photo of the farmer, his
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wife and the pitchfork. They ordered soup, not salad for
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their starter, and all except for Jennifer got the steak special.
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Jennifer didn't know that everyone always ordered the same thing,
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and felt self conscious about her trout from the moment
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it was served until the table was cleared. She also
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had two glasses of wine and didn't realize that she
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was the only one who ordered a second round before
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it was too late. The anxiety in her stomach bubbled
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up to her throat as she tried to make small talk.
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Is this rain unusual for this time of year. Sharon
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gave Craig a genuine smile. She didn't mind trying. If
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this relationship progressed like she thought it would, she would
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plan to see these people twice a year tops. We
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need rain, replied Sharon. Everyone complains about the rain, but
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how else do you expect food to grow in the ground.
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No one knows where anything comes from nowadays. They just
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assumed the grocery stores open and the shelves are full.
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Sharon made a face that held enough contempt for anyone
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who had ever stepped foot into a Kroger. Jennifer saw
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on opening. I I actually worked at an al d
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all through my undergrad to get my degree. Stocking the
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produce was an oddly rewarding job. Sharon raised an eyebrow
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and then went back to reminding her husband that there
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would be no dessert since they were not out to celebrate.
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There is no winning with this woman, Jennifer thought, while
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folding her napkin and excusing herself from the table, accidentally
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bumping into a waiter carrying a coffee tray on her
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way to the bathroom. Standing at the sink, Jennifer reapplied
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her lipstick, straightened her skirt, and clasped the ankle strap
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of her heels one hole tighter as she felt a
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bit shaky. Droplets of coffee lightly stained her cream cart again.
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She breathed. Wished that Craig had been more forceful with
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his mother when he tried to book them into the
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local Hilton. Jennifer tried to focus her mind on meeting
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his daughters, Jane and Pamela, the next day. She loved
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her two sons dearly, but Jennifer was excited about having
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some daughter figures in her life. Her boys teased her
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shoe collection and never appreciated a new pair. Their trips
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together were always adventurous, whether hiking or whitewater rafting, but
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Jennifer was not exactly born with the coordination of a
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soccer star. These trips often ended with her, at best
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covered in band aids, and worst, at a trip to
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urgent care. She couldn't help that she found herself daydreaming
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about pedicures and movies with Craig's girls. She wiggled her shoulders,
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popped a piece of triy dead in her mouth, forced
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a smile, and willed herself back to the table of
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misery where thankfully, Craig's father was signing for the check.
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Thank you so much, Jennifer offered, it would be better
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if we didn't have to be here, Sharon remarked loudly
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to the entire restaurant. Jennifer bit her tongue literally. Her
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eyes welled up with tears as she tasted a drop
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of blood. Sharon noticed and found some softness in her voice.
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But yes, dear, thank you for being here. Oh, Sharon
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misread the watery eyes. Oh, well, thought, Jennifer serves her right.
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That night, Jennifer popped her melotonin and was moisturizing her hands.
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When Craig came to bed. He always looked so cute
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in his gray T shirt and plaid pajama pants. She
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couldn't help but raise an eyebrow in his direction. Not tonight,
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he laughed, These walls are paper thin, and he snuggled
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in under the covers next to her. You're doing so
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well with my mom. Why jeopardize anything. Jennifer couldn't help
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but laugh. She wondered when the house had last heard
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that sound. The next morning, over grocery store bagels and
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Folger's coffee, Jennifer did her best to help around the
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house with arrangements for the wake. Still she found herself
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being shoot out of the kitchen with the eleven different
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cast roles and then tripping over the family dog. Jane
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and Pamela showed up an hour before the funeral and
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had to stand in the vestibule for seven minutes to
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be fully chastised by their grandmother for being late, even
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though they arrived fully dressed and ready to go. It
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was really not a great set of circumstances to meet
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the girls. Everyone did their best to be polite and cordial,
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but the layer of tension that settled over the house
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felt like a giant weighted blanket, and not in like
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a comforting way. The rain continued, Sharon pulled out the
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golf umbrellas and galoshes as if God was throwing water
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down from the sky just to personally ruin her day,
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holding on to Craig's arm. At the cemetery, j Jennifer
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was introduced to far too many family members to keep
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track of. A sideless tent had been erected next to
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the grave site, but it was hardly any competition for
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the precipitation. The mood wasn't quite as depressing as the weather.
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No one appeared particularly heartbroken about Aunt Betty's passing, and
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the gossip regarding her three page manifesto had blossomed into
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a full blown familial catastrophe, with everyone whispering to each
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other about the old woman's grievances with this person and
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that The priest made a sweet but recycled speech about
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the meaning of life and finding joy in the everyday
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and mundane things. This was a message that the family
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outwardly nodded and agreed with, although Jennifer questioned whether anyone
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would take Father Paul's advice to heart ashes to ashes
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and dust to dust. The priest continued as mourners began
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to make their way to the casket to toss the
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fresh earth on top. Jennifer held tight to Craig's elbow
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and allowed him to guide her lower back towards the coffin.
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The slippery ground was a formidable foe to her green
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crock printed pumps. Jennifer reached down to take a handful
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of dirt to take part in sending Aunt Betty off
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to whatever awaited her next. And that was when it happened.
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That was when Jennifer's three inch heel pushed its way
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into the muddy ground, robbed her of her balance, and