Brendan pulled loose his tie and collar. Shannon cleared her throat as he turned away from their mom's grave site. But he couldn't deal with the fake people swarming her. Father Molina fell in step beside him.
"The uniform looks good on you," the old priest said.
"Good thing," Brendan said. "It's the only one the Air Force gave me."
He stopped at this mother's car. He would've killed for a smoke but it was nearly a week since he quit and it was too cold to enjoy it, anyway.
"Shannon doesn't seem happy. But if it wasn't for her friends, no one else would be here for your mom's funeral."
"They're not her friends," Brendan replied, checking on Shannon's progress. The sharp, cold wind buffeted her honey-brown hair. Otherwise she greeted the girls with complete composure. "They've hated her since middle school."
"Makes sense," Father Rodriguez snorted. "Puberty gave them acne, braces, and awkward growth spurts but it gave her that body."
Brendan's stare killed the old priest's laughter and he stammered. "You know what I mean."
Brendan nodded. "They only showed up to see if she gained weight at college."
"I can never remember which one of you is the oldest."
"Shay, by ten months."
"You should come with me to the VFW hall. You two won't have to pay for your drinks."
"I'm nineteen," Brendan said. "They won't let me drink at all."
"Well, they won't make me pay for my—"
"We're not going to a bar," Shannon said, keys in hand. "We've been working for three days to close up Mom's house and we're both beat. Bren, let's go."
Hotel valets ran crazy around a backup of vehicles as Shannon turned into the parking lot. Finally, a van pulled out and she was able to park the car. Brendan unloaded her bags from the trunk as Shannon traded her keys for a ticket.
She took Brendan's hand. Her face reflected the relief he felt. Finally free of their mother's sour shadow. Still there was a massive void of emotion neither could name.
Dozens of kids with scattered parents and coaches clogged the hotel lobby.
"A cheer competition," Shannon said. "God, I don't miss that."
"Come on upstairs," Brendan said, taking hold of her largest suitcase. "We'll call down for a room."
Forty-five minutes later, Shannon exited the bathroom, towel-drying her hair. "How did you get a suite?"
"Benefits of the uniform," Brendan replied.
"Thanks for the shirt and shorts, by the way. I can't believe the washing machine was out at Mom's house."
"You mean the circus tent?" Brendan teased. His Air Force T-shirt and fleece running shorts swallowed his sister like clown clothes. "I ordered a couple of burgers from room service. The front desk said they'd call if they can find a room for you."
Shannon moved to the desk/table/bar setup. "Oh, good, you got ice and drinks. How did you get booze?"
"Courtesy of my tech sergeant," Brendan replied. "She knows I can't buy it."
Shannon joined Brendan on the short couch with two plastic cups.
He took a sip and the Jameson Whiskey eased over him. "That's good. Maybe it'll help me sleep,"
"You can't either?"
"As much as we worked to close up the house, we should both be ready to drop into a coma," he said, taking another pull off of the cup.
"I got Mom's sleeping pills," Shannon said. "We'll both sleep good, tonight."
They watched TV with the weight of things unsaid hovering over them until the food arrived. Then they picked at the burgers without enthusiasm.
The room phone rang and Shannon answered it. After a short exchange she cradled the receiver to her chest. "The only room is on the other side of the hotel. Can I just stay here, tonight?"
"Please," Brendan said before he could modulate the emotion in his voice.
Well into the second whiskey, he addressed the elephant in the room. "Something has been hanging on you like an anchor for the last day and a half. What's up?"
Shannon said nothing at first, nibbling at the fries and ignoring the burger. "When I was getting the jewelry and papers together I found Mom's diaries."
"Oh, good," Brendan said. "She kept a written record of how disappointing we were. Don't read that crap, it's not good for—"
"I think Mom was sleeping with Uncle Mike."
The words slammed into Brendan hard as a fist. "What did you say?"
"You heard me. She refers to taking trips every summer when we were at camp."
Brendan argued. "Trips aren't sleeping together."
"She wrote about them having sex. She called him a horny billy goat, in her diary."
"Did she call Uncle Mike by name?" Brendan asked.
"Not by name."
Brendan continued. "Okay, so, she had a boyfriend."
"A boyfriend? Nobody liked her but Uncle Mike. She's buried next to him, not Dad."
"Shay, Dad died in a training accident and is buried in the national cemetery."
"She called him Finnias. Saint Phineas was Uncle Mike's patron saint on his confirmation certificate."
Vertigo seized Brendan and he held his hands up.
"You don't believe me?"
Brendan looked in her eyes but had to look away. "I forgot my batting helmet once. When I went back home to get it, I heard Mom laughing from the kitchen. She was on one side of the bar and Uncle Mike was on the other. They both looked nervous as hell."
"What the fuck?"
Brendan continued. "I heard her say Finnias when I walked in the house. Days later I asked her about it. She slapped the shit out of me and told me to mind my own business."
Shannon stood and stretched her toned body. Brendan looked away before she caught his stare. She took his cup and made fresh drinks for them both.
He shook his head. "I never thought about why she would do that. Just assumed it was just more of her hateful shit."
