“We’re still potty training,” Patrick said, quick, licking his lips and looking in the rearview mirror at Lewis. “And the twins are so stubborn, both of them. Maggie and I already apologized to dad and the pastor.” He cleared his throat, gearing up to change the subject. Pat was always the mediator, conciliatory and willing to meet you in the middle about anything—except his kids. Lewis probably hadn’t been trying to pick a fight with Pat but given the chance Bryan definitely would. “I wanted to ask you, dad,” Pat said, craning his neck to look at dad in the mirror, sitting in the third row. He grimaced, his mouth stretched down as he shifted in his seat, hands clenching and unclenching on the steering wheel. “How did you...You know, with mom’s body, and—” “I was following your mother’s last wishes,” dad said, his voice hard. “I didn’t like it, Pat, but after Dr. Paul’d come and did the death certificate, I had a few words with him. And the funeral director, too.” Dad sniffed. “He was one of your mom’s so-called brothers.” Mom had been very explicit in what she wanted before she passed. She’d been barely lucid enough to recognize any of us at the end, much less give us a detailed end of life plan, but she had been so insistent before, so clear and sure and cogent, that even though none of us liked it we didn’t really feel like we had a choice. We didn’t have to like it, we all decided. But we’d do what she wanted. Because we loved her. # The drive was already pushing two hours, no one except dad sure where exactly we were going. He’d given Patrick minimal directions, and when Lewis had asked where we were headed before we’d gotten in the car, dad had just said that we’d see when we got there. Trees were thick along the side of the road, still flush with leaves. The colors were starting to change, going from green to fiery autumn. I’d been staring out the window for most of the ride, my head aching. Patrick had the radio going, some instrumental satellite channel that was supposed to be relaxing, and he went back and forth between trying to hum along and muttering to himself if there was a particularly rough patch of road. “See that sign?” dad said. “Coming up on the right? Turn there, Pat, and I think it’s just a mile or so more.” I sat up straighter. It had been torture to be in the car for so long, and I felt an
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