“Was that why my clothes always smelled like lemon?”
“Don’t be silly. You couldn’t smell things in that body. Hey, what should I wear to the funeral tomorrow? I don’t think my monk robes are appropriate, but it’s been so long since I’ve worn a dress.”
“Wait a minute. I used to wake up under the bed wondering how I got there.”
“Shh, shh, shh, quiet time. Rest. Rest. Sleep.” She gently stroked his penis like she was petting a kitten.
There was a thump in the hallway like someone had dropped a bag of dicks.
Which Little Pony is appropriate for a funeral?” Jane asked, flipping through Sophie’s closet.
“I don’t think any,” said Charlie. “It’s a wake, Jane.”
“Smurf ? Little Mermaid? This big red dog, I forget his name?”
“Doesn’t she just have a normal little dress?”
“Why are you taking her to a funeral anyway? She’s just a little kid. Despite her being the big D, she doesn’t really get death. After you, uh, died, it was pretty awful trying to explain.”
“What did you tell her?”
“I told her that when you die, fluffy monkeys take you shoe shopping with a black card.”
“That’s horrible.”
“And very hetero,” said Cassie from the other room.
“No, it’s not. I see what you’re saying, Chuck, but Sophie didn’t even know Cavuto.”
“We’re not going for Cavuto. We’re going for Inspector Rivera. He saved my life. Sophie wouldn’t even have a daddy if it weren’t for him, so we’re going. Funerals are for the living.”
“Fine. What’s Audrey wearing?”
“A black dress.”
“Well, I can’t go now, that’s what I was going to wear.”
“No, you weren’t. I saw my charcoal Armani hanging on the doorknob in your room.”
“Okay, I wasn’t, but Cassie was, so she can’t go, so I can’t go.”
“Gray dress,” Cassie called from the other room.
“Not helping,” Jane shouted. To her brother, under her breath, she said, “Can you believe we marched for the right to marry, for that?”
“You didn’t march,” Cassie called.
“How did you hear that?” Jane said. “Do you have this room bugged?”
“Jane, please, can we find something?” Charlie said. “Audrey’s waiting downstairs.”
Before Jane could dig back into the closet, Sophie marched into the room, past them, pushed her toy box over to the closet, climbed on it, pulled out a blue dress, jumped down, went over to the bed, where she laid out the dress, then crossed her arms and looked at them.
Charlie and Jane slunk out of the room to give the child the privacy she seemed to require.
“It’s my Armani,” Jane said. “You were dead.”
“You swiped it when I still lived here. What tie are you wearing?”