Chapter 73

Carly looked two sheets to the wind, waving limply, raising her bottle to me. “I’m sorry about your father, Chris. How’re you doing?”

“Fine, thanks,” I yelled back.

“Who’s the handsome man with ya?” Carly asked, fumbling to stand up and falling back into the swing, Adam reaching out to catch her.

“My husband,” I said. “Philip.”

“We should have dinner one night,” Carly shouted as if I was deaf.

“Yeah, buddy,” Adam supported his drunken wife, raising a hand, gesturing his approval. “You and Philip should come over tonight. We’ve got lots of beer. We’d love to have ya.”

“Maybe some other time,” I said, waving and running up the front steps, two at a time.

I held the door open for Philip.

I waved goodbye to the Bellinghams and disappeared into the house, grocery bags and my father’s remains tucked tightly under my arms. 24

A feverish chill washed over me as I entered my mother’s house, Philip close behind me, carrying the extra grocery bags with this evening’s dinner.