OCTOBER

At the Wake

Oct 12, 2016 Part 2

Weight: 116 pounds still

Ate: nothing since my last entry

Drank: a flute of champagne

Sex: not a funeral but hopefully tonight.

Dear Diary,

This wake had two ex presidents. I shook their hands. I hadn’t ever thought this girl from Hialeah might ever meet foreign dignitaries.

Or that my Spanish would be so well received, or that suddenly Peter holding my waist took on a second, more important call.

I could be a banker’s wife that everyone could ask for help.

Peter funded the world economy and I could be part of that.

Of course that would mean he’d need to marry me.

I have to do everything right, and not just here. As they started a more formal meet and greet where Peter would shake hands with every guest, I tugged on his sleeve and asked quickly, “Do I look okay?”

He massaged my lower back and nodded at me. “You look great. Ready to go?”

They shook hands with more people she could count.

The handshakes might never stop. I ignored how my stomach grumbled.

I’d eat later.

Or never. However in between handshakes, we had moment so I asked, “Peter?”

“Yeah?” He asked and glanced at me.

Those brown eyes of his made my heart flutter. I smiled at him and nodded, “I’m glad we’re a team.”

He kissed my cheek and said, “Me too, Jennifer. I don’t have many friends.”

Wow. My face and entire body burned and she hoped she wasn’t bright red. My belly had flutters and I needed to explain that to him. I licked my lips and tried. “Friends. Yeah, about that?”

Someone came by and  shook Peter’s hand. My heart raced but I pasted on a smile and shook the dignitary’s hand and then his wife. Once they were gone  he asked, “What?”

If I told him, now… no, that was a bad idea. I’d make a scene. Peter hated scenes. I shook my head a little faster than I should and ignored the coldness that inched up at me and I couldn’t blame it on the air conditioning as I said, “Nothing, we’ll talk after the funeral.”

Peter glanced around the ornate funeral home that could double as a Cathedral as his lips thinned and said, “My father arranged this himself. It’s likely to be on television.”

Yeah I made the right call. He definitely didn’t want to hear about my feelings. I shook more people’s hand and as then they were done for a few minutes.

I closed my eyes and remembered. This was where they had the closed casket wake for Victoria, Peter’s sister and her oldest friend. 

Wow. How had I not realized? Drat. No wonder Peter didn’t want to talk. My stomach grumbled again and I wished I could eat.

The House of Morgan