Sydney picked up a pen, squared her shoulders, and looked at her big sister. “Let’s get to work.”
“I got this,” Hillary said with a stiff set to her shoulders.
“Let me help you,” Sydney insisted.
“No, you have enough on your plate. I’ll handle it.”
“Why do you always do this? I’m not a little kid anymore, Hill. I don’t need you to protect me. Let me help you.”
“Just let me do it,” Hillary snapped.
“No.” The firm set to Sydney’s jaw took her back.
“No?”
“You have heard the word before at some point, I’m sure. Hillary, I’m not letting you do this on your own. Either you let me help, or I’ll tell mom you keep the family painting she made us sit for in the closet.”
“You wouldn’t.”
“Try me,” Sydney said as she sat down at the table. “Our parents should be doing this, but we both know they won’t. So let’s do it . . . together.”
Hillary’s chest nearly split in half as a tear dripped down her cheek.
“Okay,” she said quietly.
And just like that, the two of them began sorting through the ridiculous demands of a woman who had controlled everything in life and was still managing to control them in death.
While they were working, her mother came down and stood in the doorway to the dining room where they had the papers spread out. She gave a disapproving hum that Hillary could feel in her bones.
“Are you two really doing the things detailed in that ridiculous list?” she said as she tapped at it with her perfect manicured fingernail.
Hillary bit back a sigh and, with a tight smile, said, “Well, they were her last wishes.”
“There are people who can take care of this,” she said coolly.
“We are family. Isn’t that what family does?” Sydney protested.
“It just seems like a waste of time. Can we push the funeral an hour? Your father has a business call he can’t get away from.”
Sydney’s mouth fell open. She was about to protest, but Hillary knew it was futile.
“I’ll send a message to the funeral home. As long as the programs and obituary haven’t been printed, I’m sure it won’t be a problem,” Hillary said.
Her mother simply nodded and turned around.
“I can’t believe her!” Sydney exclaimed.
“Really?” Hillary asked in disbelief. This was so typical. So fucking typical.
“Has it always been like this?” Sydney asked quietly.
Hillary chewed on her lip. Shielding her from this for years may have been a disservice, but she was seeing it for what it was now, and for Hillary, how it always had been.
“Let’s just get this over with,” Hillary said as she emailed the funeral director.
—
By the time the last call was made and the final email sent, Hillary felt wrung out. She dragged herself upstairs, showered off the day, and collapsed into bed.
