Legion

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My father has died.

Melissa emails me about it, but I rarely check my email. Somehow, she manages to get hold of my cell number and sends me a text to call her ASAP. I don’t. She calls an hour later and I send the call to voicemail, which I later listen to and hear about his death and how the viewing will be Friday night and the funeral Saturday morning and Mom would really like it if we could all be there so please, John, please do try to make it if you can. She even offers to let me ride along with her and her family-her Wall Street husband and two adorable kids-but she probably knows I’ll decline anyway, not wanting to be a tagalong but also dreading the idea of spending hours imprisoned in their SUV (that’s what I picture they have, anyway, some big Mercedes or BMW that they only take out of storage the few times they leave the city each year) with a sister and brother-in-law and a duo of nephews I never talk to despite the fact we both live within ten miles of each other.

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