This was my father's funeral: grey, quiet, and raining.

The melancholy weather complemented the small affair. Perhaps a dozen of us huddled in the chill mist as the pastor droned on. Standing before the foot of the muddy grave, he quoted scripture with the dryness of over-familiarity, an umbrella in one hand and the Bible in the other. My eyes had settled on the floral wreath resting on the coffin's head. It looked wrong there, full of colors too bright for the occasion. It sparkled faintly in the mist, flower petals bowing their heads reverently. Glenn and I had brought it, an apology for my lack of involvement in the arrangements. It had been Glenn's idea.

I scanned the faces of the crowd, my arm beginning to ache from holding aloft my own parasol. I didn't know most of those who had gathered. They were mostly elderly, craggy faces set into perpetual squints. They were the last dedicated members of the family. The old folk who still bothered to keep up with relatives, who attended all the reunions and special occasions. Eyelids drooped all around as the pastor rambled ahead into another verse. An old gentleman's chin sank down to his chest. It bounced up as the pastor raised his voice, then eased down again. They had collected themselves in a loose cluster near the end of the casket. Glenn and I hovered on their fringes, away from Mom and David. Maybe Mom knew who the elderly mourners were, but probably not.

Mom looked numb. Her blond hair curled listlessly around her face. White hair was creeping out from the roots, wispy and thin, like cobwebs. She cradled her cheek in a wrinkled hand as the pastor closed the Good Book and spoke to her softly, offering condolences. His legs wobbled beneath him, bowing under his frail weight. Her eyes were vacant, even as he pressed her hand kindly. Still, she lifted her head to smile and thank him politely for the kind words. Her gaze wandered absently over the rest of us, everywhere but at the grave. Only when our eyes met did there register any feeling in her face, a puzzled half-smile. Ache loomed in her eyes, along with a hint of wildness. Panic. My heart twisted and some hopeless expression crossed my face. My father was all Mom had. She hadn't been alone in thirty years.

The pastor raised his scratchy voice to thank everyone for coming. I cupped my face in my hands, makeup be damned. I didn't listen to him, didn't want to. Everything seemed hazy, the sound watery and distant. The pastor's voice came from far away, a tinny voice on an antique radio. Glenn's arm came around me as I leaned into him. His strong hand rubbing my hip soothingly. I didn't even know if I wanted to be comforted.

David glanced pensively across the field of grave markers that swept around us in the dewy grass. The hawk nose he shared with our father, set too prominently in his chubby face, gave him the perpetual sneer I remembered growing so tired of. Thinning hair clung damply to his skull as he held the umbrella for Mom, stooping because of her smaller stature. I kept thinking of Dad's face in the church as I looked at David. Dad's tired, weathered face, full of relief, had seemed far too young. They'd done too much to him in the parlor, and I hadn't been able to look at him for long. He didn't look quite human. Like a vampire, reclining peacefully in a cheap coffin.

I felt sick. Glenn was stroking the small of my back tenderly, reminding me of his presence. I couldn't shake the feeling that this was all for the best. Dad had worn himself out trying to keep the family afloat. His jowled face growing old so quickly, the lines deepening each year. That was the real image of my father, lurking close in my memory. An old man, sunken into the sofa, after a thankless workday. He never slept, his red eyes fixed on the television. And always, of course, rasping steadily on the cigarettes.

My throat tightened, tears rising in my eyes. I bit my lip, hard enough to make it hurt, to force them back. It was easy enough, really, to hold them in. But my lip was sore, ready to bleed. It had been a long service.

Finally it was over. A collective sigh was released, and the pastor mingled with the other mourners, shaking hands. Mom lurched away from the casket with David in tow. My head bowed as I gathered my courage, hardening my resolve. I hadn't wanted to come in the first place. This was why.

Glenn's fingers, stroking my back, slipped away as I retreated a few steps. I feigned a smile for him, half-heartedly. His own smile was awkward, understanding, and he clasped my hand. The dread lingering on my face betrayed my real feelings.
"I'll just be a few minutes," I murmured tremulously. I was holding onto his hand too tightly.

Nodding, he encouraged me with a gentle kiss, his warm breath tickling the skin of my cheek. "Okay, love."

It hurt to smile, but the squeeze of his hand felt so warm as I pulled away. I drifted, reluctantly, seeking out Mom with my eyes. The cool mist was glistening on my coat. Moisture was seeping into my clothing and hair, my grey turtleneck growing damp and cloying. I was sweating, even though I was deathly cold.

Mom and David had withdrawn from the others, Mom casting shaken looks back at the casket. I clenched my jaw and trudged after them. Each step felt leaden and duty bound, my hair bouncing against my cheek. It fell in two waves on either side of my face, like a hood, and I did not push it back. No one could meet my eyes.

Mourners were scattering across the cemetery. Most of the old folk shambled up the hill toward the parking lot in small groups. A few men congregated to smoke cigars and make small talk amongst themselves. I held my breath as I passed each, looking up only to find Mom and my brother in the dispersing crowd.

" - didja know 'im?"

"Mmm? Oh, no. Too far from Sally and I. Sounded like a good man, though."

"How is Sally by the way? I didn't see her."

"Oh, she's fine. It's her back again, you know. She's been pestering me to . . ."

My heels sank into the soft earth as I walked. Brushing a wave of hair behind my ear, I tried not to breathe too deeply. The rain had dissolved into a thick mist, almost suffocating. An angel scrutinized me as I passed, the old marble cracked and slick with condensation. Enshrouded in fog, the cemetery looked haunted.

I dug through my memory, and in my heart, trying to find something to say. A little ball of pain sat on my forehead as I struggled to string words together. But what was there to say that would mean anything? What difference would it make? Dad was her whole life. He had worked hard to support them both, leaving her alone much of the time in the cramped apartment they shared. David was always close by, of course - in his whole life, he'd rarely strayed far from home - but I had left them all behind when I'd gone to school back East. Very quickly after leaving, the long distance calls and the forcibly upbeat letters home had dwindled. Dad and David never wrote back anyway. Mom did, kindly. They were all so short, half a page of her careful scrawl struggling for something new to say. Even her letters had ran dry.

I longed for home, far from this tiresome little town.

Aunt Ellen and her daughter brushed past me, their footsteps squelching in the wet grass. David spotted their approach and gripped Mom's arm, trying to steer quickly her away. Holding my breath, I felt a tinge of hope and relief pass through me. Undaunted, Ellen called for them to wait, huffing after them. Her daughter ambled slowly behind, bored.
David glanced back in irritation but relented, slowing to a stop. Mom drifted forward a step before he caught her arm, pulling her back, and whispered in her ear. Her head bobbed dumbly, and she ran her hands over her face, sucking in a deep breath. Aunt Ellen was puffing like a train as she hurried up to them, her arms already spread wide. With a final short whisper, to which Mom conceded placidly, David made his escape. Thrusting the umbrella into Mom's hand as Ellen pulled up beside her, he moved quickly away to a safe distance.

Releasing a sigh, I rubbed my temples wearily, shuffling away to wait. Knowing I had to say something before Glenn and I went back. A lukewarm letter wouldn't do this time.

"Hey, Jen," David grunted, catching sight of me. I turned reluctantly, my hair sweeping across the back of my shoulders. He looked rather miserable in the thick, humid air. Sweat stains were forming around his arm pits, clear even against his dark clothing. When I didn't respond, he trundled a few steps closer. His long, flabby arms opened up for a hug automatically as he drew near, as if they were on springs, though his face remained impassive.

I surrendered myself into a loose embrace. The smell of him made my nose crinkle in distaste. His black attire reeked of cigarette smoke and dusty disuse. Even his hug felt rusty, too stiff and formal, and I stepped back hurriedly once he released me.

"Hi," I breathed faintly, running a hand over my cheek. It was a chore to lift my head and make eye contact. Dull blue eyes gazed back at me flatly. I glanced away quickly, over at our mother, murmuring furtively with Ellen.

"How's Mom?" I turned away as my voice broke, rising at the end. It sounded much too young and scared.

He shook his head, regarding me ruefully. "I don't know," he admitted.

We hovered together in silence for a moment. "Shaky," he added. "I guess."

My head bobbed slowly, and the ball ground harder into my forehead. I tugged uncomfortably at the collar of my turtleneck. It was sticking to my skin. Despite the chilly air, the enveloping mist was stifling.

David reached into his pants pocket idly, digging for something. As he did so, I noticed that the cuff of his jacket fell far short of his wrist. In fact, the more I pondered it, the more I thought it was the same jacket he wore to Ellen's daughter's wedding - her name escaped me - when I was still in high school. David never had been one for formal dress.

"Is that Glenn," David inquired curtly.

I looked over my shoulder to where he indicated. Glenn was waiting beneath an old Cyprus tree, hands stuffed into coat pockets. One of the old folk had cornered him for conversation, and he shook his head, trying to politely extricate himself. "Yes," I murmured, smiling softly, "That's him."

"New Yorker?"

"No," I returned lightly, "I met him at school. He's Canadian."

David grunted and I frowned, my lip curling up in annoyance. Trying to freeze a polite expression on my face, I turned back to him. But David was ignoring me, fishing out a crumpled pack of Camels and a tarnished silver lighter. I moved a few steps away, glancing fitfully toward Mom, who remained trapped in Ellen's sympathy. Mom shuffled from foot to foot, staring at the ground as my aunt rattled on.

The click of the lighter and the sudden cigarette stench drew me back to David. His eyes flicked over me as he took a long, grateful drag off the cigarette. Blowing out a plume of thick smoke, David looked up at the grey sky. The cigarette, cradled between his stubby fingers, was bent at a shabby angle. Pressing the back of my hand to my lips, I swayed uneasily, but didn't move.

"You look like Dad," I commented, my voice thick. Smoke floated by into the mist, like a grimy ghost.

Grunting thoughtfully, he squinted at me and took another puff on the cigarette. "Yeah." He made a noise like a laugh, sounding choked, and cleared his throat loudly. My eyebrows went up slightly and he smirked.

"Dad's," he explained in a gravelly voice, holding up the lighter. Another weighty cough. "The one he got in the army."

Nodding, I brushed back my hair and watched smoke clouds rising into the air. I thought about Glenn, waiting patiently as he always did, and the lure of the drive home. Back to the spartan but homey little place we shared. I could hear Ellen's voice wobbling with tremendous enthusiasm as she heaped solace upon Mom. The desire to leave nagged at me. To be finished would be a relief.

I rubbed my eyes as they watered, and bit my lip.

"Didn't expect to see you here anyhow," David muttered suddenly. His mouth, wagging open with something more to say, clopped quickly shut again.

I flinched. He averted his eyes, taking another hit of his cigarette.

"It's our father," I retorted, my voice shrill and defensive.

Exhaling, he put his hands up yieldingly. The cigarette butt smoldered, thrust in my face, and I backed up. "Hey . . . Jen," he retreated in a measured tone, "Shit, I didn't mean anything by that, you know."

My lips pursed as I glared back.

His voice was slow and even, "Hey, I mean, you haven't come home to visit or anything. Shit, you haven't even called since . . ." David struggled. "Since Glenn, when you told Mom you'd moved in with him."

Wince. I rubbed my forehead.

"It's just been a while," he added mildly, hiding behind his cigarette.

"Yeah," I breathed, looking down at my feet. Clots of mud were clumping onto my shoes like mold. My anger diffused quickly, leaving a sickened, hollow feeling in my stomach. Silence passed between us before I asked, "Are you taking care of Mom?"

David nodded emphatically, flicking the ash from his cigarette into the grass. "No one else to do it, you know."

"Yeah."

I added, tentatively: "Do you think she'll be okay?"

He shrugged, blowing smoke out his nostrils. "Yeah. Be tough but she'll be okay. Probably."

Licking my lips, I regarded him for a moment. Sucking on the moist end of his cigarette, he wiped at his balding head. The sweat smeared greasily onto his palm. God, he looked just like Dad.

Faintly, I started to say, "He was all she -"

"You know what they say," he cut me off sardonically, and intoned, "'The Lord will provide.'"

My mouth open, I tried to rebuke him. I wanted to. His blue eyes ran over me smugly, testing whether I would speak up for myself. I glared at him silently, my eyes pained. Why wouldn't the words come out?

David's eyes broke away, satisfied. I felt that ball boring into my skull.

"At least Dad took care of her," he continued after a moment, "Paid into that life insurance. She'd never make it without it."
Nodding, I pushed my hair back behind my ears. Dad had paid into that insurance pennies at a time, always looking forward. It wasn't meant to keep Mom comfortable. Such an idea was absurd. After all, half the money had gone to his own funeral. It was just the last great effort he had to provide, a way to keep costs from devestating her.

A hiccup of emotion rose in me, through my anger and exhaustion, like a bubble. "Dad always tried his best."

"Yeah."

Aunt Ellen's voice rose higher and I tossed her a glance over my shoulder, grimacing at her histrionics. A pang struck my heart as I saw Mom's cloudy eyes gazing through the other woman's shoulder, waiting for her to run out of steam. Ellen was rubbing Mom's shoulders, smothering her with kind words. A knot tightened in my stomach to join the one on my forehead.
"Shit," David breathed, tired and disgusted. "I better get Mom out of here."

Tossing the burning stub of his Camel away, he shambled away before I could answer. Walking languidly after him, I tugged at my collar as he broke Mom and Aunt Ellen apart, sharply dismissing Ellen's indignant protests. The mist was slipping into light rain, pattering all around me in the grass. A drop now and then tickled me as it ran through my hair. David almost had to manhandle Ellen away from Mom, barking a harsh "thank you" as she turned and peppered him with condolences. Mom drifted away aimlessly as they bickered. At last, with a stream of thank you's, David urged Ellen and her daughter away.

Sleepwalking, Mom teetered slightly, gripping a stone crucifix for support as she meandered ahead of me. Wiping away a raindrop on my cheek, I started after her. My breath clouded before me as I struggled through the muddy earth. "Mom," I called softly. "Mom?"

She began to turn, resting her weight on the stone, searching for the source of my voice. Swallowing, I picked up my pace, but David crossed my path, cutting me off in mid-stride. With his longer legs he quickly reached her side, grasping her arm lightly. I spat silent recriminations at his broad, sweat-stained back, and jogged after them.

David whispered in Mom's ear as I approached, glancing at me, and tried to lead her toward the car. He was nearly hauling her away. She sagged in his arm, walking drunkenly.

Stumbling, I kicked mud from my shoe and nearly lost the shoe itself. Hurrying up behind them, I caught my breath and touched her arm. "Mom?"

They stopped, and David fixed me with a slight frown. She was wobbling slightly against David, and began to sink to her knees, such that he slid his arm around her, propping her up.

"Mom," I murmured, as if to a child, "Come on, it's okay . . ."

Turning, her eyes lit up slightly, her haggard face worn and tired. The white in her hair was dull, frosting the faint blond that remained.

"Hi, sweetie," she murmured, her voice drained. She tried a little smile, with some effort.

"Mom . . ." My throat worked helplessly, my voice small. I clutched at her thin, shaking hand, and pressed it firmly in mine. The folds of her skin, wrinkled and delicate, were so smooth. They felt creamy, her hand feather light. Her lips tugged into more of a smile as she patted my hands gently in return. David's frown grew deeper, and he shot me a demanding look.
"Mom," I started, blindly, "I . . ."

Her eyebrows lifted expectantly above her exhausted eyes.

"I'm sorry," I said, my voice quavering. "I'm so sorry."

She looked somewhat confused and my heart fell. I stumbled through words in my mind.

"I love you," I said simply. My lip trembled.

Staring blankly for a moment, she nodded. Her voice was faint, but she made another weary attempt at a smile. "I love you, too, honey."

Silence.

"Come on, Mom," David murmured, "Let's go."

She squeezed my hand again, and he led her away.

The mist gave way to a cold, solemn rain as I made my way back to Glenn. It flattened my hair, sending it falling heavily to the sides of my face. My hair grew darker as it became damp, molding itself against my skull. I pushed it back, smoothing it out behind me. I wanted to let the rain fall on my naked face.

Glenn smiled tenderly from beneath the umbrella as I neared, and held his hand out. I took it gratefully, pressing close as he pulled me under the shelter of our umbrella.

"How did it go," he murmured, smoothing a wet curl of hair away from my forehead.

Shoulders slumped, I leaned against him, blinking water from my eyes. "It's finished."

"Lost For Words" is not my favorite short story, but it may be the most concise. It's been described as both "perfect" and "boring", both of which I think are true in some degree. There is a detached air about the events unfolding, due (in part) to the main character's numbed distance from her surroundings.

The story was written in quite a hurry, which explains the relative brevity. :-) With a deadline looming in my Creative Writing seminar, I panicked as the story I was writing failed to come together. In desperation, I cranked out this story in only two days.

I don't recommend doing that! It's draining.

The idea for the story had been on my mind for some time anyway. My father is a smoker, and I am terribly worried at times about the consequences to his health. Relationships are also rather tenuous in my family, and the morbid vision of his future death led me to think about the breakdown of family.

"Lost for Words" is copyrighted (c) 1999 Dana Hughes. No commercial distribution or reproduction is permitted.