The Funeral

<Door opens, closes, flick on a lightswitch>

Sit down.

{Pause}

I said sit. Down.

Stef locked the door already. No running out of this now.

<Listener reluctantly sits>

You have a lot of nerve showing up here today. You know that, right?

Nobody wants you here. Most certainly including myself. For the life of me, I cannot figure out why on earth you showed up, or why everyone out there in that main room hasn't driven you out the door yet.

You probably showed up drunk, too, right?

{Pause, no answer}

WELL? Are you just going to sit there and stare off into space? Can you even hear what I'm saying? 

{Pause, no answer}

<Glass shattering as one is thrown to the floor>

ANSWER ME!

{No answer}

God. Spineless as ever. Good ol' dad, always taking the path of no involvement and never sticking up for himself.

I hope you have a good reason for believing you have any right to be here.

You walked out on us when Katie was five. Five. Out of anyone she got to know you the least. Not like it would have mattered, having known a lethargic cancer of a father like you wouldn't have done much good for someone like her.

She stopped believing in you maybe three years ago. Gave up the whole 'maybe he will come around' bit. Because you won't. You never do.

She wouldn't have wanted you here either. I really don't think so.

The gall you have, showing up to your kid's funeral as the first public sighting in what, say a decade? 

Where were you when we graduated college? Huh? Where were you when Stef got married? Where were you when Mom was sick, dying, and dead? Couldn't fit that into your daily drinking regiment? Couldn't gamble on the odds of that working out for you?

If only your liver would give up as much as your mind has.

{Pause; uncomfortably long}

We dropped your last name. I'm sure you saw it. Sorry the Eriksons had to die out with you.

We worked hard to keep the family together. Stef and I worked full time jobs in high school to help Mom out. Katie did part-time, too. Stef had to wait three years to go to culinary school. Did you even have a clue they wanted to go into culinary arts? Damn good at it too. Some classy place in upstate New York. Michelin stars, I think.

We don't need your help now. We struggled enough with you being here, let alone the mess you caused being gone. I'm not even going to let you give it now, be it to me or the rest of the family. You're sure as hell staying away from the grandkids.

Is this some kind of cosmic guilt? Racked with grief only now, thirty years after you walked away from your family?

It's too late, Dad. You fucked up. The bridge to reconnection burned down forever ago, and we put up walls on the other side.

Hank was right. The intuition on that guy, I swear. He knew you'd come crawling back here. Man looked after us when you dipped,  the best he could. Hard when you've got your own family and kids to take care of, but he damn well did it anyway. Pretty soon we will probably start looking after him.

Same won't be true for you though.

Hank insisted you'd try to attend the service. Fine. Whatever. Guess neither of us expected you to try and come to the reception afterwards.

So here we are. Locked in a side room with just me. Away from the family. Away from my little sister. Away from the open bar. And away from the world.

You realize what this is costing me, right? That I can't go help my grieving sibling who is now forced to run this reception solo? That I can't comfort the kids that their aunt Katie isn't coming back? That I can't reconnect with our relatives who I never get the chance to see?

My sister is lying there dead and YOU are depriving me of getting the chance to mourn her.

This doesn't get do-overs, Dad. Nothing in life has do-overs. You, more than anybody on this miserable planet, should know that.

{Pause}

I try to live a good life. Be the better person. Have a legacy worth leaving behind. My fiancé and I hope to have kids in the next year or two, and while I might not have all the clues in life, I certainly know how not to live one. So thanks for that.

But let me be perfectly clear. For as much "love your enemy" as I try to believe in with my life and religion, you are a strong exception. I hate you. The hate I feel towards you could never be summarized by any amount of words in any language. Your very presence makes me sick.

{Pause}

Never knew your past. Refused to talk about it. But I do know that you tricked my mother who loved you for years into believing you had any worth and abused the hell out of her kindness. Lazed around pretending to watch and raise the kids but became suspiciously too busy to do anything that mattered to them. All while she worked to the bone to substantiate your lazy ass and your drinking habits. 

Then she finally did the right thing and kicked you out. Suddenly we start getting big bills in the mail in your name. A place we had never been to, and didn't even live at. Then came legal threats from the casino. Trying to sack your ex-wife with your financial bullshit is unbelievable. We don't know what got it to stop to this day.

Then you vanished without a trace. Mom checked the obituaries in the newspaper every day for years to see if you had died. I think she cared a lot longer than she let on.

At the same time, I'm in college, struggling to make friends because I refused to drink or smoke pot or whatever the hell else they were out doing in bars and clubs and parties. I would lie alone at night, unable to sleep, only taking solace in knowing I'd never end up like you.

Decades later and that still rings true.

Poor Katie was left to mostly fend for herself in school because Mom and Stef were too busy keeping the house and car payments down.

You ruined my life. You ruined Stef's life. You ruined Mom's life. And you definitely ruined Katie's.

{Pause}

Don't try to "I'm sorry Remi" me now, that's not going to work. Your apology is empty. I will not accept it.

The door is locked. I'm keeping you here until the ceremony is over. You have ruined enough, and I'm not letting you go further by ruining this funeral.

I'm sure your time is coming soon enough. May it be cold and alone like the rest of your sad, pathetic existence.

When this is over, I hope to god you never show your face around here again. Not near my family, not near Stef's. I'm willing to exact that with force. 

You wanted out? Then stay the hell out.

Now shut up and mope on that couch. We have another four hours ahead of us.

END.