Even then, Eleanor remained standing for a moment, arms folded tight enough that the navy fabric stretched over her ribs. June lowered herself first, purse in her lap. Michael stood in front of them both with the absurd sensation that he was about to moderate a hearing in which every witness had already testified too much and too little.
“Either one of you can walk back to the grave alone right now,” he said. “Or we can sit here and do this without making Dad’s grave a show.”
“Your father made it a show,” Eleanor said.
June laughed once, softly and without amusement. “On that point, we agree.”
The fact that they agreed on anything should have been hopeful. Instead, it only made Michael more tired.
He had known this day would be difficult from the moment the calendar turned toward May and stores began hanging red, white, and blue decorations in their windows. Memorial Day had always been loaded in the Avery family, first because Thomas was Army and then because he was retired Army and then because he was dead and buried under white stone, which changed every old patriotic ritual into something close to accusation. As a child, Michael had grown up watching his mother starch his father’s dress blues, pin ribbons straight, and rehearse the social composure required of military wives. As an adult, he had watched the meaning of those rituals sour after the marriage failed.
Thomas Avery had once been the most impressive man Michael knew.
He stood six feet three in uniform, all spine and certainty, with a voice that could settle a room and a grin that made strangers feel chosen. He had enlisted at nineteen, married Eleanor at twenty-four, and built a life so structured by service that everyone around him learned to orbit schedules larger than themselves. Michael’s earliest memories were full of polished shoes by the back door, duffel bags leaning in corners, and his father’s meticulous rituals before leaving: wallet check, key check, watch check, hand on the crown of Michael’s head as if confirming the boy was still there.