Everyone swears they’re going to be there for you when someone dies, but three days later there’s nobody around. Before the funeral, people brought crappy casseroles and gelatin salads over for days. After the last one was gone, my dad realized there was no food in the house. I had noticed, seeing as I don’t eat gelatin or casseroles, but did anybody care I was practically starving? Nope. Mom asked me to go to the store with her. Grandma and I used to go grocery shopping together every Thursday night. She liked this grocery store that was a half-hour away because it was cuter than the usual warehouse-like ones and was part of a strip mall. First we’d go look at the candles and decorations at the stationary store next door. Grandma always bought cards for people. She had sent me one for every holiday, always with a twenty-dollar bill inside. Halloween was the first time I hadn’t gotten a card from her.

Next, we’d go to this little clothing store where I’d usually find a sweater or something and she’d buy it for me. I never asked her to buy me anything—in fact, sometimes I even tried to talk her out of spending money on me—but she had to get me something. There was one time when I tried on a bunch of stuff and I liked it all, but I told her I didn’t need any more clothes. I didn’t want to be like my cousin Tara who only spent time with her so she could get stuff. But while I was changing, Grandma took everything I tried on up to the counter and bought it for me.

After we went to the clothing store, we’d stop and have hot chocolate at the bookstore café while reading tabloids. We’d always read who was dating whom and then try to figure out if it was a real relationship or if they were just together to promote a movie. Then we’d finally get to the grocery store and load up. Grandma was into organic food. She might have eaten a lot of red meat, but at least it was organic. She always said preservatives were bad for you, and she got me buying all organic fruit and things. However, when it came to junk food and ice cream, as long as it was in the health food aisle, she didn’t care. She’d buy gluten-free cookies, all natural cream cola, rice chips, and we’d always go through the ice cream drive-through on the way home. Then we’d go back to their house, and I’d watch TV with Grandpa and finish my ice cream while Grandma did the crossword puzzle. Now it felt like I couldn’t even drive past a grocery store without wanting to cry.

When Mom and I walked into the store, my chest felt tight. Then I saw a box of the organic cookies Grandma liked and started crying right in the aisle.

“Emme, I know, it’s hard, but Grandma wouldn’t want you to be sad,” Mom said as she dug through her purse for a tissue. “All I have is an old receipt from the drugstore. Try not to get the ink on your face when you blow your nose.”

“Can I get the cookies?” I asked. “And a bottle of the natural soda?”

“I don’t care, but I don’t want you to be miserable. You know you’re going to just sit there crying and eating,” she said. “Oh man, they have those rice chips she always ate. Get two bags. I want to drown my sorrows, too.”

As much as I missed Grandma, it also felt like I was starting to miss Grandpa, even though he was still here. He would constantly ask, “Where’s Mom?” and sometimes he’d even ask, “Is Pop home from work?” about his own father who had died years before I was born. But at least Grandpa didn’t seem scared like Grandma had been. He might not have known whose house he was in, but he seemed happy if I put on a ball game and gave him some Cheezy Kurls and a glass of fruit punch.

In the past, we always spent Thanksgiving at my grandma’s house. She used to make the turkey, dressing, cranberry sauce, mashed potatoes, and a big pumpkin pie for dessert. Now Caroline and my uncle were coming over to eat a meal my dad had picked up premade from the supermarket. How depressing. Mom had the Thanksgiving Day parade on for Grandpa. I didn’t think it was necessary to get dressed up since it was just my aunt and uncle, but Mom told me to change out of my jeans. I put on my beige pants and my favorite black turtleneck sweater. I didn’t feel like doing my hair so I pulled it back into a ponytail.

Caroline brought over some flowers for the table, and everyone was trying to be upbeat, but it wasn’t working. The only sounds we made during dinner were eating noises, and I realized how disgusting it was to listen to someone chew. I only ate the mashed potatoes and corn because the stuffing had bits of turkey in it and the green bean casserole had bacon in it. There was also a sweet potato dish, but it had marshmallow in it and the thought of mixing candy and potatoes grossed me out. I cut a big piece of pumpkin pie since I was still hungry.

“Emme, you should eat your dinner and not just the dessert,” George said.

“I did eat my dinner, but there’s meat in the stuffing and in the beans,” I said.

“So pick the meat out,” he said.

“You can still taste the—”

“George, leave her alone,” Caroline said. “Let’s just have a nice family dinner.”

He sighed. “I just think—”

“Emme’s old enough to decide for herself,” she said.

I made sure to put extra soy whipped cream on my pie just to annoy him. He told me about the importance of animal protein, and how I’d basically shrivel up and die without it.

“Interesting, well, I need to catch up on my homework, so I should head upstairs,” I said.

I overheard George say it was rude of me to leave when I had company over, but Mom said I needed to make up the assignments from the days I missed for the funeral.

I sat on my bed and flipped through my phone. I knew Kylie was at her grandmother’s house, Brendon was with his grandparents’, and Margaux had gone to Kentucky to visit her family. However, Rory had said that her family wasn’t super traditional so I took a chance and called her.

“What’s up?” I asked.

“My whole family is crazy right now. My uncle overcooked the turkey, and my aunt called him stupid, and now everybody’s mad at each other. What’s going on with you?” she asked.

“I dunno. Everything’s weird. I needed an escape from everybody,” I said.

“How’s your grandpa taking it?” she asked.

I didn’t want to tell her Grandpa’s dementia had now gotten to the point where he didn’t always remember my grandmother had passed away. Rory would feel uncomfortable and probably say how bad she felt for me, and I didn’t want her pity. In fact, I was sick of everybody looking at me with those sad oh-you-poor-thing eyes. I had enough of that at the funeral. Instead, I said it was difficult for him.

“It’s hard because we always spent the holidays with her,” I said.

“Yeah. I’m supposed to go to Frankenmuth with my family for the holiday walk tomorrow,” she said.

“Do you have to go?” I asked. “Maybe we could do something.”

“Much better! Do you want to get together at your house?” she asked.

My aunt made a big deal about not telling people about Grandpa’s dementia, and I didn’t want Rory to come over and have it come out she already knew. Plus, the family room still smelled a little bit like urine from yesterday’s accident.

“I kinda want to get out of my house because my uncle’s driving me crazy,” I said, which wasn’t a lie.

“Well, maybe you could come with us to Frankenmuth. They have all the holiday stuff up there, and I’ll go nuts if I’m left alone with my family for another minute.” She went to ask her mom if I could come.

“Yup, it’s fine. We’ll pick you up at seven tomorrow,” she said.

I went downstairs to tell my mom, and my aunt said we were supposed to go shopping tomorrow.

“I already told Rory I would go with her,” I said.

“Maybe you should have asked first,” my uncle said as he scrubbed the carving knife. I wondered if he wanted to use it on me.

Caroline sighed. “We don’t come to town that often, but if you’d rather go out with your friend…”

“We won’t be out long. Rory’s been a good friend to me, and she’s going through some family stuff right now,” I said. No need to elaborate on the fact her family’s problem was an overcooked turkey.

Mom said I could go, and I offered to help with the dishes. Unfortunately, I had forgotten we used the good plates, which meant they had to be dried by hand. At least I didn’t have to wash the gravy boat or the plate the turkey was on because grease made my stomach roll. When I was in the fifth grade I threw up after my mom left a pan of pot roast grease out on the counter.

We went into the family room to watch football after the dishes were done. Normally after the game, we watched It’s a Wonderful Life, but the disc was at my grandparents’ house. Instead, we watched some old Christmas film set in an orphanage with a couple of priests who needed to raise money or else the little orphans would end up homeless. The whole thing was so depressing, watching the tiny children complaining about being hungry. The movie was supposed to inspire people to focus on giving rather than receiving during the holidays, but I honestly didn’t know why everybody raved about this movie, which was basically just close-ups of small children crying over being cold and hungry. I bet this movie was why so many people killed themselves over the holidays. Well, this movie and having to spend so much time with their families. I was starting to feel a little suicidal myself when the telephone rang.

“Hey, you picked up. How was your Thanksgiving?” Brendon asked.

Seriously? You blow off my grandma’s funeral after saying you’ll be there and that’s your opener? “Depressing. How was yours?”

“Okay. My grandparents asked about you,” he said. “Then my cousin ate too much and puked at the table.”

“Charming.”

“Every year he and his brother try to outdo each other, and this year he spewed all over,” he said. “So anyway, how are you holding up?”

“Still trying to get used to everything.”

“Yeah, I’ll bet. Oh, I gotta go. My dad’s serving dinner to the homeless downtown, and he wants Jayson and me to go. Talk to you later.”

I wondered if I should have said something to him about feeling hurt he didn’t text me to say he wasn’t coming at the very least. But I didn’t have it in me to get into an argument. Things weren’t perfect, but at least he had come to the funeral home and was there for me when I was losing it.