Come See Me

“If you didn’t come see me while I was alive,” she said, “don’t come see me once I’m dead.” We knew she was trying to shame us into visiting, but we didn’t think she’d hire a bouncer for her funeral.

“Yeah, so when’d you last see her?” His high-pitched voice seemed mismatched with his nearly seven feet, black blazer over a black shirt and pants, and chinstrap beard and shaved head. He looked like he usually worked outside a nightclub, not a small Episcopal church.

“Uh, she came to my graduation. Uh, college graduation.” I cleared my throat.

“So she had to come to you?” He cocked an eyebrow.

“Uh, wait!” I thought fast. “I swung by last year and had lunch with her.”

“Where’d you eat?”

“Her place. Slipped my mind because I was passing through on a long road trip, y’know?”

“Nice try, kid. Next!” My cousin Linda stepped forward.

“What, lunch isn’t good enough?”

“Not when you’re lying.” He fist-bumped Linda and let her through.

“How would you know?”

“You don’t recognize me.”

“Should I?”

“Well, I was living with your grandmother at the time.”

I decided I was better off not thinking about Grandma just then.

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