Where There's a Will

(I for iridescent, irony, and intestate)

Jack looks great in his fancy suit, pinstripes and all. The crisp white shirt, the blood-red tie, the pearl lapel pin iridescent in the flickering candlelight. And his face, so serene. “Jack,” I whisper, reaching out to touch his coat sleeve, the smooth wool sliding beneath my fingers, “you look great.”
Kay yanks my arm back, out of the coffin. “How dare you touch him.”
I’m not surprised by Kay’s anger. Jack and I were married for nine tumultuous years, until I’d had enough and left. Neither Kay, nor his other two sisters, forgave me for that decision. In their eyes, and in an opinion shared by Jack, I abandoned him when he was most vulnerable. I smile sweetly at Kay and go sit next to Damon, Jack’s poker buddy.
“She’s a bitch, you know,” Damon says. He fiddles with his shirt cuffs and seems uncomfortable in his blue suit, pulled tight across his belly. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Damon this dressed up, except for Jack’s and my wedding, when he got so warm standing on the sunny lawn at my parents’ house that he passed out.
I speak softly, so only Damon can hear. “Kay thinks I’m here to grab Jack’s money.”
Damon stops pulling on his cuffs. “What money?”
“That’s the irony of the whole thing - Jack decked out so fancy, the family ready to drop-kick me out the door. He had zilch when I was married to him and he has zilch now.”
“Maybe he socked away some dough nobody knows about.” Damon sounds hopeful, as though he’s bought a lottery ticket with some long-shot numbers.
“No,” I say. “Money wasn’t Jack’s strong point. You should know – all those chits he owed on cards.” He had other assets that made up for the lack of finances, and I savored them, naively hoping that he would change, that I could change him.
Kay is beside me again, her lips compressed in a thin line. “I think you should know that Jack died intestate, and that means everything goes to probate.” She smirks slightly. “Even if he had a will, he didn’t leave you anything. Nothing.”
I try to phrase an appropriate comeback. “It’s not about money,” I start, but Damon jumps in before I can finish. “Bet he didn’t leave you nothing either.” He winks at me. “You were just his sister. Jess was his wife and I was his friend. We have memories of Jack that don’t need a probate judge to tell us they’re ours.”