We can’t figure out a way to escape the funeral reception without calling attention to ourselves, so Gianna, Milena, and I stick around, hovering at the edges of the gathering, watching and listening.
Well, maybe more watching than listening.
We’re kind of tipsy from the wine at this point, and we’ve somehow started a little game of speculating about the lives of random people. I’m not sure what the rules are exactly, but it seems like the person who comes up with the most outrageous things is the winner.
“Oh, oh, what about that one,” Gianna says.
“Which one?”
“The one with the big, golden plus sign around her neck.”
“You mean the pendant with the holy cross?” I ask dryly.
“Yes! That!”
“Oh, she’s addicted to cocaine,” Milena says. “Obviously.”
“Obviously,” I agree.
“Her hu
