They entered without asking. Their shoes echoed on the floor I had cleaned with so much effort. No one offered me their condolences. Perhaps Mark hadn’t told them. Or perhaps for them, the death of an old woman wasn’t important enough to ruin a party atmosphere. They immediately scattered throughout the living and dining rooms, admiring the furniture and praising Mark’s success on his recent promotion. I stood in a corner, holding a tray with glasses of cold iced tea that I had prepared beforehand. Mark introduced me quickly, not as his grieving wife, but as the hostess, ready to serve. Some of them nodded politely, but their gazes were empty.
They looked at me briefly before returning to their lively conversations with Mark. Mark seemed to be thoroughly enjoying the moment. He was the center of attention, telling unfunny jokes that were met with exaggerated laughter from his subordinates. Each burst of laughter was like a needle piercing my heart. Their laughter sounded like a grotesque dissonance with my desolate mood. It was like a masquerade ball in the middle of a cemetery. My first duty began. Mark gestured with his eyes for me to serve the drinks quickly. I walked slowly, offering the tray to each guest. My hands trembled from the weight of the tray and from the emotion I was trying to suppress.
One of Mark’s friends, one burly man, took a glass without even looking at me, too busy talking about a new project they were about to launch. The glasses passed quickly from hand to hand. I had to go back and forth to the kitchen to refill the pitcher and bring out appetizers. My legs, already tired from standing for hours at the funeral home, ached even more, but I dared not sit down. Mark was always watching me from the corner of his eye, making sure I didn’t rest for a second. The atmosphere grew even louder when the second group arrived. Among them was a woman who stood out particularly.
Her name was Jessica. She was a colleague Mark often mentioned at home for her achievements, but I could sense something more in the way Mark looked at her. Jessica entered with a very confident air, as if she owned the place. She greeted Mark with familiarity, even touching his arm in a way that was too close while smiling cheerfully. Mark seemed delighted by Jessica’s arrival. His face lit up in a way I hadn’t seen when he looked at me. Jessica examined me from head to toe with a look of dismissive evaluation. There was no kind smile on her lips when she looked at me, only a faint, cunning smirk.
Mark immediately led Jessica and some of his closest friends to the most comfortable spot, the main sofa. He called out my name loudly and ordered me to bring a plate of food for Jessica. He said Jessica was a special guest and should be well taken care of. I swallowed, holding back the bitterness rising in my chest. I brought a plate and filled it with the food I had prepared earlier through tears. The pot roast, the garlic shrimp, and a piece of the loaded baked potato casserole were carefully arranged on the plate. I brought it to Jessica and offered it to her respectfully. Jessica accepted it without a single word of thanks.
