Exit Laughing by Victoria Zackheim

wake,” she says. “God! Were you at Fergal’s wake, Molly?”
    “I was. And so would you have been, if ye knew Alice Duffy, like ye said.”
    I serve the trifle, a scoop each, and I’m careful to include a bit of everything.
    “Wait now, wait now,” says Oona, tapping her head. “It’s all coming back to me.”
    “Put out your cigarette,” says Molly. “You’re shaking ash into your trifle.”
    “Fergal drowned in Lough Ree,” says Oona, “and his body swelled like a balloon.”
    “He drowned, did he?” asks Molly.
    Oona looks at her steadily. “Yes. He did.”
    So Molly tells us to imagine Alice Duffy’s cottage, which was built of limestone, and had three rooms, a thatched roof, and a small row of outhouses.
    The sisters didn’t want to look inside the casket, but Mammy said it was expected. It was called
viewing
. Fergal was on the kitchen table, and Molly wanted to know why there were pennies on his eyes, so Mammy explained it was to keep them closed.
    Sure,
he
won’t be waking up any time soon, whispered Molly.
    Alice asked them if they’d do her a favor and start knocking on doors to beg for the loan of a few candlesticks.
    When evening came, people swarmed Alice’s kitchen and clogged every corner.
    Ohhh, Fergal, sighed Old Mary Godfrey. Why did ye have to drown? And then she howled like a wolf, and Mammy said that was called
keening
.
    He was a fine man! cried Old Mary Godfrey. A lovely man! A holy man!
    Was he, my arse, said Ethna Fitton.
    He must have taken the boat too far out, whispered Kathleen Doody. The middle of Lough Ree is treacherous.
    The boat washed up only this morning, said Ethna Fitton, and there were three empty bottles of
potheen
inside.
    Dear Mother of God, no! said Kathleen Doody. The ould rascal!
    Still, said Ethna Fitton, it might be the best way to go, drunk as the
divil
himself.
    And all this time, Alice remained in her corner, and Mammy was urging her to take a bite of something, come on now, do, or maybe a little drop of brandy, to give her strength. And Father Hegarty was saying, Now, ’tis well that Fergal went first, Alice. He’ll intercede for you in the next world, so he will. And he averted his eyes, knowing full well there’d be no ascending any golden staircase for the likes of Fergal, may God have mercy on his wretched soul.
    Kathleen Doody and Old Mary Godfrey sliced Alice’s salt ham and handed it around liberally, along with the last of her bread. And they followed up with slices of caraway seed cake, spread with butter and vegetable marrow jam.
    “God, Molly, ye’ere great at remembering all those names,” says Oona. “I’ll give ye that.” She leans forward. “What’s the betting Fergal had some fancy woman!”
    “Fergal wasn’t always fishing at the lake,” says Molly. “He cast his rod in a few other places, too.”
    And so we return to Alice Duffy’s house.
    It was midnight before the Mullan boys trooped in. They expressed their sympathies and shook their heads. Such a tragic, tragic occurrence, Alice, where will we play? Over here,perhaps, away from the door? Instruments were carried over shoulders, or under arms, or in their pockets: the bodhrán, the fiddle, and a tin whistle.
    And following close behind, in stepped none other than Fanny Lynch, with her scarlet lips and penciled eyebrows. She had bosoms the size of two barrels and was known for her loose morals and paid favors. And she looked in at Fergal lying there with his clasped hands, and his copper pennies, and she ranted and raved, and sobbed and spluttered, and Father Hegarty was pulling at her saying, Go home now, Fanny Lynch! Go home to yer three children that are left all alone.
    Alice Duffy thumped across the kitchen and lunged at Fanny Lynch, and they pinched, and they punched, and they spat, and they squawked, and Gyles Pelly yelled, Stop! For the love of God, stop! Sure, Fergal planned on leaving ye both, anyway!
    And he showed them papers he’d found in Fergal’s