Andrea Chiang (they/them) // Contributor
Jordan Richert (he/him) // Illustrator
It was going to happen eventually.
Wow, thanks Captain Obvious.
I was trying to comfort you.
Well, try harder.
Maybe if you at least pretended to care people wouldn’t think you’re an asshole.
About our deceased father or the mourners?
About anything! Jesus—
Did you shed a tear even once during the ceremony?!
This is a funeral, not one of your movies Angelo.
Oh, you think I’m acting right now, is that it?
You are certainly putting on a show.
Just because everyone can’t keep their eyes off of me doesn’t mean I’m doing this for attention!
You showed up 30 minutes late with paparazzi.
I can’t help being famous!
You are wearing a bedazzled white jumpsuit and a cowboy hat.
I just came back from a shoot!
Some decorum for this event would have been appreciated,
but I should have expected less.
Yeah, yeah—
you’re just jealous.
Pfft—of what?
Your temporary fame and fortune?
Hey! At least I can say I worked hard to get to where I am now,
and not because someone handed it to me!
I worked tirelessly for two decades—
My entire life—
To succeed our father’s company.
You slept with the movie producer to get your breakthrough role.
You know what, Dea?
You can take his damn company
and shove it up your uptight corporate asshole.
Running away again?
No surprise there.
And just like dad,
the next time you’ll see me is at your service.
Drop dead.
Why did you even come here?
Well, I heard the food here was to die for.
You had five years to reach out to him—
And he had twenty-three years to be a good dad—
We don’t always get what we want, Dea!
At least we can agree on something.
Oh, boo-hoo!
Ms. Prodigy didn’t get the big-shot CEO position!
Meanwhile, here I am—
Wearing fucking GUCCI and a thousand-dollar hairstyle on the cover of Vogue—
And the man dies before he can see all of this!
Not everything is about you, Angelo.
[sigh]
This is why I can’t stand funerals.
Everyone makes it about themselves—who’s had it worse, who’s crying the most—this was never about dad. This was just your desperate attempt to prove yourself to him one last time. That somehow, beyond the grave, he’s watching you, and he’ll finally realize how wrong he was.
But, guess what?
It’s too late to tell him off or reconcile your relationship with him—
He will never say “I’m proud of you” or “I love you.”
You should have done it when you had the chance, because now it’s too late.
He’s dead.
Nothing can change that.
Fuck…man…
You need to sit down, you’ve had too much to drink.
God, what have I done?
Angelo—
He was right about me.
Angelo…
I’m nothing but a disappointment.
That’s not true.
You said it yourself—
One day, all I’ll be known for is the slut that slept my way to the top.
That’s not what I meant…
Angelo.
I’m… sorry.
…
You were right about one thing;
I am jealous.
You got to live your life on your terms.
Not for someone else’s approval.
I still wish he was proud of me,
but I’ll never be enough for him.
…I understand.
You? Really?
I thought after everything I’ve done, he had to be.
One day he would be.
But even at his deathbed—
After living my life according him—
After staying by his side till the very end—
All he said was:
“I’m sorry.”
Sorry for what?
I…I don’t know.
Seriously?! How can you not know?
Yeah, you’d think I’d know him by now.
All I know is that nothing was ever good enough for him—
Not you, not me—
And definitely not the company’s profit margins.
Except Elizabeth.
Ah, yes. How could I forget his perfect princess.
You think he gave everything to the cat?
Very likely.
…
Probably made her the CEO too.
Ha!
…
He was a shit dad.
He was.
Is it dumb that I still miss him?
No.
I miss him too.
