THE FALLOUT: THE CARTER FAMILY CHRISTMAS SPECIAL: Dec 20th - The Wake
A wake meant for comfort turns into a night of judgment, walkouts, and family fractures that can’t be ignored.
THURSDAY, DECEMBER 19TH - 3:47 PM
Bobby created a new group text. Added everyone. Extended family. Church folk. Cousins he hadn't spoken to in five years. People who showed up to every Carter family event with opinions and casseroles nobody asked for.
He typed: Reminder: The Wake is this Saturday, December 20th. 6 PM. Ferguson Funeral Home on Van Buren. Please be on time.
The responses came fast.
Aunt Gloria: We'll be there baby. Your mama was my best friend. I'm bringing my green bean casserole.
Cousin Trey: RIP Uncle Willis and Aunt Brenda. See yall Saturday.
Sister Pemberton from church: The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away. Blessed be the name of the Lord. I'm bringing rolls.
Aunt Denise: Can't believe they're gone. I just saw Brenda at the grocery store two weeks ago. She looked so happy.
Uncle Marcus: Tell Barbara I said hello. We're bringing potato salad.
Bobby stared at that last message. Uncle Marcus didn't know. Nobody knew about Barbara leaving. Nobody knew about any of it.
More messages rolled in.
Deacon Harris: Pastor Reynolds asked me to help with setup. I'll be there early.
Cousin Shanice: Bringing the twins. They loved Grandma Brenda.
Sister Morrison: I made my famous sweet potato pie. Three of them.
Bobby scrolled through fifty-three messages in twenty minutes. Everybody confirming. Everybody bringing food. Everybody ready to show up and show out.
He typed one more message: Thank you all. Mom and Dad would appreciate it.
Then he turned off his phone.
SATURDAY, DECEMBER 20TH - 5:32 PM
Ferguson Funeral Home looked different than it had nine days ago when they'd tried to make arrangements. The consultation room where they'd screamed at each other was closed. The main viewing room was open, polished, perfect.
Two caskets at the front. Oak. Closed for now. Would open at six.
Flowers everywhere. Arrangements from the church. From Bobby's old job. From neighbors. From people the siblings didn't even recognize.
A long table set up in the back. The food table. Already filling up even though the wake didn't start for another half hour.
Bobby stood in the corner watching people arrive early. Watching them bring their dishes. Watching them whisper to each other when they thought nobody was listening.
Aunt Gloria came through the door with her green bean casserole. Saw Bobby. Rushed over and hugged him so tight he couldn't breathe.
"Oh baby," she said, pulling back to look at his face. "You look terrible. Have you been eating?"
"I'm fine, Aunt Gloria."
"You're not fine. None of y'all are fine." She set her casserole on the table. Looked around. "Where's Barbara?"
"She'll be here later."
"Later? Bobby, your mama just died and your wife is coming later?"
"It's complicated."
"Mm-hmm." Aunt Gloria's eyes narrowed. "That's what people say when they don't want to tell the truth. But I'll let it go. For now."
She walked away to greet someone else. Bobby exhaled.
More people arrived. Uncle Marcus and Aunt Denise. Cousin Trey with his girlfriend. Deacon Harris with his wife. Sister Pemberton. Sister Morrison with her three sweet potato pies.
And the church folk. Oh, the church folk came in waves. Solid Rock Baptist Church represented heavy. Women in black dresses and hats. Men in dark suits. Everybody ready to pay respects and pass judgment in equal measure.
By 5:50, the room was half full and the food table was overflowing.
Bella arrived at 5:55 with Billy. Saw the crowd. Saw Bobby in the corner. Walked over.
"This is a lot of people," she said quietly.
"Mom and Dad knew a lot of people."
Billy tugged on Bella's sleeve. "Mommy, can I have a cookie?"
"Not yet, baby. Wait until after the viewing."
Billy wandered toward the kids' corner where Ferguson Funeral Home had set up coloring books and crayons. Brandon was already there, coloring alone.
Wallace arrived at 5:58 with Julian. The second they walked through the door, the room changed.
It wasn't loud. It wasn't obvious. But Bobby felt it. The shift. The whispers that stopped mid-sentence and started up again lower. The eyes that tracked Wallace and Julian as they walked to the caskets.
Sister Morrison leaned over to Sister Pemberton. Whispered something. Sister Pemberton's eyebrows went up. She whispered back. They both looked at Julian.
Aunt Gloria saw it too. Walked over to Bobby. "That's Wallace's friend?"
"That's Julian."
"Where's Wynona?"
"Not here."
"Bobby."
"I said she's not here, Aunt Gloria. Leave it alone."
Aunt Gloria pursed her lips. "Your mama wouldn't like this."
"Mom's dead. So I guess it doesn't matter what she'd like."
The words came out harsher than Bobby meant them. Aunt Gloria flinched. Walked away without another word.
Wanda arrived at 6:03 with Chloe. If Wallace and Julian caused whispers, Wanda and Chloe caused a goddamn symphony.
Sister Pemberton actually gasped. Put her hand over her chest like she'd seen something unholy.
Sister Morrison whispered to Deacon Harris. Deacon Harris whispered to his wife. His wife whispered to Sister Clark. Sister Clark looked at Wanda and Chloe like they'd brought sin itself into the funeral home.
Uncle Marcus walked up to Bobby. "Who's that with Wanda?"
"A friend."
"A friend?"
"Yeah."
"Where's William?"
"Not here."
"Bobby, what the hell is going on with this family?"
Bobby turned to look at his uncle. "You really want to know?"
Uncle Marcus stared at him. Then shook his head. "No. I don't think I do."
He walked away.
6:15 PM
The caskets were open now. People lined up to view the bodies. To say goodbye. To cry and hug each other and murmur about how peaceful Brenda and Willis looked.
They didn't look peaceful. They looked dead. But nobody said that part out loud.
Bobby stood near the caskets accepting condolences. Shaking hands. Hugging people who smelled like perfume and grief.
"Your mama was a good woman."
"Your daddy helped me fix my car once. Never forgot that."
"They're with Jesus now."
"God don't make mistakes."
On and on. Bobby nodded. Said thank you. Felt nothing.
Bella stood on the other side. Accepting her own round of condolences. Trying not to cry in front of people who would gossip about it later.
Wallace and Julian stayed near the back. Julian tried to approach the caskets once. Sister Morrison blocked his path. Didn't say anything. Just stood there. Stared. Until Julian backed up.
Wallace saw it. His jaw tightened. But he didn't say anything. Not here. Not now.
Wanda and Chloe were having their own problems. William showed up at 6:20. Alone. Saw Wanda and Chloe standing together near the food table. His face went red.
He walked over. Stood directly in front of them.
"Wanda."
"William. What are you doing here?"
"Paying my respects. Brenda and Willis were good people. Better than you deserve."
Chloe stepped forward. "You need to walk away."
"I'm not talking to you."
"I don't care. Walk away."
Cousin Trey appeared out of nowhere. Put his hand on William's shoulder. "Hey man. Not here. Not tonight."
William shook him off. "Get your hand off me."
"William." Bobby's voice cut across the room. He was walking over now. Fast. "Outside. Now."
"I'm not going anywhere."
"Yes you are." Bobby grabbed William's arm. Pulled him toward the door. "You're going outside or you're leaving. Pick one."
William jerked his arm free. Looked at Wanda. "This is what you chose? Her? Over me? Over our marriage?"
"We don't have a marriage anymore, William."
"Because of her!"
"Because of US!" Wanda's voice cracked. "Because we were unhappy. Because I was lying to myself and to you. Because I couldn't keep pretending."
The room went silent. Every single person stopped talking. Stopped moving. Just stared.
Sister Pemberton whispered to Sister Morrison: "Did she just say what I think she said?"
Sister Morrison nodded. "Mm-hmm. She sure did."
Pastor Reynolds appeared. Tall. Calm. Commanding. "William. Wanda. This is not the time or place. Your parents deserve better."
William's eyes filled with tears. "They deserved a better daughter."
He walked out.
The silence stretched. Uncomfortable. Heavy.
Then Aunt Gloria clapped her hands once. Loud. "Alright. Let's eat. Brenda would want us to eat."
People moved. Slowly at first. Then faster. Toward the food table. Away from the tension.
Bobby walked back to his corner. Bella joined him.
"That was a disaster," she whispered.
"It's going to get worse."
"How?"
Bobby nodded toward the food table where Barbara had just arrived. Late. Without Brandon.
"Where's your son?" Bella asked.
"Barbara's mother has him. She didn't think he should be here for this."
"For what? The viewing or the drama?"
"Both."
7:03 PM
The food was a tragedy.
Aunt Gloria's green bean casserole was good. Sister Morrison's sweet potato pies were decent. Everything else? A disaster.
Uncle Marcus's potato salad had raisins in it. RAISINS. Wanda took one bite and spit it into a napkin.
Sister Pemberton's rolls were hard as rocks. Cousin Shanice's macaroni and cheese was dry and flavorless. No butter. No soul. Just sadness on a plate.
And then there was the white people's contributions.
Julian had brought a veggie tray. Cucumbers and baby carrots with ranch dip. Wallace saw it on the table and wanted to die.
Chloe brought bruschetta. Fancy little toasted bread pieces with tomatoes and basil. Nobody touched it.
Wynona had dropped off a casserole before the wake started. Tuna noodle. With crushed potato chips on top. It sat in the corner of the table like a monument to bad decisions.
Bobby stared at the food spread. Looked at Bella. "Mom would be pissed."
"Mom would throw all of this away and start over."
They almost laughed. Almost.
Sister Morrison walked up to the table. Looked at the veggie tray. Looked at the bruschetta. Looked at Bobby and Bella.
"This is what happens when you let outsiders bring food to a Black funeral," she said. Loud enough for everyone to hear.
Julian heard it. His face went red. Wallace put his hand on Julian's back. "Ignore her."
"How am I supposed to ignore that?"
"Because if you respond, it gets worse. Trust me."
Sister Morrison wasn't done. She picked up a roll from Sister Pemberton's basket. Tried to bite it. Couldn't. Set it back down.
"Lord have mercy," she said. "Brenda would come back from the dead just to fix this table herself."
People laughed. Nervous laughter. But laughter.
Aunt Gloria walked over with a bottle of wine. Poured herself a cup. "Somebody spike this punch?"
"Not yet," Deacon Harris said. "But we should."
"We absolutely should."
By 7:30, the alcohol was flowing. Wine. Whiskey someone smuggled in. Beer in red solo cups because Ferguson Funeral Home technically didn't allow alcohol but nobody was checking.
Bobby was on his third drink. Maybe fourth. He'd lost count.
Bella was nursing one glass of wine. Trying to keep it together.
Wallace wasn't drinking. Julian had one beer. Nursing it slowly. Watching everyone watch them.
Wanda was two drinks in. Chloe wasn't drinking at all. Playing defense.
7:52 PM
The drinking loosened tongues.
Uncle Marcus cornered Bobby by the caskets. "So what really happened at Thanksgiving?"
"What do you mean?"
"I mean everybody's acting weird. Wynona's not here. William just walked out. Wallace is here with... that guy. Wanda's with... that woman. And Barbara showed up late without Brandon. What happened?"
Bobby took another sip. "Life happened."
"That's not an answer."
"It's the only answer I've got."
Uncle Marcus shook his head. "Your parents spent thirty years holding this family together. And in three weeks, y'all managed to blow it apart."
"They're dead, Uncle Marcus. So I guess it didn't matter what they did."
"Don't talk like that."
"Why not? It's true. They died trying to fix what we broke. And now they're gone and we're still broken. So what was the point?"
Uncle Marcus walked away without responding.
Across the room, Sister Pemberton was talking to Sister Clark. Both of them looking at Wallace and Julian.
"It's a shame," Sister Pemberton said. "Wallace was such a good boy. Married to that nice girl Wynona. Had a good job. And now look at him. Bringing that... lifestyle into his parents' wake."
"Mm-hmm," Sister Clark agreed. "Brenda and Willis would be heartbroken."
Julian heard them. He'd been hearing them all night. The whispers. The stares. The judgment.
He turned to Wallace. "I need to leave."
"No."
"Wallace, they're talking about us. About me. I don't belong here."
"You belong here because I want you here."
"That's not enough."
"It is for me."
Julian looked at Wallace. Saw the desperation in his eyes. "Okay. But if this gets worse, I'm leaving."
"It won't get worse."
It got worse.
Sister Morrison walked past them. Looked directly at Julian. Said loud enough for everyone to hear: "Some people don't know when they're not welcome."
Wallace spun around. "Excuse me?"
"You heard me."
"Say it again."
"Wallace." Julian grabbed his arm. "Don't."
"No. She wants to say something, let her say it."
Sister Morrison smiled. Cold. Mean. "Your mama didn't raise you to bring shame to this family. But here you are. Shame standing right next to you holding your hand."
Wallace's fist clenched. Julian saw it. Pulled him back.
"We're leaving," Julian said.
"No we're not."
"Yes we are. Now."
They walked out. The door closed behind them. The room erupted in whispers.
Bobby watched them go. Finished his drink. Poured another.
8:34 PM
Wanda and Chloe were next.
Aunt Denise cornered Wanda near the bathroom. "Baby, I need to ask you something."
"What?"
"Is it true? You and William are getting divorced?"
"Yes."
"Because of her?" Aunt Denise nodded toward Chloe.
"Because of me. Because I'm gay. Because I was living a lie."
Aunt Denise's face fell. "Oh baby. No."
"No what?"
"You're not gay. You're confused. You're grieving. But you're not gay."
Wanda laughed. Bitter. Sharp. "I'm not confused, Aunt Denise. I've known since I was fifteen."
"But you married William. You had a life with him."
"I had a lie with him."
"Don't say that. Don't throw away your marriage for... for this phase."
"It's not a phase."
"It is. And when you come out of it, William will be gone. Your family will be gone. And you'll be alone with this... this person who convinced you to throw everything away."
Chloe stepped forward. "I didn't convince her of anything."
"I'm not talking to you."
"Well I'm talking to you. Wanda isn't confused. She isn't going through a phase. She's living her truth. And if you can't handle that, that's your problem. Not hers."
Aunt Denise's mouth fell open. "How dare you."
"How dare I what? Tell you the truth? Defend the woman I love? Which part bothers you more?"
"You don't love her. You just want to destroy her life."
Wanda grabbed Chloe's hand. "We're done here."
"Wanda, wait."
"No. I'm done explaining myself. I'm done defending who I am. I'm done listening to people who claim to love me but can't accept me."
They walked out.
Aunt Denise watched them go. Shook her head. Walked back to the food table and poured herself more wine.
9:11 PM
By nine, the wake was half empty. People had paid their respects. Eaten the terrible food. Whispered their gossip. Now they were leaving.
Bobby stood alone in front of his parents' caskets. Drunk. Swaying slightly.
Bella walked over. "You okay?"
"No."
"Yeah. Me neither."
They stood in silence. Staring at their parents' faces.
"They look so small," Bella whispered.
"Yeah."
"I can't believe they're gone."
"Me neither."
More silence.
"Tomorrow's the funeral," Bella said.
"I know."
"We have to get through it."
"I don't think I can."
"You have to. We all have to."
Bobby turned to look at her. "Why?"
"Because they deserve it. Because they raised us better than this. Because we owe them that much."
Bobby laughed. No humor in it. "We owe them a lot more than a funeral, Bella. We owe them thirty years of love we didn't give them back. We owe them phone calls we didn't answer. We owe them apologies we never said. We owe them a family that didn't fall apart the second things got hard. A funeral isn't going to fix any of that."
Bella's eyes filled with tears. "I know."
"Then why are we doing this?"
"Because it's all we have left."
Bobby nodded. Turned back to the caskets. "Goodnight, Mom. Goodnight, Dad. I'm sorry I wasn't better. I'm sorry we weren't better."
He walked away.
Bella stayed for another minute. Looking at her mother's face. Her father's face.
"I love you," she whispered. "I'm so sorry I didn't say it more."
Then she left too.
By 9:30, the funeral home was empty except for the night staff cleaning up. The food table was a disaster. Half-eaten plates. Spilled drinks. Sister Morrison's sweet potato pies mostly gone. Everything else barely touched.
The caskets were closed again. Flowers still surrounding them. Two bodies. Two lives. Thirty years of marriage. Four children. Two grandchildren.
All of it leading to this. A wake where half the family walked out. Where church folk passed judgment. Where the food was terrible and the alcohol flowed and nobody knew how to grieve without making it worse.
Tomorrow would be the funeral.
Tomorrow they'd try again.
Tomorrow they'd pretend they had it together.
But tonight? Tonight they were exactly what they'd been since Thanksgiving.
Broken.
END PART 9: THE WAKE
