It fit more snugly than it had on her mother’s tiny wrist, but Josie was surprised by how similar her hands were to her mother’s, the pale skin and brush of freckles. “I don’t like it,” she said, and held out her hand.

“It looks nice.”

“No.”

“Put that hand back in your pocket and take this.” She held out the other opened bottle of vodka.

“I’m not drinking that.”

“Yes, you are.”

“No way; you drink it.”

“It’s for you,” Natalie said, and pushed it on her.

“I’m already buzzed. I’m not drinking it.”

“Oh, yes, you are.” Natalie tried to force it into her hand, but Josie held her hands away from her body and behind her back.

“I’ll pour it into your mouth,” Natalie said, and tried to grab Josie’s chin. They were laughing and wrestling and trying to keep the bottle from spilling when the bells chimed. Josie pulled away and gripped the chair. She was sure they would make her sit in the front row, and if she sat in the front row, she would glimpse her mother’s closed eyes and red fingernails and freckled arms that looked very much like her own. “I don’t want to go.”

“I know,” Natalie said, and stood up. She recapped the vodka, put it back in her purse, and took Josie’s hand.

“No.”

Natalie held Josie’s hand and looked at her. They said nothing until the bells chimed again, and the funeral director entered.

“Oh,” he said. He wore the same gooey pink tie, and Josie had an overwhelming desire to pull it tighter on his pale little neck. She wondered if he had ever kicked anyone out of the funeral home and what it would take to make him do so.

“The service is beginning,” he said.

“Yeah,” Natalie said. “We were just going.” She pulled Josie to stand. “Just walk,” she whispered.

The air was heavy, and Josie felt like she was wading through the shallow end of a swimming pool, but she focused on Natalie’s hand on her lower back and allowed herself to be led to the chapel. She had to will her feet over the threshold, but when they hit the green carpet, she stopped. “I’m not going any farther.”

“Josie.”

“No.” She spoke too loud, and a couple in the last pew turned around.

“All right, all right. Let me just tell my mom.”

Josie watched Natalie walk to the front pew, watched her aunt and then her father turn around. Even from the back of the room, Josie could see her father’s hurt, and she wished she could send a twin to sit and hold his hand. He whispered something to Natalie, and she nodded and walked back.

“Your dad says he’d like you to stand at the casket with him after the service.”

“No fucking way,” Josie said, and turned around.