As the live-in manager at her father’s funeral home in Burling Gates, Missouri, Vienna Oaks has succumbed to the mediocrity and abject loneliness of her life. Her days are suspended between the mundane and the misery of her clients’ throttling grief, of changing light bulbs, and encountering strangers as bereft as she. But after orchestrating the funeral for a little boy named Parker prompts a severe panic attack, she finds herself at a personal crossroads in which she i...

The smell is sweet, and when I was younger, I had a hard time not thinking of pickles. Oblong, green. Floating in jars of brine. And that’s what pops up now when I look down and take account of Parker’s five tiny fingers. Little gherkins. It’s a mistake looking at his hands. I throw up a small puddle at my feet as my father walks in, and discontent pulses between us. He leaves and comes back with the mop and bucket and streaks through vomit while Parker watches. “I t...