Don’t Eat the Devilled Eggs by Elizabeth Murphy
Susan draped her damp coat over a folding chair by the unplugged bingo machine. “A couple more hours,” she mumbled, “and it’ll be over.”
The church basement reeked of lemon-scented disinfectant and the sickly sweetness of chrysanthemums. Susan pretended to scan the bulletin board notices—Food bank closed Mondays, Bible School volunteers needed. She scratched her arm, regretted the short sleeves under her Lopi wool cardigan. A year’s worth of her mother’s knitting. “Frumpy,” Wayne had called it.
“Excuse me,” Susan said, weaving through the throng of mourners with their “Sorry for your loss” or “Poor dear.” She sneezed as she walked by a cloud of Mrs. Long’s eau de parfum. On the table in the corner, lay platters of food swathed in plastic cling wrap: sausage rolls, ham glazed with pineapple, macaroni salad, finger sandwiches. Her stomach growled. The sheet cake from his office workers read: Nice knowing you, Wayne (1957–2025), in blue letters with white frosting. Devilled eggs beside it.
“Devilled, indeed,” Wayne’s phantom voice sneered. “Salmonella in the eggs. Lead in the paprika. Bon appétit.”
She stared at the images flickering across the TV screen, a tribute prepared by Wayne’s buddies. Wayne celebrating a strike at the bowling alley. Wayne at the hunting shack, arm draped over Roger’s shoulders. Wayne at church league softball. At their wedding, her lips closed to hide what Wayne said were crooked teeth.
His aunt Carol stood beside her. “Managing okay, love?”
Susan nodded.
Carol held up a plate of devilled eggs dusted in paprika. “The protein will do you good. Lord, I swear you’re lookin’ half starved.”
Susan leaned in close to Carol. “I’ll take two.” She smiled, teeth bared. “One for me. One for Wayne.”
Elizabeth’s second novel, The Weather Diviner, was nominated for the 2026 Dublin Literary Award and longlisted for the 2024 BMO Winterset Award. Her short fiction has appeared in Nixes Mate Review, Reckon Review, Tiny Molecules, and other journals. Originally from Newfoundland, she now lives in Canada’s Ocean Playground, Nova Scotia.
elizabethmurphy.tiiny.co/writer
fictionbyelizabethmurphy.blogspot.com
Photo by Anton Nikolov on Unsplash
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