Same Old Truths (6 page)

He took the hint. “Could you excuse me a second? This may be important.”

Back on hold she went. With the strains of the Muzak version of “Love Will Keep Us Together” in her ear, Kay couldn’t help but smile at the irony. She and Dave were still together…sort of…and it wasn’t because of their love for each other but their love for their daughters.

“…
When those girls start hanging around, talking me down…”

The lyrics suddenly brought back her earlier encounter with the receptionist. Was she imagining things, or had the woman been personally annoyed by her call to Dave? As much as she wanted to deny it, the woman’s displeased demeanor had struck a familiar chord of discomfort.

Oh, my God, Kay
.
Will you please stop mind-fucking yourself?

Dave came back on the line and Kay instantly detected an air of agitation. “Listen, Kay. I’m gonna have to go. I’ll let you know when the bank transaction has been set up.”

“But I haven’t finished giving you the directions to the therapist’s office.”

“I’m sure Cory knows how to get there. Talk to you later.”

“Wait, Dave! The appointment is at 7:00 and you have to take Mariah with you.”

“Will do. Bye.”

“Dave!”

“For christsake, what?”

“You’re going to have to take care of the co-pay. I’ll reimburse you for your half this weekend.

“Fine. Whatever. I gotta go.”

Their roller coaster of a conversation was over. Normally she would have spent time taking apart and analyzing every word…every inflection, every nuance. But she shrugged and decided she couldn’t be bothered.

This was new behavior for Kay and she wasn’t sure if it was coming from her own growing maturity or the artificial kind Ruth had been so gracious to supply. It had been years since she had smoked pot, and she had forgotten its power to mercifully obscure her undesirable shortcomings.

When Ruth first suggested taking advantage of a little cannabisial assistance, Kay couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Seems Ruth’s doctor had prescribed medical marijuana for a long list of maladies plaguing Ruth’s day-to-day existence. Although the prim and proper woman had initially encountered great difficulty coming to grips with using a substance associated with hippies, drop outs and slackers, today Ruth was proud to be “licensed to carry,” and was one of its greatest proponents. She had overcome her great reluctance to even speak about the matter and was now extolling its benefits to anyone who would listen…with the greatest of discretion, of course.

Duh
.
That’s why I’m paranoid.

The receptionist at Dave’s office wasn’t protecting her personal territory. She was just one of those nasty bitches occupying a position she was completely ill-suited for. It was like casting Joan Crawford in a part made for Shirley Temple. She’d never be able to understand employers who hired these sour personalities when they were charged with making the all-important first impression of their company.

Happy she had solved the reason for her troubling twinges of discomfort, she set about to contact her girls to let them know about the plans for the evening. She wasn’t sure if Cory would react with pain or pleasure, but she knew Mariah would be delighted. A quick glance at the clock let her know the girls were home from school.

Mariah answered on the first ring and after the cursory question and answer session about the goings-on at school that day, (Kay: “How was school?” Mariah: “Fine.” Kay: “What did you do?” Mariah: “Nothing.”) she asked to speak to Cory. While she waited for her elder daughter to come to the phone, Kay imagined a conversation where the tables were turned (Mariah: “How was work?” Kay:”Fine.” Mariah: “What did you do?” Kay: “I got stoned.”).

“Hi, Mom. Don’t forget I have therapy at 7:00,” Cory said.

“That’s why I’m calling. I’m working late tonight so Dad’s going to take you. He’ll be picking you and Mariah up around 6:30, so please be ready.”

“Wow. How did that happen?” But before Kay could answer, Mariah interjected, “Oh, God. Please tell me Sandy isn’t coming.”

It had never occurred to ask Dave if he’d be bringing his family along. Kay couldn’t imagine Sandy wanting to sit around with a rambunctious little boy waiting for Cory while she spilled her guts about her nasty step-mother.

“I really don’t think she’ll want to bring Little Dave out at that hour. I’m sure Dad is coming alone, but Mariah will have to go with you guys. Please make sure her homework is done before Dad gets there.”

“Mom, she’s not going to listen to me. Will you tell her so she won’t give me any shit?”

“Cory! Do you have to use that language? It’s so disrespectful.” Kay hated to see Cory taking on the inevitable bad habits that come with growing up.

“Sorry, Mom. It slipped. But, will you please tell her?”

Kay did as her daughter asked and even though Mariah griped, Kay knew spending time with her dad would be the perfect incentive for Mariah to get her schoolwork done. With a few last second maternal instructions for remembering to eat and wearing a sweater, Kay hung up the phone, encouraged this little arrangement with Dave might just work out better than she imagined.

“So, how did everything go? By the look on your face I’m assuming it was a success.” Ruth was wearing her coat, apparently getting ready to leave for the day. Kay thought it was amusing the once, standoff-ish woman was now becoming a regular visitor to her office.

“Let’s just put it this way. I couldn’t have done it without you.” Kay smiled at the woman with a new-found intimacy. “It gave me the leg-up I needed.”

“I’m so glad. We women have to stick together. But I am counting on you to be discreet. I don’t think Ed would approve.“

“Don’t worry. Now that I’ve gotten over the initial hump, I doubt I’ll need your help again…except maybe to talk things over every now and then.”

Ruth smiled back at her new friend. “Don’t forget to lock up after the viewing. The front door can be a little hinkey, so make sure it’s secure before you leave. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Kay wondered if Ruth was going home to get high.

* * *

The Campbell viewing was in full swing. Kay was back in her office trying to finish the paperwork she had intended to complete before the afternoon had so quickly gotten away from her. She could tell by the rising and falling sound levels of muffled crying and low conversation reaching all the way back to her office, they had a full house.

A viewing was a family affair that didn’t require the presence of mortuary staff, other than to refill tissue dispensers, give directions to the restrooms, or on the rare occasion, provide smelling salts to a mourner overcome with grief.

Funeral fainting was more of a dramatic show than a true, grief-induced loss of consciousness. Ed had told her the way you could tell if someone had truly passed out was if their head bounced off the floor when they swooned. In any case, it wasn’t staff’s place to judge the sincerity of the collapse, but to make sure the fallen were helped up off the floor and back to their seat.

The after-hours business line rang and Kay was on phone duty. She walked over to her desk and reached for the receiver, hoping it wasn’t a death call. With Uncle Owen being MIA, Ed would have his hands full transporting two bodies. Nope. Just someone wanting to know what time the Campbell viewing started. “7:00 o’clock,” she replied. “Funeral tomorrow at 10:00 at St. Mary’s,” she added before the caller had a chance to ask the inevitable followup question.

She was heading back to her little typewriter station when out of the corner of her eye she spotted a woman, obviously upset, standing in the middle of the family room. Kay recognized the woman as a member of the Campbell family. The moment the fretting woman saw Kay she beckoned her with a rapid-fire crooking of her finger.

Is the restroom really that hard to find
?

Reluctantly, she responded to the urgent summons. As she got closer to the distressed woman Kay noticed the sounds from the chapel had become quite boisterous…almost as if there was a party going on.

“Thank God. I didn’t think anyone was here,” the woman said, frantically grabbing Kay’s arm. “You have to come see my brother. He looks like he’s starting to smell.”

Kay’s blood ran cold and she stood paralyzed, not sure she had correctly heard the woman.

Oh, God! Please don’t tell me he wasn’t thoroughly embalmed.

Kay managed to keep her panic to herself and with all the professional poise she could muster, she led the woman back to the chapel to investigate the potential disaster.

As she rounded the corner from the hallway, Kay almost knocked over a little girl holding the casket veil above her head, twirling around like Salome dancing for the head of John the Baptist. She scanned the room expecting to see other signs of undignified revelry. The intensified noise she had worried about was nothing more than lively conversation between attendees catching up on each other’s lives since the last family funeral.

She cautiously approached the casket, discreetly sniffing the air; the only detectable smell was flowers. A small group of mourners stood at the casket blocking her view of the body. Even though she was anxious to see what was happening to Mr. Campbell, she respectfully held back, not wanting to intrude on their final moments with their loved one/friend.

That’s funny
.
These guys aren’t gasping in horror or holding their noses.

However, from where she was standing she became aware of several large, ghastly brown smears matting the nap of Mr. Campbell’s blue high pile casket. Unlike the sleek, polished finishes of wood or metal, high pile caskets were finished in what can only be described as sculptured carpeting. The high pile was available in blue or pink and because of its affordable price, it tended to be one of their biggest sellers. Kay had always thought the casket should come with a pair of fuzzy dice hanging from the casket lid.

Kay was certain these unsightly stains hadn’t been there this afternoon when Ruth was setting the lighting. She couldn’t imagine how the casket had become so filthy.

Once the mourners returned to their seats, Kay was able to get a better look. She sighed with relief. Mr. Campbell wasn’t decomposing before everyone’s eyes. Rather, the family, unable to keep from touching him, had removed the casket veil and in the process of lavishing him with affection for the last time, had made a mess of his cosmetic restoration. With his “face” coming off in their hands, it was easy to see why his sister thought he was starting to “smell.” What wasn’t easy to see was why, with the tissue dispenser just two feet away, they’d felt the need to clean their hands on the casket. She made a mental note to tell Ed the stains would have to be removed before tomorrow morning’s funeral service.

After reassuring the sister that her brother wasn’t rotting in full public view, Kay retrieved the casket veil from the dancing girl, re-draped it over the casket and stationed herself nearby, guarding against any more destructive pawing of the body. Fortunately, back under the veil, Mr. Campbell resumed his almost-natural appearance. The transformation, courtesy of theatrical tricks of the trade, made Kay think of the famous Shakespearian quote, “All the world’s a stage, and all the men and women merely players: they have their exits and their entrances…”

Mr. Campbell had been given his cue and he was about to make his exit.

6

Cursed by Good Energy

“I’m ho-ome,” Kay called out, wiggling and jiggling the key, trying to pull it from the stubborn dead bolt lock.

Silence.

Kay let out a grateful sigh. She was anxious to hear how things had gone with the girls and their dad, but was glad for the opportunity to wind down from her long, crazy day. She poured herself a glass of her favorite Pinot Noir and headed for the welcoming caress of her sofa’s poofy cushions.

She was getting home much later than she would have preferred but Ed had returned just as she was locking up. She stayed to give him a hand moving his retrieved deceased from the gurney to the embalming table, debriefing him on the unusual events of the evening. He smiled and shook his head, saying as far as viewings go, Mr. Campbell’s was pretty much par for the course - he had seen much worse. Then, before he’d sent her on her way, they cleaned Mr. Campbell’s face off the casket. When they were finished, the blue high pile looked like new.

Unfortunately, Kay’s welcomed lull didn’t last long. She had just put her feet up on the coffee table when she heard the rising volume of the girls’ voices as they neared the front door. They didn’t bother to use their key, but instead, one of them laid on the doorbell with a heavy finger.

Ding, dong, ding, dong, ding, dong, ding, dong - followed by insistent knocking. Kay jumped, nearly knocking over her glass of wine.

“Ok, ok, I’m coming,” she hollered, hurrying to put a stop to the racket.

She opened the door and Mariah came in with a little skip and exuberant, “Hi, Mom.”

Cory blew right past her mother, looking glum as usual.

“There’re my gorgeous girls,” Kay said. She wanted to find out about the events of their evening but she knew it was better to keep her curiosity in check. Both Mariah and Cory hated being interrogated about their time spent with their dad - something Kay, regrettably, wasn’t able to resist when the separation was new and she was at the peak of her craziness. It took her a while but she eventually learned if she stayed quiet long enough, the girls would volunteer all the information she needed to know.