Walking Across Egypt (5 page)

After the program, Mattie decided it was time to call her sister Pearl, and tell her about falling through the chair. Pearl was two years older than Mattie and had stopped going to Listre Baptist the month the church carpeted the backs of the pews, hung microphones over the choir, and started busing. She said it was all a waste of money, and tacky to boot.

Pearl laughed about the rocking chair, and said it was a wonder Mattie hadn't broke a bone.

They talked for twenty minutes. When Mattie was about to hang up, Pearl asked her if she was still planning to go with her up to the funeral home so they could each pick out a casket. With all the excitement Mattie had forgotten.

"Lord, I forgot. I guess it's really not such a bad idea, but..."

"I'll come on by. I told them we'd be there at four. It'll be good to get it all off your mind."

"I ain't had it on my mind."

"Well, it wouldn't be a bad idea. They're real good about it. Hanna Brown went, and Mr. Crosley, you know, works up there, was real nice. They serve you coffee and everything. Chocolate cake. You can at least see what they got even if you don't pick out one right yet."

"Well... What are you going to wear?"

"I thought I'd dress up."

"Come on by. I'll see what I can find to wear." Mattie decided not to take a bath. Instead she'd apply some fresh underarm deodorant. She used baking soda, with just enough water to make a little paste.

Pearl opened the back screen and came in. She favored Mattie, but was older, shorter, and wider than Mattie. She looked like an old, wise, white-haired Indian chief, solid, shaped like a square with far-apart legs which seemed to start toward each other just above the ankles. She wore a plain print dress, pearls, and held her black pocketbook under her arm. When she walked she swayed far to the right, then far to the left. She wouldn't use a cane. Mattie hoped she'd start using one before she just toppled over on her side one day.

Pearl sat down on the couch, sighed, snapped open her purse, pulled out a small tin of snuff. She opened the tin, pinched some snuff between her fingers, and placed it inside her lower lip. She replaced the tin top, put the tin back in her purse, and fished around in there until she found her clean McCormick dill-seed jar and set it on the couch beside her. She snapped her purse back shut. "Well, show me how you fell through the rocking chair."

Mattie told Pearl all about what happened; she left out "All My Children." Pearl knew she watched it and Mattie knew Pearl knew, but it was not discussed just as Pearl's snuff was not discussed.

In telling the story, Mattie acted out her movements back from the television. Pearl started laughing. Mattie kept telling. Pearl laughed louder. Mattie talked louder and got to laughing herself. They were both laughing—hard. Pearl pulled a Kleenex from her purse.

Mattie told about how she heard the clock strike one, one-thirty, two, two-thirty, and on and on; how she watched all those programs; how she saw the dogcatcher through the closed storm door, standing there on the front porch waiting for her to come. How he came in the back door, washed her dishes directly, and finally sawed her out of her chair.

"I don't think I've heard of such a thing," said Pearl, "since Alfred or some of them tied little Durk's foot to the fence that time."

"I remember that," said Mattie. She laughed. "Poor little Durk. They picked on him all the time."

Pearl capped her dill-seed jar and put it inside her pocketbook. "Well I guess we ought to get started. I told them four. I need to go to the bathroom before we leave." Pearl stood and walked to the bathroom. When she returned, she asked Mattie, "How come your toilet seat so sticky?"

"I don't know unless I..."

"I wiped it off. It was just as sticky as I don't know what."

"Well, I... Lord, I guess I washed it with Listerine."

"Listerine!"

"About a month ago I used Listerine instead of alcohol—got them confused—and so I guess I did it again. I declare."

They laughed.

"Wait'll I tell Alora," said Pearl.

"Don't tell Alora; it'll get to Myrtle and then everybody in the Sunday school will know; then everybody in the church will know. I know they'll all find out about the chair. And I hadn't planned to tell anybody but you."

"Well, let's go. I'll drive," said Pearl. "We'll get up there about ten minutes early. Mr. Crosley'll meet us. He knows we're coming."

"Don't get me tickled."

"I won't. Don't you get me tickled."

"I'm plenty sore," said Mattie as they got into the car.

Mr. Crosley was waiting for them in the funeral home lobby. He spoke softly, with a slight rasp in his voice, "Mrs. Turnage, Mrs. Rigsbee? How are y'all today?"

"Fine."

"Just fine. How are you, Mr. Crosley?"

"Just dandy. Idn't it a nice day out there? That little cool breeze."

"It sure is."

"Yes, it is."

"You-all follow me right on up the stairs here and let's get you a little cup of coffee before we do anything else. Maybe a little piece of chocolate cake."

Mr. Crosley started up the stairs.

"Wait a minute," said Pearl. "Let me look here at the roster, see who's up here. I might know one." She looked at the names. "No..."

"Let me see," said Mattie.

Mr. Crosley waited at the foot of the stairs and then as Pearl and Mattie came along, he started up ahead of them.

Pearl, under her breath, said, "I want a big piece of chocolate cake."

"Me too," Mattie mouthed silently.

Mr. Crosley stopped and turned on the stairs. "You all do drink coffee, don't you?" he asked.

"Oh, yes."

"We got some soft drinks too."

Upstairs, they walked along a carpeted hall and into a small kitchen area with a round table, a sink, a Mr. Coffee, and refrigerator. On the table were two pieces of chocolate cake, two coffee cups, cream, sugar, and two navy blue cloth napkins. "Here we go," said Mr. Crosley, pulling out a chair for Pearl.

As she started to sit, Pearl said, "I'm thinking about getting something in a plaid." She cut her eyes to Mattie.

"Beg your pardon?" said Mr. Crosley, leaning his head forward.

"Pearl!" said Mattie.

"Just kidding." Pearl laughed softly.

"Oh, you want something in a plaid," said Mr. Crosley. "Ah, ha. Well, I'm not so sure we've got anything in stock." He slipped the chair under Pearl and bent over her shoulder, "but I imagine we could order something."

"Let's drink a cup of coffee first," said Mattie.

Mr. Crosley took their cups, stepped over to the coffee maker and poured coffee. "Well, you ladies make yourself at home, and I'll be right back." He set the cups of coffee on the table. "I need to go get our brochure and a few other things which will help me explain exactly how we believe we can help you."

Mattie and Pearl ate cake and sipped coffee.

"This is a right nice little kitchen," said Mattie. "This is cake mix, though—bought."

"What you expect in a funeral home? They stay busy doing other things. You know, I remember coming up here when Carl died."

"Well, I guess this is all good. It keeps Robert and Elaine from having to do it all for me."

"I don't know who would do it for me if I didn't."

"Pearl. There are plenty of people. Me."

"I'm not sure you'd get the color right."

"I probably wouldn't." Mattie took a bite of cake. "Well, you know, I hadn't thought about it but I would like to know what I'd be wearing so I could get a match," said Mattie.

"You ought to decide. I got mine hung in the closet and labeled."

"Labeled? What in the world does it say?"

"'Funeral.'"

"I declare, Pearl. You hadn't ever told me that. What is it?"

"That sort of cream pink suit and a white blouse. I just did it a few weeks ago. I'm thinking about buying another suit just like it so I can wear it every once in a while." She took a bite of cake. "I don't have anybody to take care of all that. I got to thinking about it. Besides, I always say, 'Dying is part of living.' I believe it, too. And I'm going to have my funeral at the Free Will where they've just got plain wood inside."

Mr. Crosley came back in with folders and brochures. "Let me show you ladies what we can do for you. How was that cake?"

"Good," said Mattie. "Real good."

"We got more if you want it." Mr. Crosley smiled, sat down, tapped the ends of the folders on the table. "Okay, here's the basic set-up, if I can just show you here in this brochure. Basically, what we do is provide all services, including any details you want to indicate, at today's cost. That's the plan I recommend. We will be able to guarantee you—if you pay now—the same services at any time in the future with no added costs. As you see here, you can indicate the number of cars you think might be needed for the family and such as that. By the way, I can't remember ever having so much fun as I had with you-all in that car at Miss, ah, who was it?—Miss Hattie's funeral. Your cousin. I just ... you know, it won't in bad taste in the least. It's just that most folks—"

"Well, since she was just a cousin," said Pearl, "it didn't seem quite so sad to us."

"She didn't have nothing but cousins," said Mattie.

"No, I don't think she did," said Pearl.

"That's a fact. She didn't," said Mr. Crosley. "But, anyway. I know I've never had as much fun on the job. Who was that other woman?"

"Alora. Alora Swanson, my neighbor," said Mattie.

"She was just along for the ride," said Pearl.

"Just along for the ride?" said Mr. Crosley. "Oh, me." He laughed. "Just along for the ride. Well, let's get back to our brochure here."

"Let me use your bathroom first," said Pearl, standing.

"Out and to the left, first door on the right; can't miss it."

Mattie knew Pearl would take a fresh dip of snuff to help settle her nerves.

Mr. Crosley poured Mattie more coffee.

When Pearl came back in, she said, "I kinda want to see the caskets," she said. "Could we do that now? Then talk all about the arrangements?"

"Oh yes, oh yes," said Mr. Crosley. "Right this way. Right this way."

Mattie was immediately struck by a light gray casket there against the far wall. "I see the one I want," she said.

Pearl punched her. "Wait 'til you find out about the costs," she whispered. She pointed to one near them with a head-to-foot lid raised. "Look," she said. "There's a convertible."

"Bless my soul," said Mr. Crosley. "I never heard it called that." He laughed. "I need you two up here all the time."

Mr. Crosley's back was to Pearl. She pulled up her dill-seed jar from her pocketbook, spit, and placed the jar back inside her pocketbook: three seconds. The dill-seed jar was wedged in a corner of her pocketbook, uncapped, held upright with five full Kleenex travel packs.

"Let me show you this one first," said Mr. Crosley. "Actually we have three here which are very similar. Of course, we're working our way around to the more expensive models—here, right here behind us, the oak—pure oak."

"They are beautiful," said Mattie. "Look at that finish. How much is that one?"

"This model—the dark one—is a little more than four thousand."

"Gosh," said Mattie. "I'd forgot they were that much."

"That's about what I expected," said Pearl, "for the nicer ones. How heavy is one?" she asked.

"This is on rollers," said Mr. Crosley, touching one of the cheaper models. "Push it if you want to. To get an idea."

Pearl set her pocketbook behind her on the oak casket—at the head, on the wood ledge above the white satin pillow. As she pushed to test the weight of the other casket, Mattie's elbow toppled the pocketbook over onto the pillow. None of them saw it fall.

"That's pretty heavy," said Pearl. "Are they all that heavy? My pallbearers ain't going to be all that sprightly."

"Approximately the same weight. All very sturdily made. Now, as we go around in this direction, the models will get a bit more expensive."

Pearl couldn't remember where she left her purse. She looked around, didn't see it anywhere. Mattie and Mr. Crosley were moving on ahead. She'd been right over ... She stepped toward the oak casket. Lord have mercy. Lord have mercy. The dill seed jar had slid right out onto the pillow and ... Mr. Crosley and Mattie were moving on, Mr. Crosley talking. Pearl quickly picked up her pocketbook and the dill seed jar. Not one bit had gotten on her pocketbook. But that white satin pillow. She looked up—Mattie's and Mr. Crosley's backs were to her.

She turned the pillow over, patted it once and moved on. Whoever used it wouldn't care.

Pearl caught up. Mr. Crosley was talking. "This color is very nice. Oh, by the way, I forgot. I should tell you that we're getting in several models of stainless steels one day next week probably."

"Stainless steel?" said Mattie. She turned around and looked at Pearl. "Did you hear that? Stainless steel. Maybe we should come back."