by B S Steele
“And that’s it, not too complicated,” she said bluntly.
I made myself concentrate on the top of the container, so I wouldn’t forever imprint the floating fetus in my memory.
“Hey Anna, grab some of that thread off the spool on the wall, and a needle too.” Drew said. The room smelled of chemicals, but it wasn’t as cold as I had imagined it would be. I put on a gown and gloves, took a deep breath, and went to help Drew.
“Okay, first we always wash them down with a chemical that kills viruses and bacteria. Then we can start massaging her hands to loosen up the rigor mortis.”
I took one of her hands in mine. It was fleshy and stiff and didn’t feel real. Her chipped blue nail polish made me wonder how many days ago she’d sat and painted them.
“We also have a pretty dirty job to do with this one. As you can see, she was an organ donor. This is kind of rare to see here, so it’s pretty cool that you get to help with this one right off the bat,” he said, smiling to me through his surgical mask.
I crinkled my eyes. I still wasn’t super comfortable with smiling over a dead body.
“So, what we must do,” he continued, is literally squeeze out the fecal matter from her intestines.”
His eyes kept searching my face, looking for signs that I might pass out or throw up, but I just listened quietly.
“We have to use a special preservative in this case, because of the internal area being exposed. Plus, she has a long journey home, and we want her to get there looking as natural as possible.”
I nodded, looking at her pale face. Someone had already drained all her fluids out into the toilet connected to the table. I was glad for that, because something about the blood made it worse. Her face was swollen, and she was completely naked. I felt embarrassed for her, but our funeral home was very big on ethics. We never left anyone naked when it wasn’t necessary.
As he squeezed intestines and explained the tools we would be using, I noticed the arteries where her heart had been.
“Her heart was larger than I thought it would have been,” I said.
“Yeah, and look, there is her uterus and ovaries,” he said, pointing to a bubblegum colored sphere about the size of a softball, and two small grayish lumps nestled near it.
“Hard to believe she just had a baby.”
I nodded my head. “Yeah, and I had no idea that a woman doesn’t have to be conscious to give birth.”
He nodded, both of us taking a few seconds of silence.
“I’d like to wash her hair when the time comes, if that’s ok,” I said.
“Yeah, for sure!” he said brightly. “Now go ahead and help me massage the fluids into her skin. When we come to the private areas, always use the back of your hand. It’s more professional,” he said, chuckling awkwardly.
The manager came over, checking our work, making suggestions to Drew, and then said,
“Okay, show Anna how to close her up. That’s going to be a lot of sutures.” I swallowed hard. I had never pierced flesh except my own body parts as a rebellious teenager. Drew looked at me steadily.
“We use a baseball stitch. Don’t worry, it’s fairly easy, and you don’t need to freak out, you aren’t going to hurt her.”
I cringed a little as I sunk the needle in one side of her skin. The heart harvesters had wasted no time slicing her from navel to neck, and the body cavity reminded me of a gutted deer. As I made crude stitches, I let my mind go, thinking about her family who was waiting to see their little girl one last time.
It took us over an hour to finish the sutures, and Amanda looked very critical of our finished design, but I felt proud of myself, patting her cold hand as we did a final wash.
“Great job Anna, and don’t mind Amanda, she’s a bitch,” he said. “There are blow dryers in the cabinet, and you know where the sheets are. I’m going to clean the equipment while you finish up.”
I took off my mask and smiled my first genuine smile in the embalming room.
The business of death isn’t as scary as one might think. I preferred to think of it like a wedding for saying goodbye. We planned the music, offered food and drinks, and played tribute videos. Mostly I worked reception, but some nights I was on call. That meant in the middle of the night, I might be asked to go help pick up a body. One night, Drew and I were called to a client’s home.
“It’s my turn! Me! I’ve done this for him for too long!”
We stood there, watching the old woman like two stone statues, clad in black suits.
“No, I don’t want a funeral. And what Air Force wife doesn’t know her husband’s social security number?!” she screamed.
I stole a look at Drew. We were trying to remain as professional as possible, but we’d already lost our composure while wheeling poor Mr. Cotton into the funeral home van. He was over six-foot-tall, and we’d nearly dropped the gurney as he came down with all his weight on the rickety wheels. I’d caught a glimpse of Mrs. Cotton searching behind her fireplace screen for a well-hidden bottle of whiskey.
“Did you get him outta there?” She asked us, her eyes bleary and red. “I don’t want to sleep with him in there like that,” she said, her eyes softening for the first time.
“Yes, Mrs. Cotton,” Drew said soothingly. “Your husband is in good hands. I just need you to sign this paperwork, so we can take him back with us.”
She nodded and signed the paper numbly. She could have just signed away her life savings, and not known it. I wanted to hug her, but it wasn’t appropriate, so I just hung back, waiting for Drew’s cue.
“Would you like us to call anyone for you? Or is there anything specific we need to know?” he asked.
“No, no, no.” She said, looking exhausted. “I’ve just been doing this so long, you know?”
She looked as helpless as a small child.
“I understand. Just come down tomorrow when you are ready, so we can finalize plans,” he replied softly.
When we were finally outside, I let out a small giggle, which sent Drew into peals of laughter. I was so glad I wasn’t the only borderline Tourette’s sufferer. I laugh when I get anxious, and obviously so did Drew. Morbid humor was supposed to help us get through our job. Even still, Mrs. Cotton’s weathered face will always remain with me, and three days later, she did have a funeral for her husband, with full military honors to boot.
Chapter 37: Keep Climbing
For the first time in a long time, I started to relax. I was confident with my new job and making decent money for the first time in years. I would be able to leave David when the time came. I was looking into Mortuary School, and planning how I could make things work, if it came to that.
David was struggling with his Military career, and we’d been officially notified that he might lose his job if he didn’t straighten up. Things were crumbling around me, and he was more distant than ever. Summer was coming, and I was starting to feel the changes in my bones.
My relationship with David was dying, but something in me was awake. Something new was forming, but I wasn’t quite sure what it was. One beautiful afternoon, I got a call that my High school best friend, had died. She and my friend Adrian had been living together in an apartment after leaving college to have their babies. She and I hadn’t spoken much since graduation, but our bond remained. We’d e-mailed each other just a few months before, talking about her coming to see me after her baby was born.
The baby had been a beautiful, with silky dark skin, and a head full of shiny curls. My friend had loved being a mother more than I’d ever seen her love anything. The first person I called was my Aunt Jesse, who’d put up with our antics all through my Senior year of High school.
“Aunt Jesse?” I said into the receiver of my phone. “It’s Anna,” I said, choking up.
“What is it?! What’s happened?” My Aunt exclaimed, hearing the grief in my voice.
“Michelle is dead,” I said, letting the tears flow. “She-she is gone. . . it was a fire.
They foun
d she and Adrian, and Michell’s baby didn’t make it either.”
“Oh my God,” My Aunt said, her voice filled with shock. “I can’t believe it. . . I just saw her not that long ago. Can you make it home?”
“I’m making plans to come for the funerals,” I said tearfully. “I have to be there if I can. I gotta see her. I don’t know what happened, or who will take care of her funeral. Her grandma died a while back, and I don’t think her mother has been around since she was a kid.”
“I’ll find out for you. You just make arrangements to get here, okay?” She said softly. “It’s going to be okay.”
“Thank you,” I said, pausing to steady my voice. “And Aunt Jesse?”
“Yes?” She replied. “I love you.”
“I love you, too, Anna.”
I hung up the phone, my eyes swollen and red, the memories of Michelle and I rose up like a 3D film in my mind: Her doubled over laughing, her hazel eye sparkling against her brown skin and curly brown hair. Us flying down the stairs after we thought we’d encountered a ghost, screeching and laughing at ourselves.
I smiled, thinking about the times we’d nearly gotten caught smoking weed by Aunt Jesse, stuffing our home-made bong under the covers, giggling and telling each other to shut the fuck up before we got caught. She’d steal my belly rings to impress the boy she liked, and then get mad when I’d catch her wearing them, acting like I was the bad guy.
We’d always make up, ending up writing songs together, and eating entire boxes of Reese’s peanut butter cereal while watching the movie “Jaw Breaker” over and over.
Once we even drank vodka out of mountain dew bottles and went to her youth group half inebriated. With Michelle, nothing mattered but the moment. She’d been a terrible influence on me, but a wonderful friend. The fights we’d had, the tears, the silly notes she passed me in school. The doll we’d made, coloring it half white for me, and half brown for her.
I was going to miss her, and Adrian too. Adrian used to make purses for all the girls in our circle, with blobs of colored glue spelling out “HOLLER,” on them. She was truly unique and could make any of us laugh. They both were probably the single worst influences on me, but I’d grown to love them, and the crazy stunts we pulled together.
At the funeral, I sat down next to the group of girls I’d known High school, many of them were all grown up with kids of their own. We’d mostly hated each other in school, tolerating each other’s presence out of sheer lack of numbers to choose from, but on that day, we remembered all the memories, and we all became more precious to each other in those few short moments.
Being home was like a breath of fresh air, despite the circumstances. After Michelle’s funeral, I traveled the four hours north to visit my Grandma and my parents. David and I had decided to start dating other people, and I’d been seeing a few different people, none of whom I was making a connection with.
The grief was hitting me hard, and after all the loss I’d experienced, it was like living in a haze, going through the motions to feel something, anything good. A week later, I got an opportunity to fly to New York, and it couldn’t have come at a more perfect time.
Chapter 38: City Lights
“David, I think I’m going to New York to help my Uncle Brian start up a Deli,” I told him one day.
I desperately needed a break from the drama of our relationship, as well as a project to throw myself into. We had been separated a while, and I’d been dating a couple different people, stretching my wings out into the single pool. David was angry and hurt, agreeing we both needed some time apart.
“Fine, it’s probably for the best,” he’d told me.
I was angry, rebellious, and cold. Tired of the depressions, the fighting, and the hopelessness that seemed to fill me with every man I failed to make a connection with.
So, I flew to New York. I felt like a new woman as I boarded the plane. I sat in coach, feeling like nothing could phase me. Not even the very large man that seemed to be spilling over into my seat, or the lady with a screaming baby directly in front of me. Everything was beautiful.
I’d land at JFK in just a few short hours and put all of it behind me for the next few weeks. Michael was safe with his dad, and I needed to figure a future for us that didn’t include living with David. Maybe the Deli would become a success, and I’d be a co-owner of a business before my 30th birthday. The possibilities seemed endless.
When I landed in New York, bags in hand, my Uncle texted me, telling me to take a cab to his address. I’d never in my life taken a cab anywhere. I looked around the dark airport, not wanting to make myself a target for some weirdo by appearing like a newbie. I spotted a shuttle service and walked up to the window, stating the address I needed to go to in a confident sounding voice. I felt better choosing a shuttle over a cab, since there were multiple people in the van, rather than just me and some dude.
The man smiled and told me what the fare would be, and I hopped in, dragging my bags into the seat next to me. The guy seemed normal enough, but everyone thought that about Ted Bundy too. He smiled at me in the rear-view mirror and made small talk. I kept most of the details to myself, anxious to get where I was going.
The traffic was the worst I’d ever seen, and a few times I thought I was going join my Dad at the gates of heaven. Somehow, we weaved in and out faster than I thought possible, and I was the only one who seemed concerned. All I saw was concrete, traffic cones, and hundreds of exits to random parts of the Manhattan area. When I finally arrived at my Uncle’s house, I paused taking in the quiet street, the houses were lit up and looked innocent enough.
My Uncle was waiting for me, standing there in his 90’s jeans and pocketed T-shirt. He hadn’t changed a bit and was still wearing the same pair of bifocals I remembered from a few years ago. He’s gotten a bit more weathered but was as wiry as ever.
“Hey!” He exclaimed, “It’s my little brat!” He smiled at me, holding his arms wide for a hug.
All four of my Uncle’s had been a big part of my life when I was small. I’d missed him more than I’d realized.
“Hey Uncle Brian,” I said a little shyly, but I hugged him tightly, glad to see a familiar face in this winding city.
“After we get you all settled in, we’ll go down to the Nautical Mile, and have a look around,” he said, tipping the shuttle driver as he waved him on. “It’s a really popular strip of floating bars and restaurants, maybe we can find you some New York pizza.”
I smiled, my heart jumping with excitement. I was so ready for this new adventure. I could feel it in my veins. When we got into the house, I was greeted by a chubby white guy, wearing nothing but his boxers and sitting on his couch. He was shouting at his T.V., his pretty brunette wife, and his screeching baby all at the same time.
He was stuffing his face with powdered cheese puffs and got up to hug me. I stiffened and recoiled, not used to men being so comfortable just smooshing me into their man boobs.
“Hey, Anna, I’m Syd, and that’s my wife Shawna, and my baby girl, and that there is my pride and joy, Boomer. You know, the dog. She’s the only one I like,” he said, laughing and patting the head of his very overweight bulldog.
“Hey,” I said shyly, waving at his wife. She came from the kitchen and hugged me, talking very close to my face, and faster than I’d ever heard anyone talk before. I just smiled, reveling in every moment. Their house was complete chaos, and exactly what I needed.
“Okay, guys, let’s not overwhelm my niece,” my Uncle interjected. “She’s a Northerner, you know,” he said, winking at me.
They all laughed and ushered us upstairs, where my Uncle showed me his studio apartment. Which was really a large bedroom, where he had a tiny kitchenette, a window air conditioner, and two beds.
“We share a bathroom with the other housemate, Stacy,” he explained. “I work with Syd in the morning, so you can come with us if you want, but everybody leaves their houses in New York. Nobody stays inside, unless your old or une
mployed,” he laughed.
I felt relieved, at least there was a girl on the other side of the hallway. Maybe she’d be cool.
“Stacy lives alone with her son. He’s 3. Name’s Shannon. . . Dumb name for a boy if you ask me,” he said laughing again. “Hey, grab us some beer out of that fridge and let’s catch up.”
The next morning, I woke up to Syd standing in the doorway, watching me sleep. He was eating again. Peanuts or something, and just standing there watching me.
“Hey,” I said awkwardly, which he took as an invitation to come in and sit directly on my bed. No man other than my husband had woken me up like that in years.
“Hey, Anna. We were just wondering if you was ever gonna wake up. The sun’s been out for like three hours,” he explained, like it was totally obvious. “We made some stuff downstairs to eat, if you want some.”
“Uh, thanks, Syd.” I said, sitting up. “Where’s my Uncle?”
“Oh, Brian? Yeah he’s already at the house.”
“House?” I asked.
“Yeah, duh, the one we are working on for the Arabs,” he said, brushing off the peanut crumbs on his chest onto my bed.
“Don’t worry though, Stacy can take us over there in the truck soon.”
I noticed him looking at my pajamas, which were totally appropriate, but I began to wonder if his wife would appreciate finding him sitting on my bed or not. He seemed to notice I was uncomfortable.
“Oh! Shit, my bad. I should let you get dressed,” he said, scrambling up to his feet. I smiled and raised my eyebrows, waiting for him to shut the door. I guess in New York a girl had to speak up. There didn’t seem to be as many social faux pas here as in the North.
Once he left, I locked the door, and threw my clothes on, balancing my makeup on the tiny sink in the bathroom, rushing to put it on. Syd yelled up the stairwell, telling me if I wanted a ride, I better hop in, as he slammed the front door closed, I could hear someone laying on a horn in the street. Once outside, I nearly fell over a very voluptuous girl, who was sitting on the porch steps, smoking a menthol and changing a small toddler’s diaper in full view of the public.