by K. L. Hiers
They traded a few more texts about how their days went, and Tom found it much easier to talk with Cypress through texting. He opened up a little about Mrs. Winslow, how difficult her restoration was, and he shared a picture of his new dog.
That is not a dog. That is a fuzzy rat. A fuzzy rat that might eat you.
Do not talk about Mister Doodles like that!
Tom laughed to himself as he got ready for bed. He took Mister Doodles out for a quick walk to do her business and came back inside to take care of his own.
When he came out of the bathroom, he was pleasantly surprised to find Mister Doodles waiting for him. He crawled under the covers, made sure his alarm was set and found himself eagerly waiting for Cypress’s next reply.
I’ll remember you said that, lol. Hey, I’ve really enjoyed chatting, but I gotta get up early.
Me, too. It was fun. Good night, sweet dreams!
Sleep sweetly, beautiful
“Beautiful,” Tom whispered out loud, his cheeks burning in the darkness of his bedroom. He couldn’t remember the last time anyone had called him beautiful, and he rolled over for sleep with a smile on his face and his stomach lightly fluttering.
For a guy who was technically blackmailing him into having sex with him, Cypress was very sweet.
Tom lifted his head when his phone went off again, squinting to read another message from Cypress:
And if you touch yourself later? Think of me… because I’ll definitely be thinking about you.
Oh, now that was unexpected and insanely hot.
Tom made a small sound, a grunt, quickly texting back:
Yes, sir.
He was too tired to even work out a quick one, and the new presence of Mister Doodles made it a little weird. Tomorrow morning, Tom promised himself, his eyes closing for sleep. In the shower for sure, maybe even in the bathroom at work. The very idea of jerking off at the funeral home made him grin, and he’d never felt so daring before.
Mister Doodles was making herself right at home, snuggling up to Tom’s chest and whining softly.
Tom petted her until she quieted down, yawning as he started to drift off. For better or worse, today had been pretty damn fantastic.
Mister Doodles snuggled higher and higher until she could press her cold nose right up against Tom’s cheek. Tom felt her tiny little teeth digging in, very gently, as if testing whether or not she could take a nibble.
“Still alive,” Tom mumbled, sleepily reaching up to pry her away.
Mister Doodles huffed in what Tom could assume was intense disappointment.
“Sorry. Try again in the morning, Mister Doodles.”
The days leading up to Saturday were busy, and time passed by quickly.
Mister Doodles seemed to accept Tom was planning to stay alive for the foreseeable future and didn’t try to chew on him again. She still turned her nose up at the kibble, though.
Mrs. Hun did turn out to be an embalming, and it was a disaster. The family was delaying services while they waited for relatives from out of the country to arrive, and of course, Tom had to raise almost every artery in her tiny body to ensure she got a good distribution of fluid.
What normally took two hours ended up taking five. He was proud of how she looked when he was finally done but coming home late earned him a nice big poop on the carpet from Mister Doodles.
Mr. Delaney was buried promptly as per Jewish tradition, Mr. Hewitt’s burial was the very next day, and Mrs. Winslow’s visitation was packed the night after that. Tom had expected Mr. Dresser’s services to be crowded considering how young he was, but it only appeared to be a small group of immediate family.
Tom tried not to let it bother him.
He stayed focused on work and looked forward to his date with Cypress. Tom only got to see him in passing when he was dropping off flowers and being able to text was sporadic. There was one night where Tom didn’t hear anything back from him until the next morning.
Cypress apologized for the lack of replies, saying he was busy working late.
Tom had never thought that a florist would keep such hectic hours, but it made the anticipation leading up to their date even more delicious.
He did as Cypress had asked, thinking only of their intimate time together whenever he touched himself. It was no longer a quick drill in the shower to get out of the way but something he enjoyed and planned for. He started bringing lube with him to press his fingers inside of himself while he imagined Cypress’s hands smacking his ass and came so hard his vision went white.
It didn’t compare to having Cypress in the flesh, but it was better than nothing. Tom couldn’t imagine coming any other way now. He wanted to be spanked, ordered around, to let his mind slip away as it only could when Cypress was taking control of him.
He wanted to be a good boy.
Good boys didn’t have to worry about people screaming at them, how sad they were deep inside, or fight the exhaustion that was making their very bones feel too heavy.
They also didn’t have to fret about assholes like Junior and what they might be up to.
Since their confrontation, Tom hadn’t seen much of Junior, and he was perfectly fine with that. Tom kept to himself in the prep room, did his work, and he hadn’t heard a peep from Gerald or Mr. Crosby about the formaldehyde. His threat had worked for the time being, but he couldn’t shake the foreboding that it wouldn’t last.
Saturday finally arrived, and Tom was practically bouncing off the walls all day. Every passing hour brought him closer to clocking out and going out with Cypress on their date.
The details of said date were still a mystery since Cypress had neglected to share with him what they were going to do, but Tom didn’t really care. As long as they were together, the rest didn’t matter. He was dying to taste those sweet lips again, and he was so ready for his brain to switch off for a few hours.
Tom needed a break from all this death, from his turbulent thoughts, and as five o’clock approached, he was ready to bolt.
They’d only had one new call today, an elderly man named Mr. Lopez, who had passed away in a rehab facility. Junior was waiting on the family, but Tom wasn’t expecting to embalm. It was already so close to five, and he quickly finished mopping up the prep room.
Aaron was keeping him company, noting, “You’re in a good mood.”
“Oh?” Tom smiled. “No more than usual, I guess.”
“No. You’ve been grinning all damn day. I’ve never seen you look this happy before.”
Tom frowned. “What? I’m always happy, aren’t I?”
“Not like this.” Aaron chuckled. “I’ve only seen you floating around like this when HFG pops in.” He held up his hand. “Sorry, when ‘Cypress’ pops in.”
Tom smirked and went back to mopping.
“You!” Aaron gasped. “That’s what it is, isn’t it? You and Cypress?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Tom replied innocently.
“You guys going out, huh?” Aaron grinned. “I’ve never seen you watch the clock like you have today. That’s totally what it is. You guys have a date.”
“Maybe,” Tom said, unable to resist the faint blush rising in his cheeks. “Maybe not.”
“Ah, young love.” Aaron batted his eyes. “Where are you crazy kids going?”
“I actually don’t know,” Tom confessed. “He’s been keeping it all sort of hush-hush? It’s gonna be some sort of big surprise.”
“What about Mister Doodles?”
“Cypress is picking me up from my place, so I’ll have time to take Mister Doodles out, shower, and get ready.”
“Make sure you wear your new cologne.”
“Oh, definitely.”
The door beeped, and they paused their conversation as Junior walked in.
Tom unconsciously tightened his grip on the mop handle.
Junior had a piece of paper in his hand, snapping shortly, “Embalming permission for Mr. Lopez.”
Tom’s heart
sank.
“Pffft, are you serious?” Aaron scoffed. “It’s ten ‘til five.”
“This is the funeral business, remember?” Junior drawled. “Shift doesn’t end at five. It ends when the work is done.”
“Junior, I have plans—” Tom began.
“Really? How sweet. I don’t give a shit.” Junior rolled his eyes. “They wanna see him first thing tomorrow morning. Ten o’clock. I have to rush order the casket to make sure it’ll be here on time and finish this obituary in the next fuckin’ hour to make the deadline for tomorrow’s paper, so I don’t wanna hear your whining.”
Tom wanted to hit him with the mop.
“You’re such a dick,” Aaron grumbled.
“Whatever,” Junior snorted, thrusting the permission at Tom. “Here. Have fun.”
Tom flinched when Junior slammed the door behind him, sighing miserably. He had no idea how he was going to explain this to Cypress.
“Sorry, man,” Aaron said. “If I was licensed to embalm, I would totally cover for you.”
“It’s okay,” Tom replied, forcing a smile. “It’s no big deal. I’m sure I can reschedule with Cypress or something.”
“Yeah, totally. I hope you guys still have some fun tonight.” Aaron patted his shoulder. “Shelby is taking us to a stir fry cooking class, so know I’ll be suffering with you.”
Tom laughed weakly. “Thanks, man.”
“I’ll say a prayer to the embalming gods for an easy prep. Have a good night, Tom.”
“Later.” Tom put the mop aside since there was no point in finishing now. He took out his phone to send Cypress a text.
Last minute embalming. I’m so sorry, but I’m gonna be late.
How late?
If everything goes okay, I might be able to get out of here by seven.
Well, that’s what time I was planning to pick you up.
Tom groaned loudly. Great, now Cypress was pissed at him. At least that’s how Tom was taking the text. It was so hard to infer emotion, and he was naturally assuming the worst.
I know, I’m sorry. I’ll be finished as soon as I can. I can probably make 7:30?
Don’t worry about it.
Tom’s heart dropped down into his shoes.
Don’t worry about it, as in it’s not a big deal? Or don’t worry about it, as in forget about it? What did that even mean?
He stood there, dumbly staring at his phone as he waited for a reply. He didn’t know how to ask for further clarification without sounding like a complete idiot, and time was ticking away.
And he still had an embalming to do.
Muttering a long string of curse words, he stalked to the walk-in cooler to find Mr. Lopez. As he rolled him back into the prep room, he started talking out loud, “I know this isn’t your fault, Mr. Lopez. It’s your crazy family’s fault for wanting to see you so soon. Shit, I’m sorry, I don’t mean that.”
He sighed as he pulled Mr. Lopez over onto the porcelain embalming table. He pushed the empty stretcher out into the hall and came back in to start gowning up. All the while, he found himself talking to Mr. Lopez.
“I’m sure your family is super nice, and they are very sad that you’re dead. That’s why they want to see you. It has nothing to do with Junior being an absolute assface and finding a way to screw me over. Nope, not at all.”
Undressing and positioning Mr. Lopez was easy since he was only wearing a hospital gown and a diaper. Tom gave him a paper towel for modesty’s sake and got the water going so he could shave him. Mr. Lopez only had a day’s worth of stubble so that was simple, too.
Tom mixed the fluids, gathered up his instruments, and began to embalm, mumbling to himself as he worked.
“And what was up with his text message? ‘Don’t worry about it’? Telling someone not to worry is going to make them worry, right?”
He made a small incision right above Mr. Lopez’s collarbone to locate his carotid artery and the jugular vein. The fluid would be injected into the artery, and blood would be drained from the vein at the same time.
A small L-shaped tube called a cannula would be attached to the embalming machine hose and inserted into the artery to administer the fluid. There were several options for drainage instruments, but Tom’s favorite was a unique drain tube called a vein dilator or a birdcage, so named for its wiry appearance.
As fluid was injected into the body, Tom would pull and twist the birdcage in and out of the vein to remove clots and ensure proper drainage. A blockage could lead to the body swelling, particularly the face, and though it could be fixed, it was a problem best avoided if possible.
Before starting the injection, Tom would set the features. Everything was first cleaned with cotton and disinfectant. Eyes were then closed using a small piece of plastic covered in small ridges called an eye cap. The cap kept the eye shut and helped maintain its shape as sinking was possible as dehydration set in. Particularly stubborn eyes would get a small dab of super glue or cotton if they were particularly sunken.
The method for closing the mouth was always a hot topic of debate between embalmers. Some liked to suture it closed, running a needle and string between certain points inside the mouth and the septum to tie it shut. Others, like Tom, used a device called a needle injector.
It resembled a small piercing gun, though the styles could vary, and instead of pushing an earring, it pushed a small barb with a piece of wire into the bone. One barb would be placed inside the gum line on top, and another would be set on the bottom. When that was done, the wires would be twisted together to keep the mouth closed.
Either way was acceptable, but Tom didn’t like suturing because he felt it made the deceased’s mouth look too drawn or puckered. What he could achieve with the needle injector looked much more natural to him, although the thunk sound it made as the gun drove the barb in was a bit unpleasant.
After snipping off the excess wire, Tom tucked the twist out of the way and carefully adjusted Mr. Lopez’s lips. A big grin would look silly, but he didn’t want a frown either. His goal was a peaceful smile, and he would spend more time setting the features than any other part of the embalming process.
There was only one chance to get this right, and he wanted it to be perfect.
When Tom was finally satisfied, he turned the machine on. As the fluid began to pump inside Mr. Lopez, he used soap to start massaging Mr. Lopez’s hands and arms, working down his legs to his feet. Tom massaged his face as well to make sure the embalming fluid would distribute evenly.
The most obvious sign that the body was taking fluid was a color change. The pale skin would start to turn a warm pink color, and areas that had wrinkled would start to fill out again, like the tips of Mr. Lopez’s fingers. Another sign was the distention of superficial vessels, like the veins on the backs of Mr. Lopez’s hands standing up.
The arterial injection and drainage went well, but it was already a quarter to seven by the time Tom was disconnecting and cleaning the embalming machine. He still had to do cavity treatment and bathe Mr. Lopez before he’d be done.
Arterial embalming treated most of the body, but it did not adequately penetrate hollow organs such as the lungs, heart, stomach, intestines, and bladder. Cavity treatment had to be performed to drain those organs of excess fluid and inject them with cavity fluid to preserve them.
Both steps were completed using a trocar, a large hollow instrument that looked like a giant hypodermic needle. After being connected to the hydro aspirator, a device that created intense suction using water pressure, Tom pushed the trocar into Mr. Lopez’s stomach beside his navel. From this one point, he could twist the trocar all around to pierce the necessary organs.
Even if he didn’t get a lot of fluid out, the trocar moving in and out made lots of holes in the organs and created pathways for the cavity fluid to go. Before he did that, he used a needle and thread to sew up the embalming incision by Mr. Lopez’s collarbone.
The last thing any embalmer wanted was to spill cavity fluid. One
whiff was sure to cure any stuffy nose and make even the most hardened mortician’s eyes water.
The cavity fluid was injected using a short hose that connected the bottle to the end of the trocar. Tom held the trocar in one hand and, with the other, held the bottle upside down above his head. He would move the trocar all around to disperse the fluid and gravity did the rest.
The hole in Mr. Lopez’s stomach would be closed with a trocar button, a small plastic screw that was twisted into place using a trocar button applicator. It wasn’t anything more than a sort of specialized screwdriver except that instead of a flat head, it had two prongs that fit into the trocar button.
The last step was bathing, and Tom was always very thorough. To wash the back, he would alternate rolling Mr. Lopez on either side to make sure he didn’t miss anything. He washed his hair, rinsed him off, and then it was time to dry. Right as he was putting some moisturizer on Mr. Lopez’s face and preparing to cover him with a sheet, he heard a knock on the prep room door.
The sound startled Tom, and he jerked his head up at the clock. It was seven-fifteen now, and he had no idea who would be knocking.
All the employees had the door code to get in here. After all, a code was required to even gain access to the hallway outside.
Tom quickly covered Mr. Lopez up and began to strip out of his gear. Heart pounding, he slowly opened the door and couldn’t believe who was waiting for him on the other side.
“Cypress!”
“You know, you guys should really stop propping that door open,” Cypress said with a click of his tongue. “No telling what kind of weirdos might walk right in.”
“What are you doing here?” Tom quickly stepped out of the prep room, shutting the door behind him.
“We have a date, remember?” Cypress reminded him, looking especially fantastic in an olive-green sweater and dark jeans.
“But you said not to worry about it?” Tom frowned, very aware he was a sweaty mess in wrinkled scrubs. He had no idea what his hair even looked like, but it was probably bad.
“Yeah, didn’t you get my other texts?”
“I was embalming?”
“Come with me,” Cypress said, taking Tom’s hand and smiling slyly.