“Don’t know, dude, I just met her — sort of. Anyway, it’s gettin’ late, man. I think I’ll wander on home. The old lady is probably rattling the windows by now.” He shrugged, “At least I can shower.”
“You shower? Does everyone after they…you know.”
“Probably not. What for? Eh, I mostly do it out of habit, I guess. You’ll find we do most things out of habit. And I like the feel of the warmth.”
“Oh.” Marv looked down at the floor. He had things he wanted to know, things about this new existence. “Hey, Tommy, before you leave, can I ask you something?”
“Anything, dude. My brain is full of useless information, just for the taking. Ask away.”
“What about…other things.”
“Like…”
“Uh, you know. Personal…things.”
Tommy started laughing. It was a good laugh, one he hadn’t experienced in a long, long time. It started in his throat, moved down to his belly, and spread through his entire being. It felt good, but he noticed Marvin stood looking at him stone-faced.
“Oh, sorry, man. I can’t help it,” Tommy struggled to get the words out through fits of laughter that threatened to turn to giggles. He settled down with forced control even though the broad smile on his face ached to give in. “Marvin, my man, I am a child of the flower power generation. You know: Drop out, tune in, turn on.” He waited for some recognition to come to Marvin’s face, when it didn’t appear he continued, “The late sixties? Hippies, communes, free love?”
“Ah,” was all Marv responded with. At least now he knew how many years it had been since Tommy had flipped burgers, figuratively speaking of course, at Epstein’s Deli.
“So, we’re both guys here. Ain’t nothin’ you could ask that’s gonna shock me, or embarrass me. What you wanna know?”
“What about… Well… like, what if I need to take a leak? Do we do that?” Marvin wasn’t sure why he was fidgeting and acting like a twelve-year-old kid, because he’d had plenty of “guy” conversations with his co-workers, that schmuck Crowley not-withstanding, but he thought maybe it could be due to Tommy being a recent acquaintance.
“Well, we drink don’t we? Ever wonder why some folks swore they could hear running water but, when they check, it turns out to be nothing? They think they imagined it? It’s usually because one of us showered or flushed the toilet. Me? I normally do that kinda thing in large restrooms.”
“Like at the movies,” Marvin stated to prove he got it.
“Like at the movies,” Tommy confirmed for him. “Or in a restaurant. You know, I just can’t bring myself to take a whiz on the street like some do.”
“You’re kidding, right? That’s gross!”
“How many times have you walked down a street and seen a small puddle, or noticed the side of a building is wet in one spot?”
“I guess I always assumed it was someone’s dog.”
Tommy shrugged. “Well, it is mostly bums. Guess old habits die hard.”
Marvin paused for a moment before he asked his next question. “What about sex?”
“With ours or theirs?”
Marvin splayed his hands, “Whatever.”
“Not with them,” Tommy nodded towards Jen. “Never with them. Unfortunately, for me anyway, it ain’t any easier on this side than it ever was over there.”
“What happened to all that ‘free love’ you mentioned,” Marvin made quotes with his fingers.
Tommy shook his head. “Hey, I never said I got much after leaving the commune.”
Marvin sighed. “So, just suffer huh?”
“’Bout the size of it.” Tommy walked to the front door. Just before he stepped through, he turned back and said, “ ’Course, you could always flog your log, as we used to say. Catch ya later, dude.”
Marvin heard Tommy’s laughter roll down the hallway and turned his attention back to Jen, who hadn’t moved from the chair but still sniffled frequently and ran the back of her arm against her cheeks to swipe at the tears.
A while later, he followed her to the bedroom, where she pulled her clothes off, dropped them in a pile on the floor and, in a sudden burst of anger, kicked the entire heap across the room. “You know, I hope you can hear me, you — you asshole! I am so pissed off at you right now.”
“Jesus H Jen! Now what? I’m dead and I still can’t do anything right.”
“You did this on purpose, didn’t you?” she asked with a catch in her voice. “I knew it. I knew you’d do anything to get out of it!” She pulled on one of his old, cast off t-shirts and flopped to the bed.
“Oh, yeah, I walked in front of a bus just to get out of marrying you. What’re you, nuts or something?”
“Why? Why? What am I supposed to do now, huh? What am I supposed to do?”
She sounded so forlorn, he wanted to help, but Marvin didn’t have an answer. No one had ever died on him. His entire family was still alive and kicking. He chuckled at the thought of his mother always imploring, always pleading, always worried over silly things, over such…nonsense. He looked in the direction of upstate New York, “Well, Ma, at least you don’t have to worry about me anymore. Now, you can concentrate on David. And David? Sorry bro, I feel for you, but you’ll have to pick up the slack on that end.”
He watched Jen get up and go to the closet. She yanked one of his dress shirts from a hanger, put it to her face and breathed in deep; the scent seemed to calm her. She balled it up and hugged it close as she went back to bed.
Marvin climbed in and wrapped his body around hers, like he had done every night of their life together. Of course, when he was alive, it was because he hoped he would get laid. And he had to hand it her: most times, he did. This was different though. This time he just wanted to be close to her, hold her, comfort her. He felt the buzz and tingle of contact with one of them, as Tommy had put it, a live person. He whispered in her ear, “Jen, I wish you could hear me. I am so sorry. I wish I could fix it. I wish I could help you, but I’m not sure how I can.”
Jen brushed at the tickle and let out a little sigh. “Oh, goddammit, Marv…” and cried herself to sleep.
-5-
Tommy caught a glimpse of Marvin walking briskly east along Broad Street. He struggled to catch up, bumping through people as he went.
“Marvin. Hey, Marvin! Marvin, wait up! Dude, where ya goin’?”
“Following her to the funeral home.” He pointed to Jen, who was about a yard ahead. “She’s got an appointment at eleven o’clock.”
“Bummer.”
“I want to make sure she does this right.”
“Did you have everything laid out? I mean, in writing — a will and all that?”
“No, why?”
“What do you expect her to do then?”
Marvin considered this for a minute. “I don’t know. I’m sure we talked about this kind of thing at some point. Didn’t we? I mean, wouldn’t we?”
“You’re asking me? Dude, we just met yesterday. How do I know what you did or didn’t talk about with your wife.”
“Not my wife. Girlfriend — I mean, fiancée. She better do me right, that’s all I can say. She doesn’t know my mother.”
They followed Jen as she turned left on 38th Street, walked another half block and stopped in front of a building. The small, discreet black sign, with gold lettering read Davis Funeral Home, Leonard Davis, Proprietor. She nodded and stepped to the entrance. She opened the heavy door just far enough to let her slight frame slip in and it shut behind her, cutting Marvin in half.
“I don’t believe this! She let the door slam in my face. How do you like that?”
“Marvin, you’re dead. She didn’t know you were there.”
“Don’t go making excuses for her, Tommy,” Marvin protested, until Tommy’s words actually registered and he let out a deep sigh. “Sorry. This dead thing is going to take some getting used to.”
An older man in his mid-sixties dressed in a black Armani suit, silver hair perfectly combed,
approached Jenna. “Mr. Leonard Davis, Proprietor of Davis Funareel Home, how may I help you young lady?”
“How do you like this guy, Marvin? Holy crap, gold and diamond cufflinks for God’s sake.”
“He’s Jewish anyway; that’ll make my mother happy.”
“How do you know he’s Jewish?”
“The cufflinks — Star of David.”
Jen put her hand out and expected to shake his. “I’m Jenna Wilson. I called earlier?”
Mr. Davis held her hand in a gentle grasp. “Yes, Ms. Wilson. Of course. The unfortunate accident of your, fiancé was he? We’re sorry for your loss.” He bent slightly at the waist and planted a light kiss on the back of her hand.
Marvin watched in disdain. “I’ll bet. This is a chunk of change in your pocket. You’re probably so happy to see her, you could soil your silk underwear.”
Tommy laughed and walked around to Mr. Davis’s back. “Silk, huh? Want me to find out?”
Marvin laughed, but shook his head.
They all followed Mr. Davis into an exquisite, but showy office. A monstrous mahogany desk with leather inlay and a big executive chair done in Italian leather sat at the far end of the room. Closer to the door two comfortable chairs, but not too comfortable — Mr. Davis didn’t want people lounging half the afternoon, after all — and a matching brocade sofa surrounded a large mahogany coffee table that was strewn with pamphlets on the grieving process. He gestured toward the sofa, “May I get you something to drink?”
“A nice stiff shot of scotch would be great. And make it the good stuff. I know you’ve got it in here somewhere,” Marvin said for Tommy’s benefit and started looking around the office. “Let’s see…bottom drawer of the desk? Nope. The credenza, over here beneath the window? Bingo!” he announced, when he lifted it out.
Tommy, pleased Marvin was having fun, decided he’d explore the rest of the place.
“A bottle of water would be nice, thank you,” Jenna said.
“Coming right up.” Mr. Davis walked to the desk, wondered why the credenza door was open (it wasn’t something he ever did), but didn’t notice the missing bottle (it was much too early for drinking and he possibly had a quite lucrative transaction to handle) and pushed a button on his phone. “Liz, could you bring a water in for Ms. Wilson please?”
“Right away, Mr. Davis.”
“Thank you, dear,” he said and pushed the button again to release the intercom. He shut the door on the credenza, walked over, sat in a chair and picked up a file from the table. Opening it, he continued, “Now, Ms. Wilson, what were you thinking of for your fiancé?”
“Please, call me Jenna.”
Mr. Davis smiled. “Jenna, then. Did you want a viewing of the deceased? Are you planning on burial, or cremation?”
“Oh, just cremation, I guess.”
“Are you kidding? That’s what you think of me?” Marvin took a swig of scotch. “You’re just going to toss my body into a furnace? I’m gonna kill her.”
“Well, that’s certainly most economical,” Mr. Davis replied to Jenna, as he scanned her off-the-rack couture. “Something to think about in these dreadful times. We do have quite a nice selection of urns for you to choose from. Now, for the viewing, we have rental caskets… You were thinking of a visitation, were you not?”
“I don’t know. That seems awfully…morose; depressing.”
“Never mind,” Marvin said, hoisting the bottle toward Jen, “My mother’s gonna kill you.”
“Besides,” Jen continued, “I don’t think anyone would really want to look at him, if you know what I mean.”
A light tap on the door interrupted them. Liz opened the door enough to stick her head in and waited for Mr. Davis to wave her in. She placed the bottle on the table in front of Jenna, crept back out and closed the door softly behind herself.
“I see… Now, your fiancé was of the Jewish faith, wasn’t he,” Mr. Davis inquired.
“Yes, well, we’re both Jewish, but we didn’t attend services or anything like that.”
“Does he have any immediate survivors?”
“Oh, yeah. His parents. And a brother. They all live in upstate New York.”
“But, certainly, they’ll want to travel down for…well, to pay their last respects?”
Marvin saw Tommy come back into the room. “Either this guy isn’t half bad and I take back what I said earlier, or he’s trying to up the ante.”
Whatever the man was thinking, Marv knew his mother would wail loud enough to be heard in Jerusalem if there wasn’t a proper Jewish burial, in a proper Jewish cemetery, with the proper length of mourning. My God, his mother, miss sitting Shiva? Miss a week’s worth of moaning and crying, and feeding the masses? Unthinkable!
In the end, Jenna agreed to two days of visitation, proper burial in the King David Cemetery across town, and had picked out a decent enough casket, even though Jewish tradition called for a wooden box. Overall, Marvin was satisfied. At least he wouldn’t have to listen to his mother moaning more than the occasion required.
Marvin and Tommy hovered over Mr. Davis’s shoulder as he tallied up the damage, whispering each item as he checked it off on the invoice. “Casket, visitation room, preparation of the body for closed casket, Rabbi for the services—one at the Temple, one graveside, obituary notice for three days publication, cemetery plot, ceremonial shovel, flowers for visitation, which will transfer to gravesite, hearse, limousine for procession…” He was much too discreet to mention the transfer of the body from the morgue; it wouldn’t do to upset the client. However, he noticed one missing item. “What about a headstone, Ms. Wilson?”
“Oh, right. Yes, of course.”
“The standard now is actually a stone marker of sorts, very low to the ground for maintenance purposes. What would you like on it?”
“His name of course… Well, Mr. Davis, though I am Jewish, I wasn’t raised in a Jewish home. Do whatever is customary for the faith.”
“Of course.” Satisfied, Mr. Davis slid the invoice and a pen across the desk to Jen, “That comes to a total of twenty-three thousand, four hundred, seventy-six dollars and thirty five cents. I’ll just need you to sign here,” he pointed to a line on the top page, flipped it to point to another line on page two, “and here.”
Jen sat stunned. This was more than their combined savings and she didn’t know where she would find the rest. She wondered if she ought to trim things down; make it more affordable, like, say twenty-five percent of the current total, but she had no idea how she could accomplish that and make it everything she thought Marvin deserved.
“Ms. Wilson, is there a problem?”
“Uh…that’s an awful lot of money. I wonder if we could trim some things.”
“Don’t you dare! Don’t you dare!” Marvin warned.
Jen shook her head and picked up the pen, “No. Never mind, Mr. Davis. This’ll be fine.” She scribbled her name in the appropriate places, pushed the paper back across the desk, and stood up, hand outstretched, to shake his hand.
“Now then, how would you like to pay for this? Check, credit?” Mr. Davis waited with a furrowed brow.
“Um, I’ll have to… I didn’t think it would be this much. I guess I can put some on my credit card, but I’ll have to pay the rest later.”
After a minute’s hesitation, while he summed her up, Mr. Davis ultimately decided she was trustworthy enough. He took her credit card and ran the deposit amount through to the tune of ten thousand dollars. He stapled one copy to the signed contract and placed that into the file folder.
“Excellent.” Mr. Davis handed Jen copies of everything, returned the credit card, and rose to escort her out. “We’ll see you in two days, then. And, don’t worry about a thing, Ms. Wilson, we’ll handle everything with utmost dignity.”
Marvin put the bottle of scotch back into the credenza and as an afterthought, just to screw with the guy, left the door open again.
“Thank you, Mr. Davis, I’m sure you will.”
“Yeah, and your mind is jumping for joy at the payday,” Marv accused.
“Bye,” Jen said, as she slipped out the door.
“Good day, Ms. Wilson.”
Outside, Marvin and Tommy stood pressed against the building to keep people from bumping through them and watched Jenna head toward home.
“Wanna catch the one o’clock at the CineDome?”
Marvin shrugged. “What the hell. What else do I have to do?”
They walked back to Broad Street and hopped the bus headed west.
“Another perk, Marvin,” Tommy indicated the bus. “Free transportation.”
Marvin smiled. “Tommy, it seems to me, it’s free everything.”
They rode in silence for a few blocks before Tommy realized this may have been a poor choice; getting on a bus might be a problem for Marvin. He glanced toward him, but Marvin seemed to be sitting comfortably watching the scenery go by. When the bus came to the stop at 84th Street, they patiently followed other passengers off, walked north across the parking lot, and cut through the shopping mall. The CineDome sat another quarter mile across a shared parking lot.
Once inside, Marvin suggested the new James Cameron film would be good and kill a fair amount of time to boot, plus it had what’s-her-name in it — the chick from Alien — and she was one hot number. Tommy wanted to see the new one with Meryl Streep.
“How could you not want to see a Streep film? She is by far the best actress of this generation. Dude, she’s Hepburn times four. She’s awesome.”
Marvin gave in easily, so they headed into Theater 6 and sat up in the last row. On a weekday afternoon, they pretty much had the place to themselves, except for the handful of senior citizens, if you didn’t count all the others who greeted them with nods and waves. If you did consider them, it was a full house.
“I have to admit, I enjoyed it. It was funny,” Marvin said afterward, as they exited the CineDome and headed for the bus stop.
“I told you, man, Streep is a sure bet. Say, you wanna grab a bite to eat somewhere, Marvin?”
Marv thought for a second. “Tommy…I think you should call me Brody. My friends call me Brody.”
[Marvin's] World of Deadheads Page 3