“Aw, that’s too bad,” Leslie said, not really that disappointed. “I just thought you’d get a lot out of the presentation. Didn’t you tell me Ed is looking to take his marketing in a new direction?”
“Yeah. But I’m not sure if Twitter and Facebook are a good fit. Anyway, if you think about it, save me some handouts. I’d better get going. I’ll talk to you soon.” Kay ended the phone call, wondering why she’d been born with the “weenie gene” while Leslie got the “take-no-prisoners gene.”
“Was that Aunt Les?” Cory asked, bounding down the stairs, almost knocking Kay over at the bottom. “I wanted to say hi.”
“Yes it was. She’s really excited that your dad is back.” Kay hoped telling these little lies wasn’t going to become a habit.
“Gimme a break, Mom,” Cory said, clearly not buying what Kay was trying to sell. “She can’t stand Dad. Never has…never will.”
“Cory, this isn’t about your Dad. It’s about you girls. You know Aunt Leslie only wants the best for you.”
“Whatever.” Cory said in the universal snarky teenage refrain. “Anyway, the best thing for me is to not have to spend weekends at Dad’s house.” Kay could sense the power Cory felt speaking those words. It made Kay feel proud and sad at the same time.
She really is maturing.
“Why do you have to be so mean?” Mariah asked, following her sister into the room. “Aren’t you glad we’re going to get to see Dad more often?
“Shut up, Stupid,” Cory barked at her little sister.
“Cory!” Kay snapped backed.“ Ok, maybe I’ve overestimated the maturity thing. Cory truly fit the definition of “Tween.”
“She bugs, Mom,” Cory whined. “Anyway, if it was just Dad, it would be great. But we have to see her, too,” she said. “Mom, it’s hard to believe, but Sandy’s gotten even meaner since Little Dave was born. And Dad never does anything about it”
“Oh, Honey. Sandy is a new mom. It’s only natural she’s a little over-protective.” The instant the words left her mouth, she knew she’d probably insulted Cory’s intelligence.
“Over-protective of Dad you mean,” Cory said. “She thinks she owns him. You know she’s always hated sharing him with us. And now that Dave Jr. is in the picture she’s ten times worse. Believe me, I’ll never be missed.”
“Well, I told Dad about your decision and he wasn’t happy about it at all. I’m sure he’s going to want to talk to you before this weekend. Are you ready to have that conversation?”
“Can’t you talk to him for me?” Cory said. She sounded like a five year old.
“Absolutely not! If you really believe you’re old enough to make the decision not to see him, then you’re old enough to discuss it with him like an adult.”
Cory’s back straightened into a defiant posture. “Fine! I will. But you know he’s going to try to lay a big guilt trip on me.”
“Well, then you’re going to have to decide if you’d rather spend the weekend here feeling guilty, or feeling miserable at your Dad’s house,” Kay said, falling back on the tried and true parenting technique of presenting the girls with choices. Not only was it a great little teaching tool, it had the bonus of letting her off the hook for making unpopular decisions. Sometimes watching Dr. Phil actually paid off.
“I wanna go,” Mariah said, with sincere enthusiasm. “I haven’t seen Little Dave in a long time, and I’ve really missed him.”
“Yeah…he’s about your speed,” Cory said. The jealousy in her voice wasn’t completely disguised.
“That’s enough,” Kay said. “You girls have gotta get a move on. You’re going to miss the bus. And I have to get to work.”
* * *
Kay had a 40-minute commute to work which she never minded. Her route took her in the opposite direction of rush-hour traffic and the low-stress drive gave her an opportunity to relax and prepare herself for the day. The return trip was the same, only in reverse. She had time to unwind before she had to take on the excitement/disappointment/frustration or whatever else the girls were anxious to report about what went on in school that day.
This morning, Kay was trying to get her head together before her 9:30 a.m. pre-arrangement appointment. Of all of her duties as an apprentice funeral director, “making arrangements” was probably her favorite.The process could be tedious and complicated and Kay took great pride in making it as stress-free as possible for “her families.”
But rather than focusing on her meeting, her train of thought kept being derailed with concerns about how her and the girls’ lives were going to change now that Dave was back in town.
No doubt, the cut in child support was going to have an impact on her finances. Kay had to admit she was spoiled by the cushion the extra $850 a month provided. But when it came to the well-being of her girls, no amount of money could compensate for Dave’s absence. It certainly didn’t ease the weight of responsibility that came with being a single parent. His willingness to play an active role meant some of this weight would be lifted off her shoulders. She wasn’t lying when she told her sister his hands-on help was worth the deduction.
Then there was Cory. Her decision to remain behind on Dave’s visiting weekends had stirred up a real hornets’ nest. Kay still wasn’t sure which side of the issue she was on.
On the one hand, she was proud (and a little envious) Cory was exercising her power to say no. Up to this point, Dave had had his way in practically everything, which included saying “no” to what she regarded as reasonable requests.
On the other hand, she hadn’t had a free weekend in as long as she could remember. Having both girls at their dad’s meant she could plan something fun in the company of adults. She loved her girls, but often longed for conversations that were above an 8th grade level.
And dare she allow herself to entertain thoughts about dating in earnest? This could only add more confusion to the mix. Up to now, she had strictly confined her dating activities to the summers when the girls were gone.
Kay thought about her divorced friends who had immediately returned to the dating scene with unbridled enthusiasm. She admired their courage to get back in the game, but she had never felt comfortable playing the “single gal” in front of the girls.
If Cory changed her mind, she might finally be able to attend a meeting of the singles group she’d impulsively signed up for three months prior. Kay had always looked at these groups as being kind of “loser-ey” and swore she’d never sink to such an artificial level to meet men. In this instance, though, her curiosity had been piqued by a newspaper article describing a new social group recruiting and screening for “professional” singles.
Kay had pored over the article with a mix of curiosity and horror wanting to know who these professionally-single people were. It was only after reading past the first few paragraphs she realized her misunderstanding. They weren’t looking for professional singles but people who had college degrees and worked at a professional level.
To her surprise, she found herself calling the number mentioned in the article and was the very first person to be interviewed and invited into the group. But that’s as far as it had gone. Unfortunately, scheduling conflicts due to the girls’ activities had prevented her from attending.
Why, I haven’t gone to a single meeting. She chuckled at her silly pun.
Kay wasn’t looking for true love. It was embarrassing to admit, but she wasn’t completely over her divorce. She just wanted an opportunity to take her social skills out for a spin every now and then. She needed to be sure Kay The Person, hadn’t been completely overtaken by Kay The Mom.
Kay loved being a mom, but she thought it was important to guard against it becoming her entire identity. Not because being a mother was something to look down on, but because it just seemed too risky - putting all your eggs in one basket. She knew one day the girls would be grown and gone and she didn’t want to be left wondering who the heck she was when there was no longer anyone at home calling her “Mom.�
� And being a funeral director was a job, not an identity.
Before the divorce she had been proud to stay at home with her girls. From time to time she’d encounter some woman who wasn’t shy about expressing her scorn for women who’d chosen to raise children rather than earn a paycheck. Kay never took it personally because she knew there was usually something much deeper going on behind the woman’s need to ridicule. Especially in the case of one particular woman.
Kay’s stomach twisted thinking back to the unpleasant encounter that took place when she and Dave were still married and his affair with Sandy was in full swing.
His company’s city league softball team had just finished a game and everyone had gathered at a nearby pizza parlor to celebrate their win.
Kids had always been naturally drawn to Kay and this day wasn’t any different. She was sitting in a booth waiting for Dave to bring their pizza when several of the kids who had come to see their parents play spontaneously piled into the seat with her.
Sandy, the company’s receptionist at the time and Ellen Cleary, the company’s bookkeeper, were sitting in the adjoining booth facing Kay. Sandy took one look at her in the middle of all those kids and snickered. Then, loud enough to make sure everyone heard, she said in a snotty, condescending tone, “Oh Kay…you’re such a mother,” emphasizing “mother” and obviously leaving off the “fucker” part of the description. Sandy turned to Ellen and the two of them elbowed each other and giggled like a couple of junior high mean girls. Kay had been humiliated…not because she was sitting under a heap of children, but because she knew Sandy was making it clear to everyone who the real woman was in Dave’s life.
So down, down, down the rabbit hole of her spiraling thoughts Kay fell, until without knowing it, she had reached the turn-in to the mortuary parking lot. She shuddered with alarm realizing she had no memory of how she’d gotten there.
So, is this how it’s gonna be?
Kay carefully brought the car to a stop and slid the gear shift into Park. She lowered her head onto the steering wheel, keenly aware of the tightness that had built up in her neck and shoulder muscles.
Seven years of peace and serenity down the drain?
No. This would never do. She had worked too hard to regain her emotional footing after the divorce. To let herself become that crazy person again was unacceptable. For the sake of her sanity, as well as the safety of other drivers, she would have to be more mindful about staying in the present moment and dealing with matters right in front of her. In this moment a family was counting on her to help them arrange a fitting celebration of their dying-mother’s life.
Kay raised her head, turned off the car and took some slow, deep breaths. As soon as the brick on her chest finally dissolved, she got out of the car and headed toward the employee entrance, head held high as if nothing in her world had changed.
3
The Black Dahlia
“Kay, just a reminder your appointment at the McNab’s is at 9:30,” Ruth announced over the office intercom.
Ruth Linton was the office manager and receptionist at Salinger’s Mortuary, positions she had proudly held for over twenty-five years. Her soft, grandmotherly appearance and demeanor were perfect for easing the fear and discomfort that usually came with being in a mortuary for the first time. But as often is the case, looks were deceiving. Ruth was tough-as-nails and Ed Salinger implicitly trusted her with the day to day operation of the business.
“Thank you, Ruth. I was just getting my paperwork together.” Kay replied.
She panicked for a split second when she couldn’t find the file folder marked “Emily McNab” she had pulled from the file cabinet on Friday afternoon. She was still a little rattled from her upsetting drive and wasn’t thinking all that clearly. There it was, right where she’d left it, in her In-box desk tray.
Mrs. McNab had been battling leukemia off and on for the last six years and even though she was currently in remission, she decided it was time to get her affairs in order. During the call to set the appointment she’d said to Kay, “my mother did this for me, and it was a true blessing. I want to do the same for my family.” She told Kay that with everything they’d gone through over the years, she didn’t want her family burdened with the difficult task of arranging her funeral after she was gone.
Today, Kay was paying a visit to the McNab home at Emily’s request. Kay had done hundreds of pre-arrangements, typically for people who were healthy and just, smartly, planning ahead. Providing these services to families who knew death might be lurking right around the corner was another thing all together. It’s what made her job so special. It was like being asked to come along on a very important journey and then trusted to handle intimate details of the trip. As emotionally daunting as it was, for everyone concerned, the sense of relief, peace and lightness that filled the room at the conclusion of the meeting was really a wonder to behold. The gratitude expressed by family members taught Kay what it was to feel truly humble.
With a quick double-check of the file to make sure she had all the necessary papers and forms, she grabbed her keys and let Ruth know she was leaving.
* * *
Two and a half hours later Kay was back in the office treating herself to her first cup of coffee of the day. It was her own little private celebration in honor of everything going so smoothly with the McNab’s. She was bringing the cup to her mouth, taking in the delicious aroma, relishing the anticipation of its hot, full-bodied richness when the buzz of the intercom made her jump, causing her to scald her lips and dribble coffee down the front of her blouse. “Crap,” Kay muttered as she carefully put the steaming cup back down on the desk.
“Yes?” Kay answered, blotting the wet mess from her blouse with the closest thing she could find - a crumpled-up Kleenex hastily pulled out of her wastebasket.
“Kay, Mrs. Burleigh is here and she’d like to see you.” Ruth said. “Are you free?”
Kay looked longingly at the cup of coffee getting colder with each passing moment. “Is it the usual?” Kay groaned, knowing Ruth understood what she meant.
“That’s correct,” Ruth said in that telephone code meant to sound professional but really intended to keep the other person from knowing they’re being talked about in front of their backs.
“Aw, geez,” Kay replied. “Ok. Give me a sec. I spilled coffee on my blouse and I need to clean it up.”
“Ok. I’ll ask her to wait.” Ruth spoke with her usual air of competence.
Evelyn Burleigh, aka The Black Dahlia, was here for her monthly review of her funeral pre-arrangement file. The reason for the inspection changed from month to month, but it was usually due to some impending crisis of the utmost urgency.
Last month’s visit was prompted by a serious medical crisis. Evelyn had to be sure her final wishes were in order because, while enjoying herself at the senior citizens’ dance in the arms of Horace Bledsoe, jitterbugging to Glenn Miller’s, In The Mood, her “uterus fell out.” The gynecologically-challenged woman explained to a stunned Kay the official diagnosis was uterine “relapse” and it could happen again at any time.
The truth was Evelyn was a lonely old woman who just needed someone to talk to now and then. Tony, her 40 year old, unemployed son lived with her but spent the majority of the time in his room watching TV, emerging only when he wanted something to eat.
Kay had christened Evelyn,The Black Dahlia, because the woman reminded her of those “big brassy dames” of the Silver Screen. She always wore a huge, black floppy-brimmed hat and big black sun-glasses that when removed, revealed seriously-smudged black mascara. All that was missing was a smoldering cigarette at the end of a long black cigarette holder to complete the picture.
Evelyn was in her early seventies but carried herself straight and tall with a theatrical elegance which she attempted to insert into her speech. Her sentences included plenty of “Dahlings” and were punctuated with big, dramatic arm and hand gestures. The only problem was she didn’t have a good grasp
of everyday phrases and expressions and her mangled deliveries were a source of great amusement for Kay.
From her office doorway Kay could see Evelyn, in full black regalia, nervously pacing back and forth in front of Ruth’s desk. As she neared the reception area she realized Evelyn was not alone. Slumped in a chair across from Ruth was Tony, looking bored or dim-witted…Kay couldn’t decide which. The blue sweat pants he was wearing were badly faded, full of holes and in desperate need of laundering. His red t-shirt, obviously two sizes too small, failed to cover his large, protruding stomach.
Take off the pants, and you’ve got Winnie the Pooh.
Kay was already getting in the spirit of the comedy show about to start.
“Evelyn, how good to see you,” Kay said, extending her hand to greet the old woman.
“Dahling, I’m so glad you’re here,” she said, ignoring Kay’s hand and enveloping her in a dramatic embrace that almost knocked Kay out of her pumps. “You remember my Tony,” Evelyn said, pushing Kay away and proudly nodding toward the moping mass in the chair.
“Of course I do. Hello, Tony,” Kay said, trying to be enthusiastic for Evelyn’s sake.
Keeping his gaze on the floor, and using every ounce of energy he could muster, Tony snapped his arm up at the elbow in one of those limp, “heil Hitler!” salutes.
Kay returned her attention to Tony’s mother, still beaming with pride at her brooding blob. “What can I do for you today, Evelyn?”
“Something has come up and I need to check my pre-arrangement file.”
“Of course, Evelyn. No problem. Let’s go back to my office.” Kay said. She was surprised to see Tony quickly rise from his chair and follow behind.
Looking for sympathy, Kay shot a quick glance back at Ruth, but the ever-professional woman had already turned her attention back to her computer screen. Kay was on her own.
Same Old Truths (The Reluctant Avenger) Page 2
