The Baby Mission

by Vivian Wood

  Addy guided Kenzie toward the corner of the waiting room and wrapped her arm around her. Kenzie cried into her shoulder, soaked her shirt. For some reason it reminded her of when they were kids and one of the neighbors had cut off Kenzie’s favorite Barbie’s hair into a mohawk.

  As tears tracked down her face, she thought of how she’d been strong for Kenzie then. Damn if she wouldn’t do the same now.

  “Addison? MacKenzie?” The same older doctor that had met her with Jack loomed over them. “I’m sorry, but your father’s heart stopped. We tried everything to revive him, but it was just too weakened by the cardiomyopathy.”

  Kenzie began to keen, and Addy massaged her shoulder gently.

  “Thank you for trying,” Addy said, holding in a sob.

  “If it’s any consolation, he went quick and painlessly. If it weren’t for the heart condition… cirrhosis is often a very long, drawn-out and painful disease. It… I hope this doesn’t sound crude, but it could be seen as a blessing.”

  “A blessing?” Kenzie said as she looked up from Addy’s shirt. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

  The doctor stiffened and looked away. “Someone will be by soon to talk about next steps with you.”

  “Thanks,” Addy said quietly.

  “Next steps? What does he mean next steps?” Kenzie asked.

  “I mean… I guess… what to do with the body? I don’t know, I’ve never done this before.”

  “What… what do we do with it?” Kenzie asked.

  “I don’t know,” Addy repeated.

  Two hours passed, and both girls cried most of their tears out. Addy felt hollow and empty, like a dishrag that had been wrung out.

  Finally, with Kenzie’s nagging, Addy approached the receptionist.

  “Excuse me? My father just… just died. And we were told to wait—”

  “Yes, Mrs. Stratton,” the receptionist said. “The hospital mortician is on his way right now to get you.”

  “Oh. Thanks.” Addy examined the woman’s face, but she didn’t recognize her. But clearly, the woman knew her as Jack’s wife.

  When she returned to Kenzie, there was a thin, pale, balding man standing over her. The epitome of a mortician.

  “Addison Fuller?” he asked and turned to her.

  “Yes.” She was taken aback by his sharp features.

  “I’m Craig Sanders, the hospital mortician on duty. The remains have been transported to the on-site mortuary. I’ll need one or both of you to formally identify the body.”

  “Identify… yeah, it’s our dad,” Kenzie said. “We were literally in there talking to him when he… when he…”

  “I understand this seems strange and outdated, but it’s required,” Mr. Sanders said.

  “Oh, um, okay?”

  “Follow me.” He walked at a surprisingly fast pace that made both of them half jog after him.

  It had only been a few hours, but their father’s body looked almost cartoonishly lifeless. Addy had always thought the dead would look like they were sleeping, but that wasn’t the case.

  It was almost magical how obvious it was that there was no life left. Kenzie let out a small cry, but no tears fell. She was all cried out.

  “Is this your father’s body, Theodore Fuller?” Mr. Sanders asked.

  “Yes,” Addy said.

  “Sign here.”

  She scribbled her name where he pointed, unaware of what the paper said. Kenzie reached out to their father’s arm as she handed the pen back.

  “Don’t touch him, Kenzie,” she said quickly.

  “Why not?”

  “Your sister’s probably right,” Mr. Sanders said. “It can be disorienting. Cold and stiff. But you’re welcome to, if you’d like.”

  Kenzie shivered. “Never mind.”

  “This way,” Mr. Sanders said, and escorted them into what looked like any other office. It could have been a CPA’s or attorney’s.

  “So, what’s next?” Addy said. She was comforted by kicking into planning mode.

  “Are you working with a funeral director?” Mr. Sanders asked.

  Kenzie let out a strange laugh.

  “No,” Addy said. “We weren’t… exactly planning this—”

  “I understand. Is there a specific church or other faith-based institute you’d like to handle the final proceedings?”

  “No,” Addy said. “Dad isn’t—wasn’t—religious.”

  “That’s fine. Do you know if your father had a will? Or other legal document that stipulated his wishes?”

  “I… I don’t know,” Addy said. “I don’t think so. But, he’d want to be buried next to Mom.”

  “Yeah,” Kenzie said. She nodded quickly. “Next to Mom.”

  “Alright, and do you know the name of the cemetery or mausoleum?”

  “It’s just the one on the hill,” Addy said. “You know? The big one.”

  “And what was your mother’s name?”

  “Janice Fuller.”

  “Alright.” Mr. Sanders made a note. “Addison, are you the administrator of your father’s estate?”

  “I… I guess so?”

  “Will the body be cremated prior to burial?”

  “Is that something I have to decide now?”

  “Not right away. But the doctor on staff does need to know. It’s required information on the medical certificate so you can register the death. Registration is required within five days.”

  Addy looked toward Kenzie.

  “Yeah,” her sister said. “Cremation. He… I don’t want him to be buried where all the bugs and… just cremate him. Okay?”

  “Okay,” Addy said. “Cremation.”

  “Alright,” Mr. Sanders said and made another note. “Do you know if your father would have wanted his organs donated prior to cremation?”

  “I, uh, I don’t think he felt strongly about that,” Addy said.

  “I don’t know if anyone would want them,” Kenzie said quietly.

  “Kenzie!”

  “That’s a common mistake,” Mr. Sanders said quickly. “Quite a bit of remains can be utilized for donation. Tissue, corneas—”

  “We get it,” Addy said. “Well, I guess? I mean, yes, you have my permission if there’s anything… you know, that can be used…”

  “Alright, then,” Mr. Sanders said. “If you’d like, the hospital works with an excellent funeral director who can serve as the liaison. He can set up arrangements with the cemetery, discuss memorial options with you if that would be of interest, and recommend bereavement counseling.”

  “Thanks,” Addy said.

  “Right this way, and we’ll get you the medical certificate and connect you with the funeral director.”

  Chapter Thirty

  Addy’s hands shook as she zipped up the black dress. It had been her mother’s, and she’d forgotten about it entirely.

  Only after she’d dismissed everything in her closet as not formal enough—and everything in Kenzie’s closet as too suggestive—did she venture into her parents’ old bedroom. Shoved in the far back was the knee-length black cocktail dress with sleeves to the elbow and a square neckline trimmed in pearls.

  When she’d found it, she brought the dress to her face and inhaled. Part of her thought that, somehow, it would still smell like her mom. But it smelled of nothing at all.

  “Addy, can you zip me up?” Kenzie wandered into the room in a slinky black dress that barely covered her ass.

  Black fishnet stockings hugged her legs.

  “Is that what you—sure,” Addy corrected herself. Kenzie held up her auburn hair as Addy squeezed her sister into the dress.

  “Thanks,” Kenzie said, and disappeared down the hall.

  “We leave in twenty!” Addy called after her.

  She looked in the mirror and gasped. Her mother stared back at her. Even with the dark circles under her eyes from the past five days of fitful sleep, she couldn’t deny it.

  Actually, it made her look even more like her mother. S
o many of her memories involved her mother being sick, and those dark half moons below her eyes were eerily familiar.

  Addy had been shocked at how quickly the hospital and the funeral director had pulled everything together. It was also so matter-of-fact and professional. Of course, that made sense. It was a business, and her father’s death was one of scores they probably handled every week.

  With Kenzie by her side, they’d been herded through countless questions and options. Addy had steeled herself in preparation for avoiding the common pitfalls she’d heard about.

  Funeral directors that tried to guilt grieving daughters into upgrading to a ten-thousand-dollar cherry wood coffin because “their loved one deserved it.” Addy knew she wouldn’t fall for the trap, but she had no idea how Kenzie would react.

  Fortunately, the funeral director at the hospital was far from a salesperson. She simply stated the starting options and was always upfront about prices. The only issue Kenzie struggled with was the coffin.

  “He’s cremated, Kenz,” Addy had said.

  “So?” Kenzie had looked to the funeral director for confirmation. “Cremated people can still have coffins, can’t they?”

  “You can certainly do whatever you like. Coffin or no coffin, but both are possible.”

  “Kenzie, what’s the point in a coffin?”

  “Mom had a coffin,” Kenzie pointed out.

  “How did you—I didn’t think you remembered that.”

  “You didn’t think I remembered Mom’s funeral?”

  “We’ll take a coffin,” Addy had said.

  “May I recommend the basic model?” the funeral director asked, keenly aware of Addy’s trepidation about the process. “It will serve the purpose just fine for the memorial service, and of course if you’d like to work with a florist they can accommodate as well.”

  “Sure,” Addy said. “Let’s do that.”

  “As for the remains, an option with cremation is to bury part of the remains and keep part. Is that something you’re interested in?”

  She could see Kenzie looking at her from the corner of her eye.

  “No… not for me at least,” Addy said. “Kenzie?”

  Kenzie bit her lip and slowly shook her head. “No, he’d want to be by Mom. And it feels weird to me, separating it like that—”

  “Okay,” the funeral director said.

  Addy shook her head at the swiftness of the process. She opened the closet in her old bedroom to find shoes, but realized all she had were beat-up sneakers.

  Shit. All my decent clothes and shoes are at Jack’s.

  But she’d be damned if she was going to call him up on the day of her father’s funeral and ask if she could come by for shoes.

  “Hey, Kenzie!”

  “You said twenty minutes, it’s only been ten!”

  “I know. Do you have some shoes I could borrow?” She could swear she heard Kenzie audibly perk up at that.

  “What kind?” Kenzie asked and popped her head into the room.

  “Uh, black. Formal,” Addy said.

  “Well, duh. Hold on.”

  She listened to Kenzie rush to her bedroom and start to bang around in the closet. Kenzie was half a size smaller than her, but she could handle pinched feet for a few hours.

  “These or these?” Kenzie asked. Both were at least six inches.

  “Oh, lord, Kenzie. I guess the ones without the platforms.”

  Kenzie shrugged and tossed the heels onto the bed.

  Her sister looped her arm through hers as they arrived at the small, Unitarian chapel at the crest of the cemetery’s hill. Immediately, virtual strangers swooped down on them to offer their condolences. Some were vaguely familiar to Addy, but most she didn’t recognize at all.

  “Did Dad really know all these people?” she whispered to Kenzie.

  Her sister shrugged.

  “Addison, Kenzie, I’m so sorry for your loss.” An ancient woman with blue-tinted hair approached them. “My late husband and I simply adored that restaurant when it first opened. Every Sunday, we went—”

  Addy listened to the woman drone on as more strangers approached them, offered stiff hugs, and dished up memories of her parents that didn’t resonate with her at all.

  When the host asked if anyone would like to say any words, Addy held her breath. When nobody stood up, the host turned to her.

  “Let’s just move to the service,” she said.

  A staff member whisked them to the graveside in a small golf cart. The simple casket hovered above an open grave with an arrangement of white lilies draped on top.

  In lieu of a religious service, Addy had asked that a poem be read. It was the same one their dad’s best man had read aloud at their parents’ vow renewal all those years ago.

  She had been ten years old when they renewed their vows lakeside, and remembered how strange she thought the poem was at the time. Now, Li-Young Lee’s “Braiding” finally made sense.

  Addy had held it together for the past five days. She hadn’t cried once after they’d left the hospital, paralyzed in strength for Kenzie. But as the host read the poem in his soothing voice, she felt the saltwater slip down her cheeks and pool at the corners of her mouth.

  Addy let out a quiet sob. Kenzie squeezed her arm gently, and a burst of heat warmed her to the bone from her other side. She felt Jack before she saw him—he didn’t have to say anything.

  The host continued reading the poem.

  Jack took her hand that wasn’t intertwined with Kenzie’s. His heat, his presence, pushed her over the edge. Finally, Addy felt that she didn’t have to carry the burden alone, to be strong enough for both her and Kenzie.

  She let the tears fall freely, turned to Jack and buried herself in his dark suit jacket.

  Addy hadn’t even faltered when Kenzie had reached for her car keys. She pushed them into her sister’s hands and trusted she would be surrounded by throngs of people who hoisted homemade casseroles at her.

  For Addy, the post-funeral feast at home wasn’t possible. She’d given up all she could.

  Her father was gone. What did it matter if she made small talk between bites of egg salad sandwiches?

  Jack drove them back to the condo in silence. His hand rested on her thigh, loving without the raw sexuality that had bound them together for the past few weeks.

  When she walked inside his condo, it felt right. It felt like coming home. And that was what made it so hard.

  “We can’t be together,” she said as he came up from behind and wrapped his arms around her.

  “I think it’s best to not make any serious plans one way or the other at the moment,” Jack murmured in her ear.

  “I’m serious, Jack,” she turned around. “It’s got nothing to do with… today.”

  “Then what is it?”

  “It’s us! You, you’re a world traveler. An adventure junkie. And I’m so not.”

  “So what?” he asked. “If I wanted to date myself—”

  “So I can’t hold you back from that. I won’t.”

  “Addy.” He took her chin in his hand and tipped her head up. She’d kicked off Kenzie’s insane heels as soon as she walked through the door. Barefoot, she felt tiny and safe in his arms. “You’re a world traveler, too.”

  “Jack, be serious—”

  “You are. You just don’t know it yet.”

  “I can’t—”

  “You can. I asked you once what was keeping you here, remember? It was the restaurant, your dad, Kenzie. If it’s the restaurant you were worried about, guess what? You don’t owe anything to anyone. Sell it, give it to Kenzie if she wants it, it’s not your responsibility anymore.”

  “And neither is my dad,” she said bluntly.

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “But you were thinking it.”

  “So what if I was? It’s true. And Kenzie’s a big girl. She’ll figure it out. She needs to stumble without you there to catch her if she’s going to grow up.”

 
“Yeah,” Addy said slowly. “I know.”

  “If you know, then say yes.”

  “Yes to what?” she asked. Addy probed his eyes with hers.

  “To the future.”

  “I don’t know. You’re not just an adrenaline junkie. You’re hardcore, beyond anything I’ve seen before. The money doesn’t help,” she said pointedly.

  “Okay, you got me there. If this adventure stuff really bothers you, I’ll try to tone it down. I can’t make any promises, but I’ll try. And that’s something, isn’t it?”

  “Yeah,” she said, tearing up. “That’s something.”

  “Come here,” he said, wrapping her in his arms. “I love you. You do know that, don’t you?”

  “And I love you. I really, honestly do,” she sighed. “Even today, when I’m overwhelmed with grief. Even when you make me mad.”

  “I’ll repeat myself, then. Just say yes. That’s all you have to do.”

  He stared down at her, his eyes shining with sincerity. She looked up at him for a long moment, then nodded.

  “Yes.”

  And that was all she had to say. He pressed his lips to hers, and she kissed him back.

  Tomorrow, or the next day, they would strip each other down and do unspeakable things. But today she was content to have said the words, just to let him hold her. Today, it was enough.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  A small pang tugged at her heart as she packed up the last of their dad’s belongings. Kenzie dropped the box she’d been working on in a huff.

  “Ugh, how could Mom and Dad have so much stuff? It didn’t seem like it at the time.”

  “I guess that’s the thing about lives. They accumulate so steadily, you don’t even see it happening.”

  Addy ran her finger across the framed photo of the four of them at Disneyland when Kenzie was just three years old. Addy clutched a massive cotton candy. Their parents grinned at the camera, each in a pair of mouse ears.

  “I can’t believe it’s been a month,” Kenzie said. “It still seems weird, but also kind of normal. You know what I mean?”

  “I know what you mean.”

  “And I’m not gonna lie, I thought I’d be kind of sad when the Goodwill people hauled away his recliner but I was so relieved. That thing stunk.”