Same Old Truths (5 page)

Ruth listened intently, a little disappointed there wasn’t more to the story. Anyway, it was pretty apparent Kay didn’t need an opinion as much as encouragement and inspiration. Little did Kay know Ruth was just the person to give her both.

“Well, it’s easy to see why he still rattles you,” Ruth began. “From what you’ve told me, your divorce was still fresh when he moved away. It only stands to reason things between the two of you would be suspended in time. Now he’s back and you’re right back where you left off. But you have to remember he thinks he’s dealing with the Kay he knew seven years ago. I mean, why else would he have the balls - excuse the expression - to ask you to agree to such an outrageous proposal?”

Kay could feel herself tearing up, grateful for Ruth’s savvy insight into her situation. She also thought it was cute Ruth felt the need to apologize for saying “balls.”

“You’re right,” Kay sniffed. “I hadn’t thought about it that way, but it makes perfect sense.”

Ruth pulled a couple of tissues from the box sitting on the coffee table, handed them to Kay and continued. “From where I’m sitting it’s clear you really do have the upper hand. He knows it, but he’s counting on you
not
knowing it. That’s why it’s so important you make that crystal clear when you talk to him.”

Kay nodded in agreement. “The thing is, though, I feel confident sitting here talking to you, but I’m afraid it’s gonna evaporate the second I hear his voice.” Kay hoped her display of irrational fear wouldn’t cause Ruth to lose respect for her.

“Well then, we’ll have to make sure that doesn’t happen.” Ruth’s tone was maternal and reassuring.

Kay was definitely intrigued. She was just about to ask how Ruth was going to help rescue her from herself, when two elaborate standing floral sprays with legs walked through the front door, stopped and spoke. “Campbell?” came the question from a deep voice hidden behind the profusion of flowers.

“Main chapel,” Ruth said pointing to the room where Herbert Campbell was currently lying in state.

“Send my guy in there, will you? He’s got the casket spray,” he said over his shoulder as he headed for the chapel.

Ruth stood up. “I’d better go help these gentlemen get situated and then we can continue our little talk. They tend to be a careless with how they set the flowers and it really upsets Ed.” She waited for the delivery man’s helper and signaled for him to follow her. The two disappeared into the scented cloud left behind by roses and lilies.

Kay smiled to herself. She was proud to work in a business where attention to detail was so important. Flower arrangements were one small part of that attention. Part of Kay’s training had been learning the important role flowers played as visible expressions of condolence sent by well-wishers. As such, it mattered how they were displayed. Mortuary staff and flowers, alike, were put through their paces moving from chapel, to church, to graveside - each location requiring an entirely new setup. Before the flowers left the mortuary, it was Kay’s job to collect and save every card accompanying each flower arrangement and/or potted plant. They were then presented to the family for proper acknowledgment at a later time - a necessary detail that could be easily overlooked during all the activity surrounding the funeral.

Kay felt stupid sitting all by herself watching the florist’s assistant going in and out to retrieve his delivery van’s payload of sympathy; she decided to follow Ruth and see if she could lend a hand. Anything to quickly get them back to their conversation.

Kay couldn’t get over how Ruth seemed to really get it, and didn’t make her feel foolish for making such a big, dramatic deal about everything. Kay was confident the older woman’s advice was going to give her the boost she needed to deal with Dave.

Ruth dismissed Kay’s offer of help with a wave of her hand; she just stood back and watched the two men rolling their eyes at each other as Ruth corrected and adjusted every one of their unacceptable placements.

The assistant delivery man spotted Kay, walked over and asked, “What’s that thing?” pointing to a sheer, netted covering draped over the lid and opening of the casket, making it difficult to get a clear view of Mr. Campbell’s body.

“It’s a casket veil,” Ruth responded before Kay had a chance to tell him she didn’t know. She had never seen one before. “It’s put there to discourage people from touching the deceased.” She continued fussing with the various flower pots and vases.

“Oh,” said the man, apparently not requiring any further explanation.

Ruth stood back and took one last assessment of the display. With a sigh of satisfaction, she turned and said, “Thank you, gentlemen.” Arms outstretched she herded them toward the door. “I’ll be sure to let Mr. Salinger know how helpful you were.”

The two men shrugged, murmured “thanks” and quickly made their exit.

Kay was puzzled, but curious about the reason for obscuring Mr. Campbell’s appearance with the gauzy cover. “Ruth, I don’t understand. How is the family supposed to see Mr. Campbell through that thing?”

Ruth gave Kay a knowing smile, took her by the elbow. “Here. Stand in this spot. I’m about to dazzle you with a bit of old-school mortuary show biz magic.”

Ruth lightly patted Kay on the back before walking over to a pair of heavy, light-blue velvet drapes hanging on the wall a few feet from the foot of the casket. She pulled back one of the drapes, secured it with a tie-back mounted on the wall and disappeared through the opening to the tiny alcove that housed the mortuary’s dual keyboard Wurlitzer organ.

Kay tried to imagine what kind “magic” Ruth could possibly perform.

Maybe she’s going to bring Mr. Campbell back to life with the Light My Fire organ riff.

But instead of hearing Ray Manzarek’s iconic rock intro wafting out from the little organ room, a bone-rattling “clank” shot through the opening in the drapes, followed by a tentative illumination of a row of lights hidden behind the soffit on the chapel ceiling.

“Are you ok?” Kay called to Ruth.

“I’m fine. Just stand there and watch.”

Kay did as she was told and was rewarded with a jaw-dropping display as the overhead lighting was brought up high, then brought down low, then raised again, finally settling on a medium, soft glow. As if by magic, the casket veil seemed to disappear and Mr. Campbell’s body came into distinct focus.

After a few more minor adjustments, Ruth walked out to the check the results of her handiwork. “I’ve still got it!” she boasted with pride.

“Wow, that’s impressive. But I still don’t understand what it’s all about.”

“It’s an old stage lighting technique used for preparing severely damaged bodies for viewing,” Ruth said. “Mr. Campbell was thrown from his truck and his face took the brunt of the impact.”

Kay inched up closer to the casket to take a better look. She had never seen a case as serious as Mr. Campbell. Now she could see the heavier-than-normal layer of makeup and restorative wax Mr. Campbell had been repaired with; Ed had applied it so expertly it was almost impossible to detect any evidence of the massive cuts and abrasions Mr. Campbell had sustained in the accident.

“But wouldn’t it be easier to have a closed casket?” Kay asked, assuming the obvious alternative. “You have to admit all those cosmetics make him look less than natural.”

“We gave the family that option but they still requested an open casket. And, to the extent we’re able, we like to honor our families’ requests. Thus, the reason for the stagecraft. All it takes is a little direct and dispersed lighting, bounced off a light-pink ceiling with the casket veil acting as a scrim and the family can remember Mr. Campbell intact, rather than road kill.” Kay was shocked by Ruth’s irreverence.

Ruth walked back to the organ alcove with Kay close behind.

“Here’s our little magic maker,” Ruth said, pointing to a peculiar round, black-enameled, metal apparatus mounted on the wall above the organ. Kay thought it looked like a car wheel missing its tire. A long metal bar was attached at the center of the “wheel” with a black wooden handle on one end and a small, hammerhead-looking thing on the other.

Maybe that’s the jack.

“This is one of the first electric light rheostats ever made.” Ruth grabbed the black wooden handle and turned it, causing the lights in the chapel to change.

“Ed’s grandfather was an amateur actor and saw one of these used in a production he was appearing in. Being the forward thinker that he was, he instantly saw the benefit of using it to help “stage” our deceased clients.”

Ruth went on to explain to Kay how old man Salinger had learned everything he could about lighting techniques and then taught them to everyone who worked at the mortuary.

“I learned from Lorri,” Ruth said. Kay could tell the woman was proud of being a part of this morbid showbiz tradition.

Ruth dialed the rheostat back to its ideal setting before turning off all the lights. She freed the drape from the tie-back allowing it to swing back into place, once again, concealing its theatrical secrets.

“C’mon,” Ruth beckoned to Kay as she headed for her office. “As I recall, I was just about to give you the solution to your problem with your ex-husband when we got interrupted.”

5

With a Little Help from My Friend

“Hello, this is Kay Manning, calling for Dave Noland, if he’s available,” Kay said, using her best telephone etiquette. She had always hated callers who made you ask, “who’s calling?” and made it her personal crusade to model good phone manners - even when she was calling people she’d rather not talk to.

There was a weird little beat of silence before the receptionist gave Kay a frosty, “Please hold.” A breath of a shiver went down Kay’s spine.

What the hell was that?

Fortunately, the paranoia threatening to overtake her senses was thwarted by the terrible hold music playing on the phone. Even though she would have preferred a silent wait to the elevator music, Kay found herself providing the words to the corny instrumental rendition.

“Cracklin’ Rosie geet on board…”

Thanks to Ruth, there wasn’t a trace of nervousness in her body and she was actually looking forward to having a friendly conversation with her ex.

“Crack-e-lin’ Rose you’re a store-bought woman…”

“Hello, Kay.” Dave broke in right as Kay’s song began its famous crescendo.

“Hey there, Dave,” she said with a startled laugh. “Please excuse my little song, but your hold music is kinda catchy.”

He ignored her merry greeting. “Thanks for getting back to me. There’s something I need to run past you.”

Normally, Kay would have been thrown by his impersonal response to her attempt at being friendly, but not now. Seems nothing could ruin her spirits.

“Let me guess. You’ve knocked the socks off your new boss, he’s given you a big raise and you don’t have to cut my child support after all.” She was trying to kid him into the easy camaraderie that had once come to them so naturally.

She punctuated her silly guess with another giggle but Dave was having none of it. His purpose for calling was simply to get her bank information. Seems he wanted to set up a monthly automatic deposit from his bank to hers, so he wouldn’t have to write and mail a check, as he’d been doing for the last seven years.

The less personal contact the better, right?
Kay wanted to say, but didn’t because it was pointless.
Even the thought of us touching the same piece of paper is too much for him.

But somehow, that didn’t matter.

Isn’t that what Scarlett O’Hara said after Ashley gave her the ole’ heave-ho?

Kay giggled again. She could feel Dave’s annoyance ooze through the phone. But Kay didn’t care. As it was, she had some business of her own to discuss with Dave and the timing was perfect.

Without question or comment she complied with his request and then quickly segued to her own pressing demand.

“I was going to call you myself this afternoon. I have to work a viewing tonight, so you’re going to have to take Cory to therapy.” Her confidence was such she didn’t bother to ask whether or not it was convenient.

Despite her Ruth-inspired boldness she, nevertheless, expected him to put her off until he had the chance to check with his wife. Apparently, since his marriage to Sandy he’d become a new kind of husband, making sure to consult her on even the tiniest of details.

“I tell her
everything
,” he had once declared to Kay, proud to let her know he had turned over a new leaf from his days of lies and deceit.

But much to Kay’s surprise, Dave’s mood made an about face. “Sure. No problem. What time is her appointment?”

She wasn’t expecting this quick eagerness to cooperate and she felt those old “give-the-guy-a-chance” feelings rising to the surface.

I guess Les is right. When it comes to Dave, I am a big pushover.

She was about to lay out the details of his parental assignment when she was interrupted by the loud buzz of his office intercom. “Do you need to get that?” she asked, with polite concern.

“It’s ok. This isn’t going to take long, is it?”

She launched back into her description of the therapist’s address and a suggestion for the easiest way to get there, when the buzzer went off again - this time twice - daring Dave to ignore it.