Chapter 2: Chapter 2

But his first text reply to Molly shows his inexperience. If he bothered to think it through, he would’ve removed me from the group before sending the message, because the last thing most interns want their boss to read is a childish complaint. Do I have to go?

When Molly didn’t write back, Taylor followed this up with a message I’m sure he thought better explained his position. We open in an hour. Henry can take it then, right?

What a lazy ass.As I try to think of a way to respond that shows my disappointment and anger in plain text without resorting to all caps or those stupid emoji things, Molly sends a longer message that says exactly what I’m looking for. She’s been at this longer than I have, and I grin as I read her reply.

Yes, you have to go. Someone has DIED, and it is OUR responsibility to attend to that person and their family in their time of need. You have to go when it’s pouring rain outside, or when it’s snowing so bad you can’t see the road in front of you, or when you’re tired or hungover or drunk. YOU HAVE TO GO. This is your job, and if you don’t like it, then you can hand in your resignation by noon today. I’m sure Mr. Eckert will be happy to accept it, since you’ve copied him on these messages.

Silence.

Just when I think Taylor won’t bother responding—in my mind’s eye I see him grumbling as he rolls out of bed, slouching for the dark suit and tie in his closet that’s practically a uniform when we go on a removal—another text comes in. Taylor, bitching again, of course. What a whiny little ass.

Don’t home removals require two?

I’m sure he thinks he’s being slick, waiting for Molly to come back telling him he can wait for Henry after all. Henry’s the oldest employee we have—hell, he’s worked at Eckert’s back when the name referred to my father and not me. He’s a big, burly man in his late sixties who can still manhandle a loaded casket by himself if he has to. He outweighs Taylor by a good hundred pounds, almost all of it muscle.

If hesaw these texts, he would’ve torn Taylor a new one. Molly’s scathing reply is a gentle reprimand compared to what I’ve heard Henry yell at interns in the past. The man’s ex-military, after all. The Army taught him all he learned about mortuary science in the first place.

But Henry doesn’t text. He has a cell phone, of course—who doesn’t, in this day and age? It isn’t a smartphone, though, and he doesn’t know how to send or reply to text messages. When Molly has a removal for him to pick up, regardless of the time, day or night, she has to call him with the details. Taylor knows this, and will use it as an excuse not to go on this removal right away, instead waiting after eight o’clock so he can slough it off onto Henry completely.

We’ll see about that.

Quickly I type a text to the group: 233 Lakeside’s close to me. I’ll meet you for the removal. Be there in ten.

After I hit the send button, I realize I’m still in my PJs, and there’s Riley to think about, too. I’ll have to drop her off at Mrs. Duran’s earlier than normal, which shouldn’t be a problem. Mrs. Duran’s known my family for years—she was my first grade teacher, actually, and her son Derek used to be my best friend back when we were in school together. But he moved out of Ashbury after high school, moved out of Virginia altogether, and managed to hit it big with one Top 40 pop song they still sometimes play on the radio station during oldies’ weekends.

Derek, God…I haven’t thought of him in years. Mrs. Duran’s retired now, but she watches Riley when I’m at work. I usually drop her off in the mornings so she can catch the school bus in front of Mrs. Duran’s house, and I pick her up when the funeral parlor closes at five. If I get a call after hours, I leave Riley at Mrs. Duran’s on the way.

“Oh, it’s no bother,” Mrs. Duran told me once, when I asked if she was sureit wasn’t a problem dropping Riley off when a call came in shortly after midnight. “It gets lonely here anymore, now that Walter’s passed and who knows where Derek is anymore. I’m just happy for the company.”

Two of my ten minutes are gone, and I’m still not dressed. Hurriedly I gulp down the rest of my coffee, ignoring the hot liquid as it scalds my tongue and throat. I scoop up Riley’s bowl and cup and take them into the kitchen with my mug. No time now to fuss at her about them. I’ll deal with that later.

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