| |
The next day started off boring. Two of my brothers were gone, doing something with their friends. Tadd was sprawled out on the couch, watching a daytime TV program. The minute I stepped out from the hall, he sensed my presence and started in barking orders.
“Get me a drink. One of those Shastas.”
I rolled my eyes and got him the can of soda. My body language was so loud that it must have been hard not to notice how irritated I was. He ignored me, though. I decided to get out of there before he demanded anything else.
I ate my cereal, showered, dressed, and took off. As I was on my way out, he asked where I was going—technically, he was my babysitter—and I answered, “Jax’s house.”
“Just be home by twelve for lunch. Mom will kill me if I don’t make sure you eat something.”
When I got to Jax’s house, he wasn’t home. I went to Gary’s next and found it just as empty. Then I remembered they’d both told me about family vacations coming up. I remembered being upset because they would both be gone at the same time. I hadn’t paid attention to the dates, but clearly it was that week.
The new girl was with Morgan again. They were sitting on Morgan’s front steps, looking my way. I moved my eyes in the opposite direction. A small voice crept up and dared me to walk over there and talk to her. Maybe I could pass the time with them?
I immediately shot down that idea. I wasn’t brave enough yet. I was still too nervous to talk to girls.
I did have some loose change in my pocket, enough to buy a couple of treats at Pederson’s—at least a few Zotz and some root beer barrels. Those were my favorite hard candy. If anything, the trip to the store would kill the time, which was crawling by like a snail, and the air conditioning inside would help me cool off from the immense heat.
The air conditioning hit my hot face the moment I stepped into the pharmacy, and I pictured steam rising from my body. The store was bustling with patrons, mostly women with their small children, pushing carts up and down the aisles. I hit the magazine rack before the candy aisle. I flipped through the latest MAD Magazine, which was always good for sarcastic humor and parodies of the latest films. Then I thumbed through the paperback books. I loved reading, and Louis L’Amour westerns were my favorite. My grandpa’s favorite too. He had stacks of them in his basement, and he would lend them to me a couple at a time.
“Ret?” said a deep voice filled with kindness.
I turned around to face Mr. Beaumont. He was extremely tall, always in a suit, and in his late seventies. He placed a gentle hand on my shoulder, and his large fingers covered it completely. He bent down to my eye level. His dark eyes sparkled with the same joy reflected in his smile, something he always had when he talked to me. I knew him from church. Mr. Beaumont and his wife had taught my Sunday school class for a couple of years, and they were always friendly and kind.
“Nice to see you, son.”
“Nice to see you too, Mr. Beaumont.”
“How’s the family? You always look so sharp in church. You do a good job passing the sacrament.”
I nodded. “We’re good. Thanks.”
“That is good. I’m glad to hear it.” He looked at me with admiration. “How’s your dad?”
“Good.” I nodded.
“He still cuttin’ meat? He butchered a deer for me a couple of years ago. Best butcherin’ I ever got.”
I wanted to roll my eyes. Every time I talked to Mr. Beaumont, which was usually at church, he always brought up my dad and how he’d cut up that deer of his.
“I think so. He works two jobs right now. One at Happy Service Groceries and one for the state. I don’t see him a whole lot.”
“No, I bet you don’t. I’m sure neither of ya like that. Where’s your friends?” He checked up and down the aisle. “You here alone?”
“Yeah. They’re gone on vacation. I’m just bored, trying to find somethin’ to do.”
“Summers are like that, aren’t they?” He rubbed his chin with his forefinger, wheels turned in his head, and he looked down at me. “You know, I could use some help out at the mortuary from time to time. Tidying up stuff. You know, dusting and vacuuming, and cleanin’ the restrooms. That sort of thing. Couldn’t take more’n a couple hours a day.”
Great! Work detail. Charity work, I thought with dread.
“I’d pay you five bucks each time. Maybe more, if it takes longer.”
My eyes widened, and my heart beat faster. I thought of all the things my money could buy—more Star Wars figures, cool accessories for my bike, and firecrackers when the Fourth of July rolled around.
“Yeah, that, uh, yes. I’d like to.” The mortuary didn’t sound like an ideal summer job, but if there was money to be had, I could overlook the circumstances.
“Good.” He chuckled. “I’m getting too old. It’s harder for me to do everything, so I could use the help. Just be sure you ask your parents. Get their permission, and I’ll see you at nine in the morning tomorrow. Sound good?”
“Sounds great!”
We shook hands and said goodbye, then he walked to the checkout stands to pay for the few items he was holding.
Wow! A job! Working for Mr. Beaumont would be better than the occasional babysitting detail, which I’d done for the Reynolds kids. They paid me five bucks, but I had to stay there for four hours and deal with rug rats. The mortuary would be much better, maybe even better than Jeff’s job at the stables. Not to mention it would keep me busy while my friends were out of town.
I went to the candy aisle to get my goods, but I couldn’t think of anything else but the job. As I searched for Zotz, I heard Mr. Beaumont’s deep voice as he spoke to the clerk at the register.
“Looks like I’m getting all sorts of new help today,” he said. “I hired a new assistant.”
I lit up because I thought he was referring to me, but then he continued, “Comes from Wichita, Kansas. Lester Kilborn. He moved into that old house on Beck Street.”
A shiver went through my spine, and hairs rose on my arms and neck. I couldn’t quite hear the clerk’s response—his voice wasn’t as loud as Mr. Beaumont’s, so I crept closer to the cash register to hear the conversation better.
“Who would move into that creepy old place?” the clerk asked.
“Good people see beyond the face of things. Lester’s good people, and he sees something in that house. Even said it feels like home.”
“Does he plan on fixin’ it up, I hope?” the clerk said.
“I reckon. Needs a good amount a work. Lester’s young, and he can do it if anyone can. Came highly recommended from the mortuary he worked at in Kansas.”
“What brought him out here?” I asked, interrupting their conversation.
Mr. Beaumont turned to respond. “Well, said his grandpa passed and left that house to him in a will.” He shrugged. “Might have family out here too, I suppose. Anyway, you’ll meet him tomorrow. You’ll be workin’ together.” His smile spread from ear to ear, creating waves of wrinkles.
***
THE NEXT DAY CAME FAST. My parents were okay with my new job. In fact, they were more excited for it than I was. My excitement had been short-lived. Once I’d found out who my workmate was, I couldn’t stop stressing about it, and I wished my friends were around to blab to.
My mom also said it was okay to ride my bike to work since it was farther than Pederson’s, as long as I promised to be safe and stay off the road. Of course I’d agreed.
I leaned my bike against the brick wall of the building and stepped inside. The mortuary was old. It’d been there since the early sixties, and the furniture and décor looked like they hadn’t changed much since then. Heavy gold drapes hung over the windows, yellow shag carpet covered the floor from wall to wall, and the furniture was boxy and stiff. The air was thick and warm. No one was around. It took nearly five minutes for someone to show, and thankfully, it was Mr. Beaumont.
He trotted to me in a hurry, with his hand held out. I took his hand in mine and nearly pulled it back. His hand was ice-cold.
“Sorry for my cold hand. I’ve been in the basement.”
Basement? What goes on in the basement? I didn’t want to know.
“You’re right on time. That’s good. You McCoy boys are always sharp.” He smiled.
Another figure approached behind Mr. Beaumont, and he turned to introduce us.
“Mr. Kilborn!” Beaumont called out, waving him over.
Lester was almost a whole head shorter than Mr. Beaumont, but he was still tall compared to most men. His body was shaped like a pear, with a wide belly and hips, then his legs narrowed to thin ankles. His eyes weren’t as beady as I’d thought, though. They were round, but he always kept them half closed, like he was tired and ready to fall asleep.
“This is Mr. McCoy!” Beaumont motioned for me to come closer.
Mr. Kilborn pushed the bangs out of his eyes and shot his hand out. I shook it. His hand wasn’t as cold as Beaumont’s, but his shake was limp, and his palm was wet.
“Call me Lester.”
“Call me Ret.”
“Great! We’re goin’ to make a great team, fellas!”
I didn’t see Lester the rest of the day, and I was glad. Mr. Beaumont showed me where the cleaning supplies were in the basement then gave me a brief rundown of my tasks, and I went at it.
I ran a vacuum across all the carpeted floors, including the viewing room, where a coffin sat with a dead body inside. Beaumont was preparing for a service later that day.
I’d only seen one dead body—my great-grandmother. She’d looked peaceful, but different than she had when she was alive. It hadn’t been as creepy as I’d thought, but I tried not to look at the body in the casket.
As I vacuumed the room, curiosity finally got the best of me, and I peeked over the edge of the coffin twice. The man was lying in a suit, hands crossed over his chest and eyes closed. His skin was painted with more makeup and rouge than any living man would wear.
I continued to peek over my shoulder to be sure the corpse didn’t exit his coffin and stumble after me. He didn’t. I survived.
I vaccumed and dusted each room, including the chapel and foyers, and cleaned the men’s and women’s restrooms. It took me two and a half hours, and Mr. Beaumont was better than his word and gave me seven dollars. I was elated.
He asked me to come back the next day to polish the furniture and some more detailed work, then he handed me a key to the facility. I couldn’t believe it. He trusted me with a key!
“I trust you more than I’d trust anybody.” He smiled, his hand on my shoulder.
I thanked him a hundred times, said goodbye, and left. I bought a cheeseburger and fries from the burger joint across the street then rode home with a full belly, satisfied about putting in a good day’s worth of work. I slumped on our couch and watched useless TV the rest of the day. Suddenly, I realized why my parents liked doing the same when they got home. One has to decompress.