“Well,” I say, excited by the prospect, “What if we take them out? Replace them with some stained glass?”
His lips purse and he nods, but not in a permissive way, more like he’s mulling it over. “I like it,” he finally announces. “But you’ll have to run it by the boss.”
“Whitney?” I lose a little steam with the question, positive she’ll shut the idea down for no other reason than my being the one to come up with it.
“He means me,” the modern-day Wednesday Addams announces. “I just told you, he’s groomin’ me to run the place.” Her head shakes. “Don’t you listen?”
Of course, the six-year-old is in charge.
I look to the man who’s signing my checks, waiting for his nod of approval before posing the question once again. “Well, what’d’ya say, Miss Priss?”
“Let’s do it.” She pumps her little fist into the air.
“Really?” Well, that was easy enough.
“As long as,” she adds, “no biblical scenes are depicted.”
“Okay…” I drawl, half shocked by the child’s vocabulary. “I think we can make that happen.”
“I mean, I got nothin’ against Jesus and the Bible, being Catholic myself, but we get people from all walks of life, you know? Jews and even some atheists.” She looks to her Paw-Paw for his consent.
“That’s very nice of you to consider everyone’s feelings, my girl. Paw’s proud of ya.”
She beams, obviously very pleased with his praise. “A funeral is not the time to have anyone feelin’ judged or like they don’t belong.”
“All right then,” Hank says, scruffing the top of Prissy’s ponytail. “Abstract it is…now get your little tail upstairs with Maw-Maw and get that homework done. I’m gonna need my favorite assistant in a couple hours.”
Once they’ve both departed, I decide to wrap up for the day and start fresh in the morning. I’ve just coiled the last of my extension cords when I hear a commotion on the other end of the wall I share with Whitney’s office.
“What the hell are you talkin’ about, Nelly?” an enraged old man shouts. “We agreed on side-by-side drawers, now yer just changin’ shit up without discussin’ it with me first?”
“It’s my body, and therefore my choice,” a woman snaps back.
“Mr. Neal,” Whitney calls, her voice a soothing balm. “Why don’t we just hear her out before working ourselves up for no good reason?”
He groans with such force that it vibrates the ear I have plastered to the unfinished drywall.
“Now, Mrs. Nelly…go on ahead and explain your wishes.”
“Well, I’d love to if that old…son of a gun would just shut up for two damn minutes.”
What’s happening in that room puts any reality TV I’ve seen to shame. Forget following around the younger generation. Geriatric reality shows are the way of the future. This shit right here’s an untapped goldmine.
“I need a damn cigarette,” he growls.
“Well, as you both know, I’ve recently been diagnosed with bladder cancer. And while I’m doing the treatments and in all likelihood will be more than fine for a while yet, it just got me thinking that I could go first…and what I’d want should that happen.”
“Damn it all to hell.” The pain he’s masking behind his sour demeaner is palpable—I feel the ache bone deep.
“You said you was gonna let me speak. For God’s sake, stop being so dramatic… I ain’t planning on going tomorrow. Anyway…in light of our new circumstances, I’d like to be cremated—”
“No way in hell I’m lettin’ ’em burn you,” he interjects.
“I’d like to be cremated,” she says a little louder, “and placed in the most gaudy, ornate urn available.”
“What about the second coming of Christ, Nell? How you gonna rise with no damn body?”
“I understand your concerns, Mr. Neal.” There Whitney goes again, controlling the chaos with expert skill and the patience of a saint.
“Listen, priorities change when you’re facing your own mortality, and that’s just not my biggest concern at the moment.”
“What could be more concerning than makin’ sure you’re right with the Lord?”
“I’m getting to it if you’ll let me speak…”
“This is a buncha cockamamie bullshit, that’s what it is.” The sound of a chair screeching on tile has me jerking back with a start. I can just imagine him leaping to his feet and throwing it back in his frustration.
“My wish is to be placed dead center of the mantle…where his next lover will have to pick me up and dust me. My wish is not to be forgotten.”
It’s so quiet in that room you could hear a pin drop. I’m literally holding my breath.
“You’re so stupid. God love ya, woman. There won’t be nobody else. I’d end up carrying ya around with me, lookin’ like a total fool the rest of my life. That’s what’d happen.”
“A man has needs, Neal. I ain’t stupid enough to believe you won’t be finding someone to soothe ’em.”
“Hell woman, I got needs now you haven’t tended in going on five years!”
“Let me take you to dinner,” I say, startling Whitney clean out of her shoes when I approach just as she finishes locking up her office for the day.
“Uhh,” she says, looking around. “You talkin’ to me?”
“Don’t see anyone else.”
“Thanks, but I’ll pass.”
I brace a hand on the wall above her head, to keep her from running off. “Why not?”
She takes her time, worrying her lips like she’s wrestling with some internal demons. “I just don’t want to.” Nothing about the energy she’s giving off agrees with that statement.
I hang my head and give it a little shake. “You really were just using me?”
“What?” Her muffled laughter is almost as sexy as that smile she’s fighting so hard to hide.
“For my body.”
She gives my chest a little shove, moving me out of her way. “Have you lost your mind?”
“One date?” I press.
“Listen,” she says, using the same tone she used with that irate man less than an hour ago, “it’s not you.”
“Ohh,” I groan, grabbing at my chest. “And the hits just keep on coming.”
“I have a daughter.”
“I’m aware.”
“I have responsibilities you wouldn’t understand.”
“It’s one date. You don’t even have to tell her if you don’t want to.”
“And one date’ll turn into two and maybe even three. Then come the awkward glances.”
“Pretty sure we’ve already mastered that part,” I interrupt.
She sighs. “Eventually you’ll get over the whole single mom gig and start seeing someone else, and break my child’s heart in the process, because she already thinks you walk on water all thanks to that damn dog of yours.”