The Cool Room by Clifford Beck - HTML preview

Chapter 9

Four years went by far too soon, and Emily, graduating at the top of her class, found herself looking for work. At the end of her third year, she began investigating the job market and found that most funeral homes were owned and operated by families, a tradition going back generations. What she needed was a break, but having sent out at least one hundred resumes across the state of New York, she received very few calls. However, the one call that held the most promise came from Frank. He understood that new graduates have to start somewhere, and the idea that one needs experience to get a job but has to have a job to get experience was ridiculous. An interview was set up, and Emily prepared herself for what could be the beginning of a lifelong career.

Dressed as the professional she hoped to become, Emily rang the bell of Frank’s Funeral Home and was shortly met by its owner.

“Emily,” Frank said. “C’mon in, I’ve been looking forward to meeting you.”

Leading her through the Victorian-styled interior, he escorted Emily to his office. Being especially observant, she was struck by the beauty of the viewing rooms, harking back to earlier days when velvet embroidery was commonplace. It was a sight she had only seen in textbooks. Now, she found herself strolling through what one might refer to as a thanotologist’s museum. As she walked into Frank’s office, Emily took notice of the framed pictures randomly placed on the walls. Slowing her pace, she recognized them as post-mortem photography, a practice common in the Victorian Era. The photographer would be called to the home of the family whose loved one had either died or was in the act of passing. The body would be dressed and posed – sometimes using iron hardware as a means of putting the deceased in a standing position. Acquiring a lifelike appearance was critical, and on occasion, the final image would receive a bit of color. Emily was more than familiar with their history but had never seen authentic images.

“Are these printed on paper or metal plates?” she asked.

Being a collector, Frank responded immediately. “Some were printed on paper and some on tin,” he replied. “I guess it depended on what the photographer could afford.”

His answer made perfect sense. Economics is always the driving force behind any business. Frank directed her to a heavily upholstered chair as her mind became obsessed with one thought. “I could get used to working in a place like this.” Sitting behind his desk, Frank picked up her resume and, taking only a few moments to study it, noticed it lacked experience save for a semester-long independent study in Albany’s city morgue. “So,” he began. “What did you think of Albany’s morgue?”

Albany wasn’t exactly a small town, and with one hundred thousand residents, death comes in many varieties. With crime being the leading cause of death, Emily had the advantage of witnessing the myriad ways that people die – from gunshots, stabbings and car accidents to natural causes – those who passed anonymously in their homes. Emily certainly had not seen all the ways in which people met their maker, but had been exposed to enough of death’s eternal slumber that she felt prepared for her career.

“Well,” she began. “There’s certainly a lot of variety.”

Frank sat back in his chair as its leather upholstery crackled with the slightest movement. “And you were able to handle this?” he asked. “I mean, people die in all kinds of ways, right?” Bringing his interlaced fingers to his chin, he posed one more question – one that would tell him if Emily was truly cut out for the job. “Tell me,” he continued. “While you were at Albany, what do you think was the worst case you saw?”

Emily was not expecting such a question, but she quickly surmised that working in the funeral business meant seeing some pretty graphic things, and it only took moments for her to respond. “Well,” she began. “If I had to narrow it down to one, it would have to be a suicide.” Frank listened intently as she described the case in detail.

“The police showed up with the ambulance as they rolled this guy in, who shot himself under the chin with a twelve gauge. They always let me read the reports, so I got to learn a lot about what they considered rare deaths. Anyway, when they unzipped the bag, the damage was pretty graphic. When the shotgun went off, the blast caused his head to open like a flower. According to the report, his brain was ejected intact and flew across the room. I know I’m supposed to be objective, but I’d rather not see anything like that again.” What she wasn’t telling Frank was that her one weakness was the smell of decomposition – especially in its advanced stage, when the body’s skin begins to slough off. But rather than expose this weakness, she chose to disguise it by applying menthol under her nose, thereby masking the odor of decay.

Frank understood that everyone has their limits, and no one is completely immune to the sight of death. He believed that the human body was simply a vessel, a container for the individual it carried throughout its existence. But when trauma is introduced, that vessel can shatter as easily as one that holds the most beautiful flowers. For Frank, his weakness was a child’s traumatic death. Preparing the body of a child was depressing enough, but when a child ended up on his table in a state of dismemberment, the effect on him was more than profound. It was something he would never completely recover from – compounded by the pain he witnessed as he stood near the families at the viewing. He always made it a point to complete his work to artistic perfection, to achieve the appearance of sleep, no matter how graphic their demise was. But children required something more—a greater degree of attention that tested not only his skills but his ability to keep his emotions in check. Frank knew that if he failed to hold himself together, his career would soon be over. More than anything else, he wanted to know if Emily could attain a similar degree of emotional distance. Graduating near the top of her class was certainly admirable, but it was not enough to be technically skilled. One needed a strong aptitude for emotional self-control, and this was at the center of Emily’s interview.