The Cool Room by Clifford Beck - HTML preview

Chapter 15

Emily arrived between services and was met by both Frank and Jonathan, who appeared in suits and Italian patent leather shoes. Each cut a dashing figure as they, in turn, shook her hand in a gesture of professional welcome. Frank, as the owner of the funeral home, insisted on being first. Gripping her hand with modest pressure, he motioned toward Jonathan with the other.

“Welcome aboard, Emily,” he said. “This is Jonathan. He’s going to be mentoring you for a while. I think you’ll learn a lot from him.” Releasing her from his grip, Emily stepped over to Jonathan, and extending her hand was met by a brief pause as Jonathan took a moment to study her. Working with the dead had somewhat robbed him of interacting with the living, but when the opportunity presented itself, he took a bit of time to study their behavior. Emily’s presence allowed him such an opportunity. Although she was quite attractive, this was certainly not a study of her physique but one of small behavioral cues – the temperature of her skin, the size and reaction of her pupils, and how long it took for her face to flush. Jonathan was a committed to observing the human animal, and his assessments were usually correct. But it was his face that flushed as he caught himself taking too long in his observations. “Sorry,” he said. “I’ve pretty much been working along for the past few years. It’ll be good to finally have someone to work with.”

His well-meaning lie was followed by an extended hand of greeting and met by Emily’s grip. “I’m looking forward to working with you,” she said.

Her response was noticeably mechanical, and glancing at his hand, she noticed the golden glint of his wedding band. Had he been single, Emily would likely have felt a bit put off by his hesitant handshake and momentary scrutiny. But this soon passed, as the necessary greetings came to an end. “Well,” Frank said. “Why don’t you show Emily the cool room? I’m sure she wants to become accustomed to her new workplace as soon as possible.”

Emily broke in with an enthusiastic voice. “I would love to see it,” she said.

Making a brief moment of eye contact with Jonathan, Frank walked off to his office, where several medical examiners reports waited on his desk.

Being as gentlemanly as possible, Jonathan motioned Emily in front of him.

“Right this way,” he said.

As she walked in front of him, an awkward smile appeared on her face. As excited as she was to be starting her first job, she couldn’t help being nervous for the same reason. Most new graduates were usually nervous at the start of their first job as well. But most new graduates didn’t work in the funeral industry. Emily knew the things that deceased bodies sometimes did, but would now get the chance to see them for herself. Her approach was not one of ghoulish desire but of scientific curiosity. This was not just a career for her. It was an ongoing opportunity to witness the goings-on of the human body after life had evacuated itself from its fleshy container. However, her career as a mortuary technician was much more than that. She would be a mechanic of the dead, the artist who would repair and beautify those who had reached the end of their mortality, so others could look upon them and remember the lives they had once lived – to recall them in jest or shed a tear for their loss.

Entering the cool room, Emily wandered around, looking at the instruments she hoped to soon be working with. Making her way to the refrigerator, she turned to Jonathan.

“Any clients in here?” she asked. In any funeral home, there is always someone to work with.

“Actually, yes,” he replied.

Walking over to one of the bottom drawers, he flipped open its latch and opening the door, pulling the steel tray out.

“This client just arrived this morning,” he said. “She came to us from the nursing home next to the hospital. Of course, there’s no trauma, so she’ll need just the usual care.”

He began to push the tray back into the refrigerator when he hesitated. This would be a good opportunity for Emily to begin work. “Hey,” he began. “You want to get started on this client?”

Emily’s eyes lit up as she nervously formed her words.

“Um, I…yeah, absolutely,” she said. Pulling the tray out, Jonathan received assistance from Emily in lifting the body to the mortuary table. Records indicated that her name was Victoria, and she passed at the age of ninety-four. Not much of her life had been recorded in the nursing home’s documents, but her family knew everything about her, and during the eulogy, she conveyed as much as possible to immortalize her life.

After lying the body out on the preparation table, Jonathan began questioning Emily on how to proceed.

“So,” he began. “What do we do first?” The body had already achieved a state of rigor, and looking at her first client, whose remains had become withered by age and illness, she quickly realized what needed to be done.

“The rigor needs to be massaged out,” she replied. A faint smile came to Jonathan’s face as he nodded his head in acknowledgment.

“Good,” he said. “Grab a pair of gloves.” Having already memorized what she had seen in the cool room, she was quick to retrieve a pair of nitrile gloves from a blue and white box sitting within arm’s reach. They were the perfect size, and slipping them on, Emily gently took the descendants forearm and began rubbing the stiffness out of the muscles. Slowly, the arm began to recover the suppleness it once had before becoming the empty vessel they lay in front of her. Jonathan, working on the other side, glanced over and found himself impressed by the progress she was making. “When was the last time you did this?” he asked. Having worked in the Albany city morgue, Emily had the occasional opportunity to practice her developing craft under the guidance of the shift supervisor. She was asked not to talk about it, with concerns regarding policy violations and legal issues. It was a chance she was grateful for, and reflected in the way she had developed her technique – even if it was merely massaging out the stiffness of lifeless limbs.

“They let me do it once in a while at the Albany morgue,” she replied.

Her response caught Jonathan off guard. During his education, he had never considered working in such a place, but knowing what a city the size of Albany produces, he imagined that Emily had seen a great deal.

“The Albany morgue?” he said. “Jesus Christ, what kind of shit did you see there?”

Most of the bodies that rolled in presented nothing out of the ordinary. Yet, on occasion, there would be a suicide or car accident victim. “It was all pretty average,” she answered. “Suicides were the worst. One day, this body came in after some guy shot himself under the chin with a twelve gauge. His head opened up like a flower. The paramedics found his brain intact in a corner on the other side of the room. Thing is, no one heard the shot. His body was found after someone noticed a smell coming from under the door of his apartment. And in spite of how gross it was, it was a great learning experience.”

Jonathan was stunned. He had never seen anything close to that degree of disgust, and as much as he tried, failed to imagine it.

“And you handled that, okay?” he asked. After some hesitation, Emily gave a nonchalant response as she continued to massage her first client’s muscles.

“Yeah,” she replied. “Why wouldn’t I?”

Up until this point, Jonathan saw her as the dainty college graduate who probably would not stay in the industry for more than a year. Working with the dead isn’t for everyone. But hearing Emily’s recollections of her time in the Albany morgue, his impression of her quickly changed. If there was ever a woman who was well-suited for the funeral industry, it was Emily. Not that he felt women shouldn’t enter the field, but the industry was mostly composed of men – those who were seen as being strong enough to deal with the daily sight of tragedy. Emily didn’t seem to see the tragedy inherent in the funeral business but saw it as a science. She seemed fascinated by the process of death and had come to a healthy perspective on the topic. She did not believe in the idea of a ‘dead person’. This was ridiculous. People don’t die, the body does. When the last heartbeat fades into silence, the person within the body moves on, leaving behind the vehicle they had transported themselves in throughout their earthly life. Through one circumstance or another, their body had given up, but what was once contained within was now elsewhere. This was what Emily had accepted as her own truth. Any attempt to consider what lies after gases begin to form was something she tried to avoid thinking about. At this point in her life, she didn’t consider herself ready to ponder such things as God or an afterlife. Leave that to the saints and theologians.

With gloved hands, Emily continued massaging the deceased woman’s limbs, working her way up to the elbow as Jonathan worked on the left hand and fingers. When the joint had finally regained its flaccid tone, she moved back down to the wrist, kneading the muscle – twisting and turning the bones until they also moved freely. Turning the palm up, Emily began rubbing the knuckles and the joints of the fingers when they suddenly curled, wrapping themselves around her hand. In a moment of unexpected fright Emily pulled her hand back and took an instinctive gasp.

“Fuck,” she said.

Although her brief expletive came out in a whisper, Jonathan couldn’t help but let out a soft chuckle at her expense. She had experienced this before but could never shake off the creepy sensation of her fingers being cradled by a cold, lifeless hand. “I’m never going to get used to that,” she continued. Jonathan had experienced it many times but had become accustomed to it and, seeing it as part of the process of preparation, disregarded it whenever it happened. However, seeing Emily’s reaction, he saw fit to tease her and raising up the hand he was working on waved it at her.

“Hello, Emily,” he mimicked. “Do you want to hold hands with me, Emily?”

Emily always enjoyed a good joke and this was no exception. Her face flushed as she smiled playfully. A response was definitely in order. “Oh, screw you,” she said.

Jonathan’s quiet giggle became a bit more pronounced as he tried to recover the quiet dignity typical of the process of preparing the dead. “You have to admit that was funny,” he said. Other remarks came to mind, but for the sake of professionalism Emily restrained herself, keeping those words to herself.

“I can’t believe you did that,” she said. “Just don’t let the boss know,” Jonathan said. “I don’t think either of us needs that kind of trouble.” Emily agreed as they continued the job of loosening the muscles of the recently deceased woman.

After two hours, the woman’s muscles had become supple and flexible. The remains were now ready for the next step in the process of bringing the body into a lifelike appearance. However, Jonathan, still being the mentor, wanted Emily’s opinion. “So,” he said. “What’s next?”

It didn’t take much thought for her to arrive at the correct answer, and provided it without hesitation. “Well,” she began. “There’s no trauma and the body doesn’t have to travel, but it’s still being stored, so embalming should be done to avoid any odor during the service.”

Once again, Jonathan was impressed, but there she had mentioned something that he wanted cleared up.

“What do mean travel?” he asked. In most states, should a body require transport it was, according to state law, required to be embalmed as the fluids within it are seen as hazardous material. In order to prevent leakage, the casket is also placed in a sealed steel container to be opened only at its destination. Emily’s explanation was brief but accurate and furthered Jonathan’s impression of her as someone who had found her calling. Perhaps one day, he thought, she might run her own funeral home. But as she was just starting out in the industry, he knew she had a long way to go before rising to that level. For now, he would work with Emily on the basics, steering her into more advanced aspects of preparation as he saw fit.