The Cool Room by Clifford Beck - HTML preview

Chapter 18

That day saw the usual routine as Emily prepared their new client for embalming. As he had become accustomed to, Jonathan scrutinized Emily’s technique as she made the incisions on the inner thigh of the left leg. The placement of two tubes had to be precise in order to prevent leakage. Exposing the large blood vessels, she inserted the tubes into the side of each. In life, the femoral artery would carry blood away from the heart, while the femoral vein carried blood towards the heart. Should the artery become damaged while the body still lived, death would arrive within barely two minutes – not much time to stave off what was waiting nearby. Now, those vessels would serve a different purpose and once the fluids of preservation began to flow the beginnings of preparation would eventually mimic the life that had once resided within the shell that lay on the steel table. As embalming fluids were pumped into the lifeless body, blood and clots made their way out and down a nearby sink drain. Emily monitored the flow of fluid closely as Jonathan looked on when he noticed something that sometimes happens during the process. However, he chose not to say anything, as he wanted to observe Emily’s reaction. Intending on checking the placement of the tubes, she saw what Jonathan failed to mention.

“Oh, Jesus Christ,” she said.

There it was in all its deceased glory. Any funeral technician will say that it happens with some regularity and the way to deal with it is either to let it fade on its own or make sure that it’s covered at the time of the service. Emily knew these things happened from time-to-time, but this didn’t stop her from being surprised. The explanation was simple. During the process of embalming, a blood clot lodged itself in an artery somewhere in the pelvic floor and caused, for lack of any other word, an erection. Jonathan began giggling at her expense as she stood at a loss of how to minimize the size and firmness of the organ.

“What the fuck are you laughing at?” she asked.

She tried to keep her voice to a whisper so as to maintain some degree of dignity inherent in the practice of working with the dead. Yet, the sight of a deceased penis proudly standing at attention was one Emily could hardly bear and pulling her gloves and garb off headed for the door. “I need a break,” she said.

It wasn’t that she was upset at what she had seen. In fact, it was quite the opposite. Emily, having witnessed what she already knew could happen, was close to laughter and thought it best to retreat to a place where she would not be heard. The cellar seemed the safest place to discharge this hysterical energy while maintaining the quiet respect for the client she would have to return to.

After ten or fifteen minutes, Emily returned to the cool room. Her eyes were red, and her cheeks still damp with tears. Before putting on her protective garb, she washed her face, drying her skin with paper towels from a nearby stack. Turning back to Jonathan, she saw a smirk on his face. He had done nothing with the body as he waited for her return. Yet, there was one thing that had changed in her absence, and Jonathan was quick to point it out. “You done?” he asked.

Still wiping the tears from her eyes, Emily finally caught her breath.

“Yep,” she said. “I think so. I just couldn’t help it. I know it can happen, I’ve just never seen it before. I mean, I’ve seen it, just not a dead one.”

Having said this, she nearly burst out laughing again when Jonathan interrupted her. “Well,” he said. “There’s nothing to laugh about now.”

With his hands on the edge of the table, he leaned forward slightly and looked at Emily as if giving her a silent hint. Being of quick wit, she looked down to find the rigid member had significantly decreased in size and was now as flaccid as one might expect it to be – under the circumstances. “Oh,” she said. “I guess we should move on, right?” Jonathan simply nodded, a smirk still stretched across his face.

“Honestly,” he said. “This is the first time I’ve seen one, too. Well, I mean, you know…” Emily began giggling at what sounded like an expression of masculine uncertainty as she grabbed a surgical towel and covered the genitalia of the deceased.

“Let’s just move on,” she said.

Finally able to suppress her emotions, she checked the placement of the tubes still lodged in the vessels of the client’s leg. Noticing the blood exiting the body had lightened considerably, she checked with Jonathan to determine if it was time to remove them.

“I usually wait until it's clear,” he said. “Maybe about twenty minutes.”

Twenty minutes can be a long time when trying to recover from the sight of the engorged penis of an elderly, deceased man. One just never expects to see these things happen under any circumstances. It’s just too bizarre. But waiting was not an option when there were other things that needed to be done, and Jonathan left Emily to slip the eye caps under the clients’ eyelids and tie the mouth shut. It was only a few weeks ago that Jonathan closed the mouth of someone whose fading nerves caused their jaw to chatter. Not wanting to relive this, he asked Emily to thread the string that would keep the mouth closed. He never let on, but since that event, he had developed a slight fear that it might happen again, and the faster the mouth could be closed, the better.

Having accomplished these things, Emily checked the tubes again and noticed the outflow of blood had been substituted with clear embalming fluid. Looking up at Jonathan, she asked if the tubes could be removed.

“Looks good,” he said. “Do you need some help with the suturing?”

Emily was already preparing the black 4-0 suture, and using two surgical clamps began to remove the first of two tubes.

“I think I got it,” she replied.

Leaning forward, Jonathan watched as she turned off the flow of embalming fluid and, pinching off the blood vessel, quickly pulled the tube out. Clamping off one end of the blood vessel, Emily began suturing both ends together. It was obvious to Jonathan that she had spent a great deal of time practicing, as the sutures were small and tight. This would prevent leakage of embalming during the service. The last thing any family wanted was to deal with the smell of chemicals or the sight of soaked clothing. And Frank certainly wouldn’t put up with it.

Preparation proceeded with coating the skin with a dye that brought a warm tone to the client’s skin. It was only done on the arms, hands, face, neck and chest -- whatever parts of the body that would be exposed during the service. It was at this point that Jonathan extended his invitation.

“Emily,” he began. “I know you’ve just moved into town, so my wife and I were wondering if you’d like to come on over for dinner some time. What do you think?”

Emily was somewhat surprised that such an offer would be made so soon. Usually, a certain degree of familiarity would take place first and typically over the course of a couple of months. But seeing an opportunity to develop her social circle, she accepted without hesitation.

“Sure,” she said. “I’d love to.”

Taking her response a step further, Emily inquired about Jonathan’s wife – just the basics. “So,” she began. “What’s your wife’s name?” Jonathan expected such an inquiry, but instead of waiting for a barrage of questions, he simply provided a brief summary.

“Her name is Iona,” he said. “She’s originally from Romania. We met while I was there on vacation. I wanted to see the countryside, and she offered to act as a guide. She even took me to Dracula’s castle.

We ended up staying a bit too late and had to spend the night there.”

Emily was not only hypnotized, but also a bit jealous that he had actually toured the Romanian countryside. At that moment, Romania had become the top item on her bucket list. But to spend a night in Dracula’s castle. As exciting as it sounded, she wasn’t sure Jonathan was telling the truth. He may have been embellishing.

“You spent a night in Dracula’s castle,” she said. “C’mon, no way.”

He didn’t expect Emily to believe him. Not many people would, but he insisted that his story was true. “Yeah,” he replied. “We managed to start a small fire to keep warm and just snuggled down for the night. And no, there were no ghosts.” Still the skeptic, Emily wondered how she could bring herself to believe such a tale, and studied Jonathan’s face for any cues that he might be fabricating the story. She had no doubt that he had, in fact, gone to Romania and that he had met his wife Iona there but a night at Dracula’s castle? Although a date had not yet been set, perhaps Iona could clear things up when she joined them for dinner. Jonathan glanced up at her as she tried to read his expression and inquired about her doubts. “You think I’m kidding, don’t you?” he asked. With an intense expression, Emily scrutinized him more closely, but soon replied to what she thought was a defensive statement.

“Kidding?” she said. “You’re not good at making things up, are you?”

A smile came to his face, knowing that not many people believed his story, thinking it to be far too dramatic to be taken seriously.

“Tell you what,” he replied. “When you come over, you can ask Iona all about it. She’ll tell you – well, almost everything.”

Now her curiosity peaked. Maybe there was some truth to his story. But if it was true, there was certainly more to the story than what she was being told. Still, the idea of going to Romania appealed to the dark side of her personality, and she continued to ask questions. Apparently, the cost of travel wasn’t that much, and lodgings were quite affordable. All she needed to do was come up with enough money and time off and start planning.