The Cool Room by Clifford Beck - HTML preview

Chapter 48

From behind the closed door of his office, Frank inhaled the four-inch line, feeling its effects setting in, returned the mirror and vial to the desk drawer, and locking it secured the key in the inside pocket of his jacket. A full dose would never again be used as long as Frank stood his ground against temptation. He thought about seeking the assistance of a therapist. Had he known anyone else going through this, he would have readily recommended psychiatric help. So, deciding to take his own advice, he got online and looked up a local therapist. He was about to call their office when the phone rang. It was the nursing home. For some reason, the elderly seem to always die during the night. But this was no matter for Frank. He rarely picked up new clients during the night, as third shift in any health care facility was usually understaffed, and preparing the deceased generally took more time than expected.

With Jonathan and Emily not yet having arrived for work, Frank took it upon himself to drive out to the nursing home himself to pick up the client. Although under the influence of cocaine, Frank found himself driving more slowly than had he been chemical-free. But with the strongest effects of cocaine lasting about thirty minutes, Frank found it easier to navigate the roads after his senses had fully recovered. By the time he arrived at the nursing home, he was free of most of the drug’s effects but also noticed how close he was to tears. He thought that maybe it had not been such a good idea to make the drive at all, but instead, wait Jonathan and Emily do it. Next time, he would know better.

With his rising emotional state, Frank thought it best to drive to the rear parking lot of the nursing home, and while out of sight of both staff and visitors allowed himself to fall apart. Should anyone wander by, they would see a middle-aged man crying behind the wheel of a hearse – a body lying on a stretcher, braced to the floor, zipped into a red velveteen bag. It would certainly have been a strange sight, and one might wonder how many might actually stop to help a distraught funeral director parked in the back lot of a nursing home. After fifteen or twenty minutes, Frank composed himself and, starting the hearse, drove out of the parking lot. Having grown up in Fulton County, he knew the area – its towns and back roads—etched in his mind. With this familiarity, he found his way through the shortest route and soon parked the hearse at the side of the funeral home. Seeing Jonathan and Emily’s cars in front of the building, he tried to enter quietly through the side door. But a vehicle as large as a hearse tends to make a rather noticeable rumble, and within moments, Jonathan, followed by Emily, appeared at the door. “Frank,” Jonathan said. “One of us could’ve helped you if you had waited.”

He made his way around to the back of the hearse and, opening the door, unclamped the stretcher and pulled it out – its bottom framework unfolding as its wheels struck the ground. So far, Jonathan’s words went unheard as Frank’s independent nature came out. Frustrated, Jonathan spoke up again. “Frank,” he said. “We’re supposed to be a team.” But Frank wasn’t one to ask for help, especially from those he worked with, and was determined to recover without the assistance of his staff. Closing the rear door of the hearse, he went through the motions – doing what he would normally do while transferring a corpse.

“Jonathan,” he replied. “It only takes one person to transfer a client and neither of you, so I thought I’d do it myself. Is that okay?”

It wasn’t that Frank was angry – quite the contrary. He wanted to get back on his feet and start doing the job of funeral director. He had done it for twenty years and wasn’t about to stop because of an emotional issue. Jonathan and Emily saw that their boss was doing his best to cope with a difficult situation, and stepping aside allowed him to pass. Their only assistance was in holding the door open.

Rolling the stretcher past them, Frank proceeded to the cool room, where he opened the small door of the only available cooler and, sliding out the stainless steel rack, moved the body onto it. While in full view, he unzipped the velveteen bag and easily removed the corpse from it, replacing it with a sheet. Before sliding the rack back into the cooler, he made sure to slip the medical file under the head of the deceased. Later, he would place a block under the head when he was ready to begin preparing the new client. Turning toward the door, he found Jonathan and Emily looking at him with perplexed expressions. It was time for a much-needed conversation.

“Alright,” he said. “You’ve probably been noticing that I've been more than out of sorts lately.” Jonathan and Emily nodded in agreement. “Yeah,” Frank continued. “And I know that you both have been concerned about me. I know I have a few issues to deal with, and I’ve decided to get some therapy.”

Jonathan smiled in relief while Emily began to tear up. They were more than happy to see their boss getting the help he needed. However, what Frank did not mention was that he was slowly bringing himself off the cocaine he had been using over the last few weeks. As necessary as it seemed to be at the time, it was now a hindrance to a healthy, productive life, and in a few weeks he would be free of it. It was just a matter of getting through it. “So,” Frank said. “I’m going to get online and find someone in town I can go to – probably once a week. You guys can handle things one day a week, right?”

Emily had been working there long enough that she could run the funeral home blindfolded, and Jonathan was accustomed to managing it once in a while. So together, they were more than certain they could run the business themselves, and if Frank ever wanted to get away for a long weekend, they were well-equipped to deal with any issues that might come up.

“Of course,” Jonathan said. “We can handle this place. No problem.”

Emily agreed completely.

Frank flashed a confident smile, and as he stepped through the doorway, turned back. “I knew I could count on the two of you,” he said. “Thanks for being there for me.”

Frank walked back to his office, leaving Jonathan and Emily looking at each other, unsure of what had happened. Jonathan had always known him as a private person – never reaching out for help from anyone, with the exception of Dorothy. Now, she was gone and up to this point, Frank felt alone in his struggle for sanity. But he chose to surrender his need for independence in exchange for the help he needed. He didn’t plan on going to his staff for support, as he thought it would be inappropriate and probably awkward. However, he wanted them to know that he was getting help, and this seemed to convey the thought that everything would work out in the end. But now, as he sat at his desk, his shaking hands reminded him it was time for a smaller than normal dose. A two-inch line was all he felt he needed. Twenty minutes later, his hands stopped shaking, and the sweat that had gathered on his forehead had dissipated. Frank knew that, in spite of how good he felt, his days of drug use were over. It was simply a matter of reaching the end of the road, and there would be nothing simple about that.