Page 207 of Lost in the Dark
PLUCKED
VERA VALENTINE
Cara
So that was it.
While I knew I’d eventually have to handle Brigit’s funeral, the idea of it was too sharp to consider properly. Instead, my brain clung to palatable clichés as a coping mechanism - but that was before, when this had all been theoretical.
I had no dramatic wide-brimmed hat to wear now, no oversized sunglasses, no delicately-clutched handkerchief to dab at my eyes. Perhaps most importantly, there was no stoic family friend or boyfriend to hold me up when all I wanted to do was collapse beside Brigit’s grave.
Brigit and I had been on our own, half-sisters who didn’t discover one another until three years ago. It was after all of our respective parents had passed and we’d both taken DNA ancestry tests on a whim, seeking comfort in connection. With Brigit’s medical needs and my then-dicey lease situation, becoming roommates was a logistical move that quickly became a bonding experience for our found family of two.
Until last week, I’d been 31 to my sister’s 37, and a fresh wave of raw grief came with the realization I would catch up to her now. As I struggled to breathe evenly, movement caught my eye. Thomas Elliot, the rangy owner of New Horizons Memorial Gardens, was ambling over, looking decidedly more haggard outside of the cool dim of his office. He sat down heavily in the chair beside me - one of four sparse folding chairs the cemetery had set up beside the grave, three too many for my introverted sister.
Even through my crying-congested nose, I found the sour metallic smell of the man beside me overpowering. His body odor and liquor sweat made my already grief-twisted stomach queasy, and I was suddenly grateful I’d skipped breakfast.
"Miss Pierce, my deepest condolences for your loss. I'm afraid, however, that we have a little problem." He frowned, and a wave of dizziness swamped my senses. My sister was being buried two feet away from where we sat. What else could possibly be worthy of my attention right now?
"Problem?" I clutched a ball of now-sodden fast-food napkins in my hand, hastily dug from my glovebox before walking to the grave site.
He nodded, folding his hands behind his head of greasy hair in a careless pose. A frown pulled at my mouth; Brigit had never been one to stand on ceremony, but even she would have been irked by this man's casual attitude at her funeral.
“I’ve just heard from the life insurance company, and I’m sorry to tell you, they denied your claim. That means the bill for your sister’s funeral, well…it’s currentlyunresolved.” He didn’t look at me as he dropped the bomb. In fact, his eyes idly wandered the edges of Brigit’s casket, as if we were watching a sunset, rather than an interment. Deep in the nest of my brain, financial panic elbowed its way beside grief. I only dimly recalled the numbers Mr. Elliot had rattled off at me back in his office; I’d been busy crying, but I vaguely remembered being shocked that at least one of them was so high.
“Now, I can take a credit card, or a check if you’d like, but obviously we prefer cash here at New Horizons. This will need to be settled before we can finish interring your sister, of course.” He dusted off the leg of his worn-thin formal pants, ragged at the cuff.
“Mr. Elliot-”
“Tommy, please.” He smiled too broadly, patting my thigh just high enough to make me uncomfortable.
“Tommy. As I mentioned when we were setting-” Hot tears caught in my throat. I still couldn’t speak the reality of it, even sitting beside my sister’s coffin. “When we last spoke. I don’t have that. My sister and I were barely getting by. You told me the insurance company would pay for everything, it was just that there wouldn’t be anything left over.” I quietly blew my nose and dabbed at my eyes again.
He made a sound of assent. “Ah, yes, but if you remember I also told you it was subject to final approval. Unfortunately, theydidn’tapprove it, which means that we’ll need to settle the bill before I can conclude your sister’s service.”
Irritation bloomed beside grief and panic.Here, at my sister’s graveside? He was asking for solutionshere?
Anger throbbed at my temples. “Mr. El- Tommy. Can we please address this later this afternoon?Obviously, I’m a little distraught right now.”
He sucked air through his teeth like we were haggling over a used car. “I wish we could, Ms. Pierce. The problem is that, unless the bill is handled in full right now, I have to send your sister’s body back to the county morgue for an anonymous cremation. Burial isn’t exactly something we can easily reverse course on if someone skips the bill. You understand, I’m sure.”
I sniffled in shock through my congestion, a headache starting to manifest from squinting in the relentless sun. This didn’t sound right, not at all. Did human beings really get…repossessed, like cars that had fallen behind in their payments? I sat up straighter, tears drying up in the wake of a looming crisis. Selfishly, I’d hoped the crises would end when Brigit’s struggle did; perpetual exhaustion from last year’s constant health scares had already trashed my sleep schedule.
“Is there a - payment plan or anything? I don’t have any money at the moment, but I’d be willing to bring what I can each week until the bill is paid in full. Please, please, work with me here. This is what Brigit wanted, and she’d even bought the headstone already.” My eyes flicked to the modestly-sized stone, light on lettering but heavy on price. At the time, Brigit had made a morbid joke about paying by the pound for her own death marker, like so much granite lunchmeat.
“Well…” Tommy examined his dirty fingernails, dramatically considering. I knew he hadn’t come by that dirt honestly, from what I could tell, all he did was hole up in his poorly-lit, air-conditioned cave of an office: someone else had dug Brigit’s grave, and no doubt someone else would fill it. “Wedohave a special program. Community service, you know? They used to have the kids work off their hours digging graves, supposed to teach them respect for life or something.” He waved a hand in the air, rolling his eyes and smirking. My already low opinion of the man beside me vied for depth with my sister’s open grave.
Tommy straightened in the chair, stretching. “I ended it when I caught a few of the little shits trying to steal from petty cash last year. But, if you wanted to do some work here at New Horizons, we could perhaps…see to settling your bill that way. It would mean a significant commitment, you understand, and I’d need you to sign some papers.”
I squeezed the knot of napkins in my hand, nodding reluctantly. While I didn’t exactly relish spending my free time in a cemetery, I was the proverbial beggar that couldn’t afford to choose. It would be quiet and peaceful, at least, and it would allow me to visit Brigit’s grave regularly. Maybe it could even be therapeutic? That was probably being optimistic, but my emotions were a broken metronome right now; I needed to focus onsomethinggood.
“Great! Just stop by the office when you’re done here.” Tommy slapped his knees as he stood, and once again, I found his casual body language and sudden shift of tone off-putting. Maybe he’d just seen so many funerals it didn’t affect him anymore? Either way, I knew my sister wouldn’t have liked him, and I was glad Tommy hadn’t been in charge of preparing Brigit’s body directly. The thought of Brigit’sbodypulled a fresh well of tears into my eyes, and I pressed the damp clump of napkins against my nose, struggling for composure.
A soft rustle at my side startled me out of my morbid thoughts, the sudden appearance of a tall man in crisp grey coveralls stealing my chance at a moment of solitude. He crouched down beside my chair, silently offering a small pack of tissues, which I gratefully accepted. He didn’t make a sound, but frowned softly, brow drawn in sympathy over cool grey eyes that were just a shade darker than his uniform.
Wordlessly, he brushed a few fingers over my hand, still wrapped tight around the soggy clump of napkins, plucking it from my grasp. Embarrassment heated my cheeks, but I relinquished it, allowing the quiet stranger to offer that small gesture without complaint. Tommy had made a horrific afternoon even worse, and kindness from an apparently non-germaphobic stranger made it all a bit more tolerable.
He straightened, his frown deepening as Tommy’s wheedling voice, laced with irritation, snapped across the quiet stretch of graves. “Jax, get back to work and stop harassing the mourners.”