Page 20 of Remy

“It’s not that I’m surprised,” I whisper. “It’s just that grief can trigger unpredictable responses, and I don’t want anyone to be upset with my work.” Like I was with my mother’s presentation.

Her lips had been glued into a thin line. Her makeup, tacky.

I’d wanted to prepare her myself. To bathe her. To massage the stiffness from her limbs and lay her to rest in her casket.

But I’d been too young. Still in high school. With no formal training. And then there was the overwhelming grief.

So instead I live with the unwanted flashbacks of the final moments I saw her, and I don’t want any of our grieving families to endure similar trauma because of me.

“Be careful, Liv.” Ivy links her arm with mine and leads me back to the hall. “You seem like you’re skating toward an unwanted path.” Otherwise known as taking on the grief of our clients.

“I’m not.” I pat her hand. “I promise.”

“If that’s true, then prove it. Come out with me tonight. Let your hair down. Live a little.”

“Hard pass.” I unlink our arms as we walk by the reception area where Allison is fully entranced by whatever she’s tapping away at on her computer. “Not only do I have a crapload of work to do because of Hugo’s absence, but I’m on call due to Dad having the day off.”

“Let me handle any call-outs.” She follows me into the break room. “I can be the designated driver.”

I grab three mugs from the cupboard and fill them with coffee from the drip machine. “You as designated driver? Girlfriend, you wouldn’t know how to go to a club without getting white-girl wasted if your life depended on it.”

“I could so.” Her face falls. “I’m professional when it comes to my work responsibilities.”

I hand over her filled mug, her expression of genuine forlorn shaking away my exhaustion.

Although tongue in cheek, I insulted her. It’s a low blow given how hard she strives to impress my father.

“I know you are, Ive.” I wince in apology. “I was only messing around.”

“So you’ll let me take the van and be on-call tonight while you come out drinking?”

“Nope.” I make my way back into the hall. Ivy follows. “I need to start on next week’s work.”

“You realize you’re going to leave this Earth with cobwebs in places there shouldn’t be, right?” she asks quietly.

I smother a smile as we return to the reception area. “I dealt with the cobwebs a few months ago.” Kind of.

I place a coffee in front of Allison who lunges for the mug.

“You’re the best,” she gushes.

“She is not the best,” Ivy argues, keeping her voice low. “She thinks her dating card is full because of one random guy last summer.”

I scoff. “I didn’t say that.”

“So you don’t still think about him incessantly?” Ivy taunts.

She’s got me there, but that doesn’t prove her point. “Of course I still think about him. He was the only seemingly normal, mentally stable, extremely attractive guy I’ve spoken to in my entire life. No exaggeration.”

Allison pulls a face. “Hon, that only proves you don’t get out enough.”

“Don’t you start.” I shoot her a playfully stern look. “Dating is a minefield in our profession, and I don’t have the social bandwidth to handle the crazies. I already lie about my job to anyone who asks.”

“You mean your grocery delivery guy and the little old lady who lives next door?” Ivy hits me with a smug stare over the rim of her mug, then takes a sip. “They’re the only people you talk to besides us.”

I shrug. “I still stand by my statement.”

“The morbid topics of conversation do get a bit much.” Allison sighs. “I’ve lost count of the amount of immoral questions I’ve been asked by men since working here.”

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