Page 1 of Dead Serious with Benefits
ARLO
It was the moment before the storm.
I liked to take that moment, before the proverbial clouds rolled in and the rain started. That place where the details were more or less sorted, and all that was left was to wait and see if there was thunder and lightning. A moment to breathe, collect myself, and be the person I needed to be. The room was prepared, the flowers were set up, and the music was queued, though it was generic, gentle music playing softly from the speakers. I could take time to breathe and be ready for the next few hours.
I stepped into the viewing room, glancing around, trying not to analyze every detail again, because that step was done. I noticed the chairs were fewer than last time, but there were equal numbers on each side of the aisle. The flowers were laid out carefully, simple arrangements filling the room with their scent, which I breathed in, letting their gentle life remind me of my real home.
There would be people soon, not many apparently, but people. You never knew what kind of storm they brought, but I tried to be prepared for every situation, emotion, variation in tone, tune, and style. Some were wracked by open andoccasionally loud grief; others kept their sorrow on their faces and their mouths sealed. Others looked as though they were there because it was expected, and for some that was the case, but for others it was because their pain was locked so deep and so secure that they might never be aware of its depths. While others showed up drunk, high, or even angry, with rage in their eyes to cover up and give expression to the sorrow they felt.
Death, and by proxy the grief it brought, was a messy, unpredictable, and unpleasant thing for most people. That was never more apparent than when the grieving and lost were brought together in one place, where the reality of their loss was laid out before them in the most literal sense.
Standing in the aisle, I stared at the casket, open for the viewing due to start in less than half an hour. I knew what came next because the steps I followed leading up to any viewing were always the same. I could wait, though, not just because that’s what I always did and the routine gave me a sense of comfort, a sense of…well, something ephemeral and difficult to name but something I knew made me feel steadier, more secure. I would also wait because the next step was private and solely for myself, and right now I could hear two sets of footsteps approaching.
One set clipped despite the deep, soft carpet meant to muffle noise. Another set was softer, yet still heavy. I knew it was the swagger of confidence and a little impatience.
“All I’m saying,” Mitchell’s voice rumbled from near the double doors into the viewing room, “is that I know I’m notsupposedto hope for something dramatic to happen, what I am saying is that I doubt anything as interesting is going to happen this time around.”
“The fact that you’re calling it ‘interesting’ tells me youarehoping for something like that to happen,” Elaine snapped back in annoyance, her voice piercing the gentle ambiance of the viewing room. “I don’t know why you still have a job here.”
“You know, if anyone said anything like that to you, you’d assume they were implying you were sleeping with the boss to keep your job,” he returned, and I knew he was rolling his eyes.
“But no one wonders why I still have a job, so there’s the difference.”
“And the only one wondering why I have a job is you. So clearly the problem comes from you, not me.”
“You are my problem.”
“Which means it’s not my problem.”
Their bickering, while common, broke the meticulous quiet I had mentally collected around myself. I turned to find them standing just inside the doorway, eyeing each other, her with venom and him with smugness. From their first conversation, they disliked each other. Mitchell probably thought he was good at hiding it, but he didn’t pester and needle anyone quite like he did her. I knew Elaine thought herself above that kind of ‘petty’ behavior, but despite usually being the picture of cool control, her knives were sharp and ready to deploy whenever Mitchell was around.
I could never decide whether their mutual animosity was just that, or if there was something else beneath the surface that neither could see. In my experience, anger was often a mask people unconsciously used to shield themselves and the world from the truth. One only had to watch two loved ones turn on each other while standing over the casket of someone they both loved to see that. Or like my brother’s partner, Jace, who used anger to conceal the fear and pain locked inside him. So I wondered if their anger and hatred were something else. Maybe I was reading too much into things, and they were simply two people whose personalities could never mesh amicably.
I kept the thoughts to myself. I had long since discovered that people did not enjoy someone poking through their thoughts and motives.
Mitchell turned and looked me up and down. “What do you think, Arlo?”
“About what specifically?” I asked because he could be asking about several things in that conversation, and I was not going to speak about the wrong one accidentally.
“Do you think I’m sleeping with the boss to keep my job?” he asked.
I blinked slowly, not because I seriously considered it but because the mental image of Mitchell sleeping with Mr. Dalton was…unpleasant. “I’m not sure Mr. Dalton operates that way.”
Elaine rolled her eyes. “Jesus, could you be any more unprofessional?”
“What?” Mitchell asked, eyes widening. “It’s a fair question, and yes, I could. Do you want to see it?”
“The less I hear from you, the better,” she snapped.
“Calls me unprofessional and then acts like a bitch,” he said to me with a shake of his head. “But that’s perfectly fine.”
“I don’t mind the lack of professionalism,” I said softly. Then realized I didn’t need them thinking I was taking sides. “from either of you. Right now is the time when we can be ourselves. I wish you wouldn’t try to tear out each other’s throats, though.”
Elaine scowled. “And I wish I didn’t have to hear the consistently stupid things that come out of his mouth, and yet here we are, forced to endure it anyway.”
Mitchell looked amused, and I said nothing, knowing there was no point in adding to what I’d already said. Some things in life were immutable, and their animosity was one of them. She always fell for the bait he threw out, and he always took issue with her insults. Well, maybe notalways,but there was nothing I could do or felt the urge to do. Staying out of other people’s business had worked for me in the past, if only because meddlers were poorly looked upon.
Elaine’s attention shifted across the room, her brow furrowing as she saw something more important. Shooting Mitchell a dirty look, she marched over to one of the arrangements and began fussing with it. Not that it was necessary, we all knew the room was as perfect as it got, and ultimately, perfection was not the goal of the funeral home. It was about creating an environment that suited the needs of the grieving, which involved an environment that was peaceful and unobtrusive, though there were the occasional requests that were more…colorful.
