Fiction: The Honest Obituary Writer
01
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"It's a rare occasion if I see anybody naked at all." Mary Catherine Hazel did not want to share that. The words escaped her mouth without thinking. They had been chitchatting about a play that had featured an actor naked on stage.
Sitting on her left, Eddie Mild's eyes widened at her words. "You too?" he said as he stuffed more salad into his already full mouth. They were sitting at a table that held 34 staff of Everyscene News and newspaper owner, Jefferson Mann, his mother Eleanor and brother Remington at Mann's vacation home. Mary didn't want to come but her nana, Amelia, threatened to cook. Like a pyromaniac, whenever Amelia tried to cook, things tended to catch on fire. Growing up with Amelia, Mary had eaten a lot of burnt and frozen meals.
In her head, Mary couldn't help but write Eddie's obituary: Eddie Mild, 59, had always believed in eating a salad after a full meal because that was how he kept his 310 pound body fit. Before he choked to death on a crouton from his Caesar salad, he had the pleasure of discussing how good the dressing was. Eddie loved eating fried meat, wearing sunglasses in the rain, racing his chihuahua, Jade Cow, to the mailbox and irritating his neighbors by blocking their driveway with his clunker of a car. Eddie is survived by his elderly mother, Edna Mild, and his mother's cat, Jax and his dog Jade Cow. Eddie had turned 30 in January. Mary tried not to laugh at her morbid thoughts.
Obituaries had been part of Mary's life since she was 13. Sometimes she thought of obituaries as personal ads only more honest. They often appeared in her head unexpectedly and as much as she tried to ignored them, she couldn't. At 29, she had acclimated to accepting these obituaries without fuss. Beside that, she wrote obituaries for Everyscene News. She had started as an editor's assistant and when the guy who wrote the obituary section retired, she applied to be his replacement. She didn't need the job as she also had a successful business, Eternal Glory Funeral Parlor, with her college friend Ramona Hue. Mary didn't like to go the funeral parlor much. Unlike Ramona, Mary didn't have the fearlessness to be around dead bodies even if she wrote obituaries.
Whatever Mary's mind came up with, it was the truth. Through these obituaries, she somehow knew things she didn't before. Knowing what age someone might die was a gift and a curse. When Mary was in high school, her nana was at the hospital with a stroke. Amelia's obituary came into Mary's head and she knew Amelia wasn't going to die that day and it had eased Mary's mind. Other times, a sad torment filled her head.
Eddie excused himself to go the bathroom. Mary sighed and veered her eyes around the table. All her co-workers were there even the ones she had not met before. Mary spotted Libby Never, one of Eternal Glory's employees, carrying a wine bottle and filling guest's glasses. Mary already had Libby's obituary. The young lady was going to live a long time.
Libby stopped beside Mary. "White wine, ma'am?"
Mary shook her her head. "No thank you."
Libby leaned down a little toward Mary and whispered, "Please don't tell Ramona was here."
Mary smiled. "Relax. Ramona wouldn't care if you have ten other jobs just as long as you do your work." Mary had liked Libby right away when she met her.
"Thanks, boss. I need to get back to work." Libby smiled and turned to other guests.
Mary stared down at her plate of leftover salad. Knowing she was an overeater at parties, she had ate before she came. Across the space toward the livingroom, the panorama windows framed by pearl opal green curtains had a wide view of the outside where a light snow was falling over a forest full of dark spruce trees.
Josie Marks, secretary to the editor-in-chief, sitting on the right of Mary, made a choking noise and puked into her half-eaten cake with a hand pressing her stomach. All around the table, many of Mary's co-workers started moaning and groaning, a few puking, a few running out of their seats.
Mary turned back to Josie. The words came to her head. Josephine Marks, age 84, died peacefully surrounded by her three daughters and their husbands, four grandsons, two granddaughters. She had a fondness for furnitures made from oaks and knew just how to deal with ornery bosses and their bosses. Josie had turned 33 just three months ago.
There was a loud grunt. Mary turned her eyes on Jack Whit, editor-in-chief of Everyscene News, sitting across from her. Mary's thought sped through his obituary. Jack Whit, 56, fell through a manhole while walking his wife's dog. Jack was a lover of pygymy rabbits and kite flying. He never missed a windy day outdoor. Jack left behind his wife, Lolly, her dog Polly, and his Hermann tortoise Nono and pygymy rabbit Yaya. Mary was relieved to know her boss wasn't going to die tonight but the thought he would die in 6 years dampened her relief. Her head started to ache.
The word poison was murmured as people spilled toward the livingroom and lying down on couches and soft chairs. A few had simply slumped down on the carpeted floor. Mary helped people to chairs but there was nothing she could do to relief their pain. She glanced around the room, stopping on those who were sick for their quick obituary and none of them was going to die if she was a good judge of age. The seven-people band situated in the corner of the livingroom had stopped playing.
Jefferson Mann, standing in his dark tux, tapped a glass with a spoon handle. "Ladies, gentlemen, ambulances are on their way. We just need to stay calm and wait. I can assure you, everyone will get the help they need. Just stay calm." He smiled. The lines around his mouth and on his forehead deepened. He signaled the band. They started on a slow number.
Mann's words did calm Mary a bit. She escaped out of the room, toward the hallway and into the first of three guest bathrooms.
02
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Mary turned off the faucet and lifted up one of the white towels from a pile on a build-in shelf in the wall to the left of the white porcelain sink and dried her face. She dropped the towel into a basket marked laundry. The warm water had refreshed her a little. With a brief glance at her image in the mirror, she quickly turned away. If she stared at her face too long, an obituary might appeared in her head and she wasn't sure she wanted to know at what age she was going to die.
The bathroom was vast, twice as big as her bedroom at her house and the toilet bowl was in its own little cubicle. The blue tiles on the wall and floor and all the silver bathroom fixtures, all appeared new. She turned around and sat on the sofa. Above, on the wall were two framed photographs - one of white shells on a beach and the other was a blue quaker parrot.
Even with the thick walls, Mary could hear the muffled music. She pulled out her phone from her dress pocket but there was no signal. She wasn't worried about Amelia as she had her nurse Georgie. But if she was to be struck here? There was a knock on the bathroom door. Mary ran a hand over her hair and stepped out of the bathroom. A woman hurried around Mary and entered the bathroom and shut the door. Mary had the woman's obituary in her head and was glad she didn't have to worry about her. Mary made her way around the line that had formed near the door.
Back in the livingroom, there were cluster of groups. Mary wasn't sure where she should go. She wasn't particularly close with her co-workers, not even Eddie whose cubicle was right next to Mary's at the office. Eddie was sitting on one of the couches and appeared to be asleep.
Mann quieted the room again with a tap to a glass. "Ladies, gentlemen, I'm sorry to inform you the ambulances will be a little late due to the storm but I can assure you all of you will get the help you need. Thank you." Mann didn't smile.
Outside the windows, the snow was falling in heavier drops. Will they be snowed in? Mary gave a quick glance around the room. Everyone appeared either tired or in pain. Should she leave? But Josie had been her ride and had promised to take Mary home. Now, Mary wasn't sure what to do it. With Mann's property taking up acres of land, Mary would have to walk a long way before reaching the streets to even get a cab. Should she ask Mann for a ride home? The man owned tons of cars or so the gossip said.
Mary couldn't help but noticed Tallula Teal, fashion editor of Everyscene News, was sitting next to Mann on his right. Everyone knew Teal wanted to be the next Mrs. Mann. Her obituary: Tallula Teal, 34, shot by an ex-husband's ex-wife, died penniless. She had a fondness for vintage wine and expensive jewelry. She left behind a father who didn't acknowledge her and a younger brother who didn't care for her existence. Teal had been lying about turning 25 this year but she was probably 29.
On Mann's left was his mother, Eleanor. Mann's brother Remington was hovering around his mother. Mann's face was slightly red and the lines around his face was more vivid. The words came to her head: Jefferson Mann, 39, died of a combination of asthma and milk allergy at his vacation home during a holiday party. Jefferson loved lime-flavored candy, taking long walks and spending money on his loved ones. He is survived by his daughter, Eva, his mother, Eleanor, younger brother, Remington, younger sister, Abigail, two uncles and their spouses, an aunt, and a couple of cousins. Mary had heard from the office gossip Mann had turned 39 just this October.
Mary rubbed her aching head. Unwanted obituaries always gave her a headache. Mann took a glass that appeared like orange juice from one of the wait staff who were passing out drinks. He took a sip. After a few seconds, he suddenly dropped the glass and grasped the chest of his shirt and trying to catch his breath. "Jeff!" Eleanor shouted. People started to hover around Mann.
"Allergy! Quick, get his injector!" shouted Mary. She wasn't sure if she should have said inhaler. The man also had asthma.
"What? Where is it!" said Eleanor. Remington, Teal nor anyone else seemed to know either. Mary had no idea where Mann kept his injector but if it was her nana, she would keep it close to her. "Search his clothes," she said.
Remington searched Mann's jacket. He pulled out what looked like a mini rocket but held out his arms. "What do I do?"
"Pull the injector out and then press it to his thigh," said Mary. Remington took the injector from the carrier tube and pressed it to Mann's thigh but he didn't release the safety cap.
"The safety cap! You have to remove that first." Mary couldn't help being frustrated. Mann was rich enough to have a vacation home the size of a castle and employed thousands of people but no smart person by his side to know how to use an injector? Mary wanted to laugh.
"You do it," said Remington. He held the injector toward Mary. People stepped back so that Mary had a path toward Remington. The brother's lip tilted slightly at the corner as if he was challenging Mary.
Should Mary do it? They all knew Mann was having this party to announce the newspaper's closure. In the last few years, the paper's future had been on the razor's edge. Mann had other businesses, magazines, hotels, factories, he didn't need to keep a struggling paper going. Even if Mann wasn't saved, someone else would close the paper since it wasn't making money. But Mary couldn't ignore Mann. He looked as if he might just collapse any second.
Mary made her way toward Remington and grabbed the EpiPen from him. She removed the safety cap and stabbed the orange tip against Mann's thigh. Slowly, she counted to three and pulled it out. Mann started to ease his breathing. His blues eyes met Mary's brown ones. She turned away and started massaging the injection area. Someone pushed her away. "What do you think you're doing? Taking advantage of a sick man!"
Mary fell to the floor but picked up the injector and stood up. She glared at Teal who had her hands all over the man. Mary shoved the injector into Eleanor's hands and stepped back. Eleanor, Remington and others hovered around Mann.
Libby, standing nearby, gave Mary a thumb's up. Mary went to stand beside her.
"You didn't eat the steak, did you?" said Libby.
Mary shook her head. She ate some salad and drank some water since the start of the dinner. "No."
"Good. The steaks are poisoned. One of Mr. Mann's former employees poisoned them. I just saw the lady being dragged away by two men. Hey, how did you know about the injector?"
Mary smiled. "My nana have a peanut allergy." Amelia wasn't so good at staying away from food she shouldn't eat. Mary was the same way. She suddenly had a craving for one of Jazz's taco. Their tacos were always unpredictable as they did not offer menus and customers didn't get to choose but the truck cafe had been a staple in Mary's small neighborhood for years. If you see a truck with an alligator eating a taco illustration, that's where you get the best tacos.
"I hope no one dies. But then again, you can never tell who might just kick the bucket," said Libby.
When Mary first received the obituaries, she had anguished over each and every one but now she had gotten used to accepting that not every obituary needed her attention. After all, she was only one person, there was little she could do to change someone's fate.
Another obituary entered her head: Jefferson Mann, 39, fell off the fifth floor balcony of his vacation home during a holiday party. Jefferson loved lime-flavored candy... the rest was the same as the previous one. Mary had never had two obituary for a single person before. What the heck was this? She checked her watch on her wrist - it was half an hour before midnight. Out the windows, only the tips of the trees showed underneath the layer of snow which was still falling. The storm didn't seem like it would end soon. They were probably struck here for a while. Mary hoped she didn't have to do anything else she might regret.
Well done! -Christine cmlk79.blogspot.com
ReplyDeleteNow THAT'S an attention-grabbling opening line! Plus, an entertaining and inventive story after it!
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