Gandhi's Guide to Getting By

chapter twelve

Matt calls. I figure we might go for a walk through the park, or maybe catch a bite somewhere midtown. I'm about to suggest the park idea when he says, "How would you feel about going to a funeral?"

Honestly? It'd be an understatement to say I didn't see that one coming.

"Emma? You still there?"

"Umm, yeah."

"Look, I know how weird this is. I tried calling you last night, right after I found out about Rick, but your phone was off."

"Rick?"

"Rick Arsenal," Matt says, "My mother's non-exclusive partner. The guy who's funeral I'm... umm, inviting you to."

Non-exclusive? Matt's mother in a non-exclusive relationship? Non-exclusive as in his mother is more of a swinger than I am?

"Maybe I should explain," he says. "Emma? You still there? Okay, maybe this wasn't such a good idea..." Poor Matt. He thinks my silence is shock-induced, brought on by his inviting-me-to-a-funeral. The truth is, I can deal with the funeral. It's his mother in a non-exclusive relationship that's got me floored.

"Your mother's in a non-exclusive relationship?" I finally manage to say.

Matt laughs. "It's like this," Matt begins. And then he proceeds to tell me about Rick Arsenal, his mother's partner, who died last night from a heart attack. No, his mother is not particularly upset, or rather she is upset, but not because he's dead and not because he died while having sex with his other girlfriend. Remember, we did say non-exclusive. She's upset because Rick is supposedly worth a few million only no one knows where he put the money. Being "the prick he was" (Matt quoting his mom), he kept it a secret. So now the "frickin' prick" (again Matt quoting his mom) is dead and neither Matt's mom, nor Becka (the other girlfriend), know where the money is. But, and this is a big but, there is a will, as well as an executor of the will who's been instructed to read the will as soon as the funeral is over which explains why the viewing, funeral, and reception are all happening this afternoon. The "faster it's over, the faster Becka and I can get our hands on that money because let me tell you, we deserve a major payoff for putting up with that stinking bastard" (another Matt mother quote).

Matt releases a long sigh like he can't believe he just said everything he just did. "My mom's a headcase," he now says. "but she wants me to be there for support so I'm stuck for the afternoon and then it's back to work-- Trust me, Emma, I know how crazy this sounds, but I really want to see you and I'm not sure when I'll get any other time off."

Well I must be really desperate because an hour later finds me in front of Ron's Full Service Funeral Home, somewhere in the middle of Brooklyn. I'm wearing a black dress and black heels, even though Matt said I could just come in jeans. Matt is wearing a striped oxford and beige chinos. He meets me at the door. "I hope you'll still want to keep seeing me after you meet my mother," he whispers, "you're practically the first girl I've ever introduced her to."

"Really?"

"Really. She's not exactly the maternal type. She wasn't exactly the loyal wife type either. She left us when I was five. She's just one of these people who does part-time better than she does full-time. Part-time mom, part-time wife, part-time lover. You'll see what I mean in a minute."

Matt leads the way inside. Ron's Full Service Funeral Home really is full service. Not only do they work fast, they even provide professional mourners for those clients who were too busy with their lives to worry about family and friends - at least that's what paragraph two of the When We Say Full Service, We Mean Full Service section in the glossy brochure writes. The brochure is compliments of a man wearing a Ron's Full Service Home t-shirt. He stands outside the opening of the viewing/funeral/reception room, holding a stack of them. Where else can you pay your last respects, listen to a eulogy or two, and have a party all within three hours? - so states paragraph three of the Why Ron's Funeral Home Makes Sense For People Too Busy to Mourn section.