A female undertaker named Grace who cares for her mentally handicapped older sister, ends up bringing an athlete named Bodhi back to life through a kiss. What happens when, Bodhi shows up at her door a few days after, wanting to get away from the pr...
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"When it comes to God, we can't run out of second chances...only time."
― Robin Jones Gunn
...
"You made my life a living hell," I say, looking at Ms Fink's lifeless corpse.
"You had no problem in making me run more laps than necessary, you gave me relentless detentions, and... oh and how can I forget, you granddaughter always managed to get first chair cuz you were best friends with the band teacher."
I smirk as I pump out the blood from her body, injecting the embalming solution in the process.
I take a puff from my weed pipe.
Her family told me they want her looking fabulous in the casket. How can I do that, when she wasn't fabulous to begin with? She's as old as I remember her being in middle school and just as ugly... if not, uglier.
I'm surprised that she has blood coming from her body. I thought witches had souls as lifeless as a pile of dirt.
I laugh, taking another puff from my pipe. "Isn't it funny, Ms Fink," I say, shaking my head. "That I'm getting the last laugh. Isn't it weird how the person's life you chose to make a living hell, is literally preparing you for your funeral."
It's tempting to ruin the dress her family have sat out for her to wear in the casket. An old fashion polka-dot dress that makes me just itch by glancing at it.
I then take out my Polaroid camera I keep by the cabinet. And setting my pipe down on the counter, I relent, and I decide to shove it into Ms Fink's mouth.
Now she looks fabulous.
Holding the camera up, with one click, I take the picture.
It's going in a collection of photographs I keep of the people I've embalmed. As crazy and creepy as that sounds, I find something about the overall effect of this haunting.
•••
"Where's your sister?" Ms Fink's daughter, Kate, asks me.
We're currently in the office, a place apart from the main room where the body viewing is being held.
I grin. "She's kind of occupied with something else at the moment," I tell her, sitting up in my chair.
Kate nods before smiling the best way she can during times like these. Her eyes remain sad-looking and her cheeks are tear-stained from long accounts of crying. "She did a fantastic job on my mother. She looks like the same person she was when she'd been alive. Thank you." She grabs my hand and squeezes it.
"I'll tell her that," I say, grinning earnestly.
Kate along with her husband both leave the office. I then stand up and look out the window.
I sigh. Why does Monet just stand out there, looking through that old kaleidoscope of her's? People are going to see her, and think of her as this crazy person, and no one wants a crazy person embalming their loved one.
I'm able to slip out unnoticed, and going over to my sister, I stand beside her.
"Mo," I say, softly putting my hand on her shoulder. "You need to come in."
She smiles and nods, still looking out the kaleidoscope. I try to be gentle with my sister as much as she's gone through, I have to approach her sensibly and earnestly so that I don't scare her away.
"C'mon," I say, grabbing her hand. "We need to go in."
"The colors are beautiful," she whispers wistfully, her eyes never leaving the view. She takes the kaleidoscope away from her eye and smiles at the landscape in front her—fields of green green grass in the far off distance.
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