Terminal

“I don’t know. I’m Irish, so I guess a wake would be kind of cool. I could see my friends hanging out and getting drunk over the casket, you know? Pump some tunes in, maybe turn the bass up. That would be all right.”

“Sadly, I’m afraid that we do not allow alcoholic beverages on the premises, Mr. O’Brien. You need a liquor license in the state of Pennsylvania to do that.”

“Oh. Well, that’s okay. My wife would have probably shit a brick if we did something like that anyway.”

He flinched, then asked again.

“So, other than a wake, do you have any preferences?”

“What do you recommend? To be honest, I really haven’t been to too many funerals. My dad died when I was young and I don’t really remember his. My mom’s was a few years back, but it wasn’t much. Don’t take that personally, though. Mom didn’t have any money. Your competition across town did that one. Didn’t they go out of business since then?”

He gave a polite chuckle.

“Yes. Indeed they did.”

“Well, there you go.”

There was an uncomfortable moment of silence between us and I could feel the sales pitch building in him again.

“Hey, Mr. Myers, let me ask you something. You ever see that horror movie where the undertaker is shrinking people’s corpses down and turning them into dwarves? Had those flying silver balls in it and this little kid and an ass-kicking ice-cream delivery guy that fought them?

Phantasm, I think it’s called?”

He frowned. “No, I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure of viewing that particular film. Why do you ask?”

“Well, in the movie, the undertaker sticks a long needle in this one guy’s body, and pumps this yellow stuff into his veins while his blood is pumped out. The whole machine looks like two blenders strapped together or something. Just wondered if that’s how it happens in real life.”

“I can assure you, Mr. O’Brien, that kitchen utensils are not used during the embalming process.”

“Oh. Well, in any case, that movie was the bomb.”

“Perhaps we should get back to discussing your service.”

“Sure.” I could tell that I was getting under his pompous skin, and I liked it.

“Keep in mind that your service should represent an opportunity for your friends and family to reflect on your life and to honor your memory. There is, of course, no single style of funeral. No one template. That is why I must insist on input from you. I can offer suggestions, of course. There is a lot to think about, Mr. O’Brien. Without sounding morbid, my staff can help notify your loved ones, arrange everything, take care of securing the death certificate and the necessary permits—”

“Permits? You mean you need a permit to get buried in this state?”

“Indeed.”

I shook my head in disbelief.

“So what else can you guys do?”

“Well, we would also coordinate all the details of the service with the clergy involved. If I may ask, are you a religious person, and if so, what doctrine?”

“I don’t know,” I answered truthfully, “but I intend to find that out before the day is over with. That’s actually next on my list of things to do.”

“I see,” he said, even though he clearly did not. “Well, whatever you decide your religious denomination is, Mr. O’Brien, we can arrange that for you as well.”

“What about— my body and stuff? What happens with it after I’m dead?”

“We would, of course, take care of your body and arrange it for cremation or burial. Do you have a preference regarding these two choices?”

“I don’t know. I guess it doesn’t really matter once I’m gone, does it? It’s not like it’ll hurt or anything. What’s cheaper?”

“That depends on a number of factors. For example, although you said you were paying with cash, do you have any veteran’s burial allowances or social security benefits to draw upon?”

“No. I don’t even have a job anymore. I got laid off on Friday.”

“Hmmm. Again, you have my condolences. Even though you have indicated cash payment up front, we do have a wide range of payment and financing options available for you.”

I had to give Mr. Myers some serious props. The guy was a true salesman. I’d walked onto the lot wanting to buy a Kia and he was trying to sell me a Porsche.

“Whether you decide to be buried or cremated, or perhaps even to be placed in an aboveground vault, I would suggest a funeral service, as well as a visitation ceremony. If you are on display in a casket, you’ll want one that is, shall we say, aesthetically pleasing. Many other funeral homes in the county would attempt to convince you to purchase a more expensive casket than you require. I believe we have something that would fit your needs. For example, we have steel caskets starting at only eight hundred and ninety-five dollars.”

“Steel? Do I really need one made out of steel? I’m just as happy with a pine box. Seriously. It doesn’t matter when I’m dead, right?”

I remembered the solid gold coffin from my nightmare, and shivered.

“Quite. But though it doesn’t matter to you, it might be of some importance to your loved ones. I can assure you, Mr. O’Brien, that while we do have caskets to fit every budget, we do not offer a pine box.”