Page 3 of Swimming in Grief (Monster Match season two)

Reuben

I didn’t want to go to the morgue the next morning, but I knew I had to. I forced myself to take a shower and shove more toast in my mouth, about the only thing I could manage to prepare. I had a splitting headache, so I chugged some meds and too much coffee. I realized I had forgotten to tell my manager at the bank what had happened. I could not bring myself to talk to him on the phone, so I sent a simple text.

My husband passed away yesterday. I need a few days off. Will call later. I did not get a response right away, but that was fine. I just needed to get this horrible first morning over with. So, I got in my car and drove to the Gilmer Rock Morgue.

Dex met me there. Jacky had to teach her classes, but Dex was an artist who worked from home, so they could be more flexible. They smiled at me, the movement tight. I could feel the apology on their face. “Ready?”

“No,” I said, shaking my head, but I still pushed past them and into the single-story building. Walking in, the smell was unlike anything I had known before. The antiseptic odor of a hospital, the strange sort of powdery perfume smell that I associated with senior ladies, something a little too sweet that I couldn’t identify. It almost made me gag. I fought down the feeling, taking a deep breath through my mouth before heading further inside, Dex following after me, the hum of fluorescent lights overhead like the drone of swarming flies.

The front office looked like a doctor’s office, with a desk and plastic chairs in a small waiting area. The woman behind the desk had graying chestnut curls pinned up in an attempt at an updo that looked like it was trying to escape from her head. She had black framed cat-eye glasses, and she wore a shade of fuchsia lipstick that was not doing her skin tone any favors.

“Can I help you?” she asked in the pleasant tone of an office worker who didn’t want to be there. She had lipstick on her top teeth.

“Hi, I’m Reuben Thompson,” I said slowly.

She gazed back at me, facial features not changing. Why had I thought that she would recognize my name? She probably didn’t know the name of any of the corpses back beyond those heavy metal doors. They didn’t mean anything to her, even though one of them meant everything to me.

“I’m here to… My husband… Kyle… last night.” I was fumbling for the words I still hadn’t been able to figure out how to say out loud.

“Are you here to identify a deceased?” she asked with almost no inflection to her tone.

“Yes,” I said, my fingers clinging to the edge of the counter so tightly that they were turning white.

The woman turned to her computer that looked like it was from the days of dial-up, typing something into it. The clack of the keys was oddly loud in the almost unnatural stillness of the place. After a moment, she turned back to me and nodded her head toward the small bank of chairs. “Have a seat. The medical examiner will be with you shortly.”

“Thank you.” It felt important to be polite, even if this woman looked like she would rather be getting a colonoscopy than sitting behind that desk. I moved over to a chair, sitting down gingerly on it. Dex perched on a seat next to me. How many people had sat in these unforgiving, uncomfortable chairs on the worst day of their lives? I was sure the number had to be hundreds, maybe thousands. I folded my hands on my knees as I leaned on them, my foot bouncing mechanically without me realizing it. My phone buzzed in my pocket, but I ignored it. I didn’t feel like talking to anyone right now, and the stillness of the room felt like it shouldn’t be breached with something as mundane as a phone call.

Dex rested a hand on my arm, their black-painted nails chipped. “Doing okay?” they asked.

“Yeah.” I didn’t know what else to say. Of course I wasn’t doing okay.

A man with fuzzy, gray hair, wearing mint green scrubs and a white lab coat stepped out of the door and glanced toward us. “Mr. Thompson?”

I stood up too fast, my vision swimming, and I had to lean against Dex for a moment. They took it in stride, at least. “Yes, that’s me.”

The gray-haired man nodded and gave me a sympathetic smile that I was becoming all too familiar with. “I’m Doctor Morton, the medical examiner for the county. Would you please come back with me?”

Dex and I followed him. He held open the metal door, then stepped in front of us to lead us down a long hallway. “Who are you here to identify?”

I swallowed hard, trying to force words out, but the sickly-sweet air had stolen my voice. Dr. Morton turned back to me, waiting. I glanced at Dex, who, thankfully, jumped in. “His husband, Kyle Thompson. He was… in an accident last night.”

“Oh, yes,” Dr. Morton said, giving me another sympathetic look. “We have Mr. Thompson’s body covered right now. You can identify him in the room, or if you’d prefer it, you can look through the viewing window.”

That confused me, as the few times I had seen body identification on TV, the person was usually right next to the corpse on the table. For a moment, I thought maybe that would be best, just seeing him from a distance, like a television screen. But the thought of not being right next to him when he needed me most (as irrational as I knew that was) tugged at my heart, and I knew I’d regret it if I put that distance between us.

“I’d like to see him in person,” I gulped out, the words coming out a strange mix of both too loud and too quiet.

Dr. Morton nodded silently before he pushed open the swinging double doors to a room with bright overhead lights. An orderly in a set of scrubs was in the corner, glancing up at us, then going back to whatever he was doing. There was a body lying on a gurney nearby, covered head to toe with a blue medical drape. At least, I knew it must be a body, based on the general shape of it, but parts of it looked wrong. I couldn’t tell exactly what with the draping, but what should have been various raised parts of a person were not raised. I could make out feet at one end, but at the other end where there should have been shoulders and a head, the shape was odd. My stomach lurched, and I prayed to any deities that existed that I was not about to throw up. “Let me prepare you, Mr. Thompson,” Dr. Morton said, his word a little softer and calming. “There was a lot of damage done by the stone that fell. It landed nearly directly on top of him. His brain stem, here,” he lifted his hand to touch the back of his own head, “that controls bodily functions like breathing and other senses was impacted almost immediately.”

“What does that mean?” I asked. I thought I knew, but my own brain was still trying to catch up to the situation, and it was also working to suppress my surging stomach.

Dr. Morton’s smile was kind and also knowing. “It very likely was an instant death. He probably didn’t feel a thing.”

I wasn’t sure if this man was lying to me about that or not, but either way, I was grateful for the answer. If I had known that Kyle was frightened and in pain before he died, I knew that idea would haunt me.

“But because of that, the stone also did some very severe damage to his head. You don’t have to look at his face. And, to be honest, I wouldn’t recommend that you do.”

A weird feeling settled over me at that. I had been preparing myself that the last sight I might see of the man I had loved for so many years would be some sort of crushed, bloody mess. “But I need to look at him to identify him?”

Dr. Morton nodded. “Yes. It helps us to confirm the identity so we can move forward while we wait on the DNA confirmation.” I remembered Officer Landin taking Kyle’s toothbrush the evening before. “But you don’t have to look at his face to identify him. Tell me, does your husband have any identifying marks on his body? Scars, perhaps from surgery or old injury? Tattoos? Piercings?”

I shook my head. Neither of us had tattoos. I was trying to think of something else that could identify him. “Birth marks or defects?” Dr. Morton prompted. “Freckles or moles? Distinctive features you would recognize?”

“Kyle has a dark freckle on the inside of his left forearm,” I said. “And… his little toe on his right foot is deformed from when he broke it as a child.”

Dr. Morton nodded. I half expected him to just whip off the sheet entirely, like a magician doing a gruesome magic trick, but instead he only moved around to Kyle’s right side and folded up the sheet for me to see the bare right foot. The small toe was crooked, the area around the nailbed starting to turn an unnatural blue color. Dr. Morton watched my face, and when he saw the devastation cross it, he covered the foot and moved around to the left side of the gurney. He folded back part of the blue sheet, just enough to see Kyle’s arm. It was unclothed, and there was blood spattered in several places, as well as other abrasions to his skin, which was not its usual color. There was a gray tinge to it. Dr. Morton lifted the limp arm, holding it surprisingly gently, as if he were manipulating a broken limb rather than a dead one. He turned the arm slightly so I could see. There was the freckle, so familiar, yet suddenly so foreign. I knew that was him. Any lingering hopes I had had that a mistake had been made, that Kyle had disappeared and would reappear suddenly with a story to tell of aliens or mafia kidnappers, was gone. “Yes,” I said. “That’s Kyle.”

Dr. Morton nodded and set the arm down on the steel table again with as soft a sound as he could. The left hand was limp and mottled with discoloration, and there was an indentation where his wedding ring had been, but it was not there now.

“Where is his ring?” I asked, my thumb automatically moving to my own gold band on my left hand and giving it a stroke. I had worn it for so long, it felt like a part of me now.

“We removed it, along with his clothing and assets,” Dr. Morton said. “You will get all of it back after we release his body.”

“Release?” I asked, suddenly picturing myself having to carry Kyle out of the morgue like a mummy and stick him in the trunk of my car.

“To the mortuary,” Dr. Morton said. “If you want to make arrangements at a specific location, you can let the officers in charge of his case know. They will communicate that to us, and we will have them pick up the body once our autopsy is concluded. His personal things will go with him; the funeral director will be able to give them back to you.”

I nodded numbly. One more thing to think about when all my body wanted to do was fold in on itself and never get up again. “Can I… have a few minutes alone with him?”

Dr. Morton gave me another sympathetic smile. “I’m afraid I can’t leave you alone with the body, per protocol. But I can certainly step away to give you as much privacy as I can.”

It was going to have to do if I wanted to say goodbye to the man I had been with for the majority of my life. I turned helpless eyes to Dex. “Um…”

Dex gave me a nod. “I can wait in the lobby. Take all the time you need.” They turned and headed back out the swinging doors.

Dr. Morton gave me another smile and moved over to a nearby desk, doing his best impression of ignoring me. The orderly was still busy doing God only knows what in the corner of the room, still not paying attention to me either. I took the left hand that Dr. Morton had uncovered; it was startlingly cold and heavy. I supposed that was what the term ‘deadweight’ referred to. Funny how that had never occurred to me until now. It was Kyle’s hand; I could feel the familiar bones and lines and ridges of the hand I had held so many times. But it felt unnatural. Cold and stiff, inflexible. Not at all like the warm, vivacious, child-loving teacher I had known for over half of my life.

I wanted to see his face. I wanted to know that this was the man I had married. It was devastating that I had to make an identification of someone I loved so dearly from a few pieces of skin. But this wasn’t a forensic drama, with a pretty corpse spread on the table, with makeup to make them look dead but not uncomfortably so. If the doctor had covered his face and suggested I not look at it to identify him, I felt that I had to respect his expertise. But I still could not stop myself from lifting up the edge of the blue sheet near his head until I could see a little bit of skin. If it could even be called that. What I could see looked more like raw hamburger meat mashed together. I knew I had to be looking at the side of his neck, but it looked like nothing I could recognize. I quickly dropped the sheet back in place. My imagination ran wild enough; it was better to remember him as he was when he was alive.

I put my hands gently onto the area of his torso. He was curled a little, and I could feel that some of the bones and things beneath the skin did not feel like they were supposed to. Even without the warmth and tension that a living body had, this didn’t feel like a human form. I was sure that Dr. Morton could tell me exactly what happened in medical terms, but I didn’t need to know. I didn’t want to know. I didn’t need the precise details to know that I was not going to get my husband back.

I went back to holding his hand, running my thumb over where his ring no longer sat. I could see and feel the indentation of it, and I just kept stroking that. My tongue was heavy in my mouth. My head was full of everything and nothing. There were so many things I wanted to say, but I also realized that it didn’t matter. Kyle was gone; if the afterlife existed and he could hear me, he could hear me whether I said it now or later. I didn’t know what to say or how to say it in this cold, unfeeling room, surrounded by strangers. But I also would not get to hold his hand ever again. I might not even see him again, the little I could see of him now. Even though we had been together for over 25 years, I still found myself studying the marks on his skin as if I had never seen them before. Wrinkles and tiny freckles and the indentations of his nail beds suddenly became the most important thing for me to look at. I had to memorize every little piece of him. It had only been overnight, but I felt like I was already starting to forget. The sound of his voice, his laugh, the feel of his arms around me, his lips kissing my ear.

The room was cold, and the hand I held was cold, and my body felt like I might never be warm again. Like I could just curl up on the table next to him and freeze to death. I knew I couldn’t just stand there forever. Dr. Morton had work to do, and I did too. I had… My mind was blank. There was probably so much I needed to do, and I could think of none of it. I ran my thumb again over where his wedding ring had been removed. The funeral director would give it back to me. Yes, that was what I needed to do now. I needed to arrange his funeral.

I lifted his heavy hand to my lips and pressed a gentle kiss to the back of it. It would have to be enough. “Thank you,” I said to Dr. Morton, my voice husky as tears threatened to blind me.

Dr. Morton nodded and gave me a kind smile. I turned and left the icy room with its scent of chemicals and death, back to the lobby where Dex waited.

They smiled at me when I appeared, the same smile Dr. Morton had given me. I had a feeling I was going to see that smile a lot. Dex led me out into the sunshine, which at least made me feel less like I was standing in a walk-in freezer. My hands were shaking, and I told myself it was from the cold. “What do you need me to do?” Dex asked gently.

“I… I don’t know,” I said slowly. “I need to find a funeral home, I guess.”

Dex patted my shoulder. “Do you need help with that?”

I shook my head. That seemed like it might be a little too personal to involve Dex, and by extension, Jacky. “I’ll take care of it. After I talk to them, I’ll let you know?”

Dex nodded. “All right, Ruby. I’ll be at home if and when you need anything.”

“Thank you,” I said automatically. Dex got into their car and drove off, leaving me standing alone in front of the morgue. I tipped my face up toward the sunshine, the warmth spreading over my skin as tears began to fall. I quickly made my way to my car and closed myself inside before I burst into wracking sobs that shook me to my core.

They only lasted for a minute, which I was grateful for. I wiped my face on my sleeve, as I didn’t have anything else to clear it with, before I pulled out my phone. I had several text messages from various people, expressing their condolences and asking if there was anything they could do. I ignored most of them, not feeling like I could focus on other people right now. My boss from the bank had texted too, with the same platitudes, but at least he also granted me as much time away as I needed.

I googled funeral homes near me. When my mother had passed away from breast cancer, it had been a slow enough decline that she and my father had been able to make arrangements in advance. I had no first-hand knowledge on what to do. I just wanted it to be easy and over as soon as possible. The first place I called did not pick up the phone, so I tried the second one. A warm, soft female voice answered, “Blue Skies Funeral Home, this is Carol, how can I help you?”

My breath caught, and I swallowed hard. “Hi, Carol. Uh, my name’s Reuben. Would you… be available to do a funeral for my husband?” I wasn’t sure if that was the correct way to go about asking or not, but the woman on the other end didn’t seem concerned.

“I’m so sorry,” she said, sounding genuinely remorseful. “Is he already passed?”

“Yes,” I said. “He’s at the Gilmer Rock Morgue.”

“Yes, we can absolutely take care of that for you,” Carol replied. “Do you have time to come in today for a consultation?”

A few questions and minutes later, I had an appointment for that afternoon to meet with Mr. Greenley at Blue Skies Funeral Home. I drove myself home and then stood under the shower until the water went cold before I got out again and made myself some eggs for lunch. I figured I better use them before they went bad, since only one of us was in the house to eat them.

The meeting with the funeral director, Marvin Greenley, seemed to take forever, yet it passed in a blur. Marvin ran the mortuary with his family, Carol being his wife. I was extremely grateful for him and his son Calvin who joined us. My heart was set at ease when I met Calvin and found out that he was trans, and Marvin and Carol supported him fully. Even in places as accepting as Gilmer Rock, there were still plenty of people who hated people based on their skin color or their sexual orientation. Calvin reminded me of Kyle in his younger years, enthusiastic and a bit flamboyant, but also very empathetic and comforting. If he was not helping his father run the mortuary, I thought he might make a very good teacher.

There were many decisions that had to be made, more than I would have ever thought about on my own. “Remember, while the departed person is the reason for the gathering, the loved ones are who the funeral is for,” Marvin told me. “Don’t only choose things that Kyle would have liked. Choose things that are comforting to you as well.”

With his and Calvin’s help, and a plate of cookies and homemade lemonade from Carol, we made arrangements for the coming Tuesday. When I told Marvin about the accident that took Kyle, Marvin thought cremation would be better than a closed casket, and I agreed. He also gave me a checklist of things they needed from me and things that I needed to do, which I knew was going to be very helpful. My mind was still on a roller coaster, with sharp turns, sudden drops, and sluggish climbs. Until the death certificates arrived, my ability to do paperwork would be limited, so I focused on the immediate needs of the funeral.

Blue Skies had a room large enough for a service with about eighty attendees, which seemed like plenty of space. Marvin and Carol had provided me with a list of locations they often partnered with for things like catering and flowers. I didn’t want to think too hard, so I just called the first ones on the list and went with what they recommended. Kyle was the sort of person who would research all of the options and then make a list of pros and cons. I could be that person when I wanted to be, but right now, all I wanted was for things to be simple. Making any decision at all felt like trying to jump over a canyon. My financial analyst brain at least kept a running track of the expenses, and I counted myself once again lucky that it was not a huge concern with how I would pay for the funeral. We weren’t rich, by any means, especially with Kyle’s teacher salary, but we were comfortable and had some savings built up. I also figured Kyle’s life insurance would pay out at some point, as if a lump sum of money could make up for all of the years we would no longer have together. That was another place I would have to contact, and I added it to my rapidly-growing list.