The Perfect Holiday
Kenny was a Cowboys fan, too. His wall was covered in posters, along with framed certificates he’d gotten from school because he was so smart. Beta Club, History Club, Chess Tournament, Spelling Bee, Math Olympics… Kenny was smart. Way smarter than me. I studied them for a moment, then turned away with tears in my eyes.
Poor Kenny.
Smartest kid in school.
Loved by all.
His father’s favorite son.
Dead because of me.
I quietly left the room and closed the door behind me.
Kenny’s death was the one true regret I would never be free of because it was my fault. If there really was a God I would be dead and Kenny would be alive. I would have traded places with him right then and there if I could have. But as my Uncle Seth would say, “If people in hell were granted wishes they’d all be drinking ice water.”
* * *
“Yes, I want her cremated.”
The skinny man in the dark suit sitting on the other side of the funeral home de
sk frowned again and held out the burial policy he’d been showing me for the past fifteen minutes. “But, Mr. Mavic— “
“Captain Mavic,” I shot back. “Mr. Mavic was my old man.”
He kept frowning as his eyes grazed across my shoulders as if he was looking for some indication of rank on my black t-shirt. I guessed he was used to dealing with grieving families and assholes like me. He cleared his throat and forced a smile. His teeth were the color of ash.
“Yes, well, Captain Mavic, your mother had a policy that covers a casket, flowers, service and burial.” He held up the piece of paper again and tapped a skinny finger to my mother’s chicken scratch signature at the bottom. “Everything is paid in full. All you have to do is pick out a casket within the policy range, the spray of flowers, the headstone, and we’ll do the rest.”
“I want her cremated,” I said again.
“Well, yes, I know you keep saying that, but…”
I held up a hand and his mouth snapped closed. I leaned into the desk and narrowed my eyes at him. He leaned back in the chair as if the weight of my gaze was pushing him. “How much did my mother pay for that policy you’re holding in your hand?”
His Adam’s apple bobbed as he fiddled with the policy. “Well, let’s see… the total investment… was two-thousand-five-hundred dollars.”
“And how much do you charge just to cremate a body and dispose of it?”
“Well, that’s around two hundred dollars.”
“So, if you do what I’m asking you to do, you’re twenty-three hundred dollars to the good.”
His tongue darted across his thin lips like a snake testing the air for the scent of something to eat. “Well, yes, but we do not offer refunds on burial policies, Mr.— er— Captain Mavic.”
“I’m not asking for a refund,” I said, putting my palms on his desk to push myself out of the chair. “I’m telling you to cremate the body and do away with the ashes. You can keep what you’ve been paid.”
“Oh… well… yes, then that’s not a problem.” He opened the desk drawer and took out another form and slid it across the desk and held out a pen. “If you’ll just sign here I’ll get that taken care of today.”
I signed the form and handed back the pen. As I started for the door, he cleared his throat yet again and held up a stiff finger.
“Captain Mavic, don’t you want to at least see your mother’s body?”
I paused at the door for a moment with my hand on the knob. Without turning around, I shook my head, opened the door, and left him sitting there with his mouth hanging open and a tidy profit in his pocket
* * *
Uncle Seth called just as I got back into the car. I tapped the phone and Uncle Seth’s voice came through the speakers.