She was awakened by the phone ringing. The sun was well up outside, so it wasn’t too early. Who would be calling her? She hoped it wasn’t Winston. It was a customer for the cemetery. The son calling to make arrangements for his father. The son and sister wanted meet with her. She invited them out to the office on the grounds. The apartment was looking even worse than the first night. She had planned to spend today getting rid of things and making it livable. She got herself presentable instead. She needed some longer skirts, but at least she had black. She would sit behind the desk. She needed groceries too. A piece of toast would have to do. The truck started right up, though she still had to fight with the stick. She had to drive back downtown to find her way. A map would be a good thing too. She managed to get there ahead of them.
She looked under their name in the files and found three different folders. She was wishing for coffee as she took them to the desk to sort out. There was very little that made sense here. There were a couple of sale receipts with different names on them. Nothing said what plot was used and what wasn’t used.
They arrived as she was organizing the folders. The son was maybe her age and his aunt looked seventy. He was wearing a suit, but it fit him awkwardly or he was awkward in it. He kept pulling on one sleeve. The old lady was in one of those leisure suits that was an odd color. She invited them to sit down.
“I’ve got to be honest with you,” Daydee told them. “I’ve just arrived in town two days ago and I need to get a handle on things. Tell me what you are expecting, and that will help me figure things out.”
“Well, “ the aunt said, “The funeral is for Saturday. Goshen’s Funeral Home is taking care of it, so you can call them for the details. We’re having a honor guard from the VFW coming to do a three rifle salute. My brother was in the South Pacific you know.”
The son handed Daydee a couple of papers he took out of his jacket pocket.
“My mother had purchased the marker and two vaults along with plots. There’s a number of our family here. “
“Thanks.”
Daydee found paper and a pencil in the drawer and wrote down all the details from the receipts.
“Now, you’re going to think I’m real stupid, but will you show me where the plot is?”
“My mother bought it,” the son said. “She would know. We were hoping to take care of things for her.”
“How about you show me where your other relatives are and I’ll figure it out.”
They all walked out and across the grounds. She could fell the man’s eyes all over her.
“Where did you say you were from?” he asked.
“I’m from here. But I’ve been living in New Orleans.”
“That’s a pretty wild town, I’ve heard.”
They found the area and there were some empty spots nearby. She wrote down the names on the markers and walked back with them.
“If there is any question, I will call you both. Otherwise, we will be ready for him.”
“I’ll call you in a couple of days to make sure the details are correct,” the aunt told her.
“I’ve always said that if you take care of the little things, the big thing take care of themselves.”
They both looked at her as if she was from Mars.
“How about you take care of everything, deary,” the aunt told her.
She went back in and called the funeral home and got the details, called Jack, but got his wife. She almost hung up out of old habits, but left him a message instead. The wife seemed nice enough once she explained who she was. She went out to the shed to check if there any burial vaults there, but there wasn’t. The phone rang making her run back.
It was Jack. She gave the details to him about opening the grave and he promised he’d be there. He asked her to stake out the grave for him, just so there wouldn’t be any mistakes. As soon as she figured it out, she thought.
“I need a burial vault. Are they in storage somewhere?” she asked.
“Oh, your mother didn’t have any left. Last time she got Winston to drive to Terre Haute to get one.”
Shit.
“Remind Winston or me to tell the story about your mother trying to make them herself.” He was laughing.
“Funny, see you.”
She rifled the desk and found a card for a vault and marker company in Terre Haute. She called and managed somehow to order one. She could pick it up anytime. She had four days, so tomorrow would be it. She wasn’t sure how big a vault was or what it was made of. It was probably big and heavy, big and heavy enough to hold a casket for eternity. She could flirt and get them to load it on the truck. Getting it off would be another problem.
She ransacked the office. There had to be a map of the goddamn cemetery somewhere. Nothing anywhere. Going over all the records again, she drew herself a map of where the relatives were and noted their plots numbers and since the new guy was supposed to be in a plot numbered in sequence, the plot had to be next to them, but in what direction? She spent another hour enlarging her hand drawn map of the markers out there and coming back to check those peoples files to find their plot numbers. It wasn’t a help that some of the files were a mess with things noted on napkins in there. All from the restaurant where they had breakfast. Finally she was sure where the goddamn plot was supposed to be. She found stakes and a mallet in the shed and pounded them in out there in parallel to the direction of the markers nearby. By the time she was done, she was sweaty and her hands and legs were dirty and she had ripped her pantyhose. She felt like a mess. You were only supposed to work this hard with your clothes off. She went back into the office and shut the door to take the hose off. There really wasn’t much privacy. The office was all windows with no curtains. It made for a nice view, but you couldn’t pick your nose in here when people were about.
She had to be back for the accountant this afternoon, she suddenly remembered. She had brought the address of the empty house in town. She was thinking she’d wait and have Winston show her where it was, but she decided she had time to run by before going home. She only had to ask directions once, from a grandma out with a little boy. The house was in another quiet part of town. The yards here were huge, so there was a lot of space between the houses. No fences at all. Just a lot of bushes and trees. No sidewalks and no streetlights here. The house was an odd contraption. It looked as though two had been stuck together. One was a small low farmhouse with the wide porch and the other was a two story gabled thing that may have lost half of itself somewhere. The width of the clapboard siding were different, the eves were different and the roofs were two different colors. One faded green, one reddish. None of her keys worked. She peered in the window. There were no curtains. The house was empty, no furniture, no nothing. She walked around. The keys didn’t work on the garage or the back door. A window in the back seemed not to be painted shut. There was not a sole around. The only house in view from the back of this one looked as if no one was home. The curtains were all drawn. She jostled the window and it opened easily. Somebody has been coming and going this way.
She found an old trash can out back and pulled it around and turned it over so she could climb in. She didn’t manage it very gracefully. She was glad there wasn’t anyone around to be mooned. Little tight skirts were not made for obstacle courses. She took her shoes off, so she could walk quietly. There could be someone in here she realized. The kitchen had a couple of dusty drinking glasses and a plate on the counter. There were no appliances. She found what she thought was the door to the garage, but it had a padlock on it. None of her keys worked. The living room had an old blanket in the corner and next to it was a little heroin set –up on a newspaper. The spoon and the syringe and the elastic tie off and a little candle. Even an ashtray filled with butts. But everything was covered in dust, so it had sat there a while. The newspaper had a big Spanish headline. Where on earth would you get a Spanish newspaper in town, she wondered. The house had been two houses. From this living room, you walked through a doorway that had obviously been the front door of the second house. There were little glass windows on either side, though the door and its hinges were gone. The stairs upstairs were off a second living room. There was nothing up there at all, except for one lone students chair from a classroom. It was hot and stuffy and smelled stale. The bathroom up here was filthy. She went back down. This was where her great-aunt and great-grandmother had lived out the last years of their lives. It was hard to imagine them living here. She remembered them from the farm. There were both large fat women. Unis , her aunt, had never married and had lived with her mother her entire life. She did her own plowing and harvesting and had livestock. Neither woman ever wore make-up. Daydee’s Great Grandmother had been bedridden and partially blind and partially deaf when Daydee was a girl. And the woman lived to ninety seven. She had been a school teacher, she thought, but that was before she married. She’d have to figure what year on a piece of paper when she thought of it. Unis never had anything to say. Great Grandma was always holding forth about something. Usually it was about how wonderful she was and how wonderful her family was and how it was the greatest farm on the planet and Daydee should grow up and be President some day. There wasn’t much to do if you were forced to lie around all day. Daydreams could take over what’s left of your life.
She would have to come back with a crowbar and find out what was hidden in there. She didn’t believe that there would be anything valuable, but there might be some family secrets. She went out the way she came in, leaving everything undisturbed. She needed to get back for the accountant.
She had time for lunch, another bologna sandwich, and a shower and a do. She straightened up the living room and kitchen. And threw everything into the bedroom and shut the door. That would have to be figured out if he wanted something else besides a business meeting. Men were too easy. John was only one that she had known in years that was hard to figure out. Her very last client had been an alcoholic printer. John Seegum. He had stuck around after all the other guys had faded away. She had reached the magic age- when the clients go looking for younger women. He was an attractive man, full head of hair and muscles. But he was serous drunk. He paid her to just keep him company, and they seldom had sex. He had those black stained fingers that printers had; the ink after so many years never came off. She didn’t mind. He was kind and delicate with those dark hands. He read books and could recite things to her. He would get sloppy drunk and stand in the middle of his little apartment and sway and wave his arms to a Brahms record. He could be goofy too. He called them Matt Dillon and Miss Lily. Drinking coffee with the shakes in the morning, he’d say he had to make it to Dodge one more time.
He was in jail now. When Winston called, she was thinking about finding a waitress job.
Mark was at the door. She let him and had him come sit on the couch.
“Would like a cup of coffee? Or a soda,” she asked.
“No. That rum looks good, but I need to get back to the office later.”
She sat down beside him and he laid his papers out on the coffee table and then went through the last several years of the corporation’s life. The corporation being her mother’s assets. He showed her the expected farm revenue and how much everything was bringing in and went over the regular expenses. And ended up on the tax returns for the last five years. About forty minutes later, she was up to speed and it was all business. This was good. He wasn’t condescending. He didn’t act as if her questions were stupid. It was apparent however that her mother had been losing money for the last five years at about ten thousand a year. Every tax return reported business losses. Winston must have been right about the drug trafficking. They were done.
“I want you to know how much I appreciate your help. “
He eyed her. He pulled a check book out of his briefcase and handed it to her.
“I notified the bank and they have created a new account with your name on it. All you have to go down and sign a signature card and show them ID. They sent over these for you to use until you get the ones with your name printed on them.”
“I didn’t think you could open a checking account for someone else.”
“It’s easy here, everyone knows me. I do bill maintenance for some older folks that can’t remember when to do it right. The kids hire me.”
“So what do I owe you?” Daydee said, waving the check book. “I may even tip.”
“Well, I have something to ask you…”
“Ok.”
“I saw you in the French Quarter about ten years ago. You were out at club with the President of our NSA at a convention. I know his wife and their kids. They live over in Springfield.”
“I don’t recall him. You sure it was me?” she asked.
He pointed to her penny birthmark on her neck.
“All the boys in town knew everything there was to know about you. All the wild things you’d do. We all thought you were dead.”
She laughed.
“So what is the NSA?”
“The National Society of Accountants.”
“So what do you want to do, Mark?”
“I thought we could barter if that’s ok with you. I don’t have much money. I have a family. My services for a little help from time to time.”
“You know, Mark, you’re not a bad looking guy at all. I could probably go for you, but lovemaking is not something that’s going to work out with me for the long haul. I’d hate to disappoint you. And I kinda wanted to turn over a new leaf.”
“I wasn’t too interested in that right now anyway.” He hesitated. “I wouldn’t tell another living soul about you, I promise.”
“So what do you like?”
“I was looking for a little help in learning how to be a woman. It’s a small town.”
He was turning very red.
“Relax,” she patted his hand. “Let’s have a drink first. I’ll make you a cup of coffee before you go.”
She went into the kitchen and poured two rum and cokes. She had them click them in a silent toast and she closed the front drapes.
“Let me go see what I can find,” she told him.
This was easy. She knew the routine. She also knew her mother. In the bottom drawer of the bedroom, was the new lingerie her mother always had stashed for a special occasion. She gathered up some of it and brought them out to the coffee table.
“The first thing you need to do is take off your clothes,” she said.
He complied. He carefully draped his trousers and shirt over the back of the coach. He was a little saggy, but wasn’t too bad. If he worked out, he could look good. The tidy whities were the last to come off. The erection was there.
“Turn around,” she said.
She helped him into a little white baby doll nightie complete with bra and panties and the see through cover up. She led him into the bathroom by the hand, made him sit on the toilet and put a little make-up on him. The lipstick and he was more than ready. She stood him up to look at himself.
“Oh dear,” she said.”This won’t do.”
She pulled his erection out and he went off like a teenage boy. She played with it until it went down and folded it back into his panties.
“Now you will get remorseful, but in this house we don’t do that. You have to come back out and sit and talk to me and have another drink. And fold your legs like a girl does.”
“You’ve done this before,” he said.
“You have no idea.”
She brought the run and cokes over to refill their drinks.
“Your wife doesn’t appreciate this?” she asked.
“No.”
“Too bad. There’s advantages. I had one guy that would come over and clean my apartment for me.”
“That might be fun,” he said.
“Let’s remember it’s a small town. There’s not much that will go unnoticed. You want to keep your family…and I got other things I want to be doing now. But, I could use a favor tomorrow though.”
“What?”
“I need to drive to Terre Haute for a burial vault and I need some help. I could pick up in an alley somewhere in the morning and drop you back the same way. It would only be a few hours.”
“I don’t know, there’s work I need to get done.”
“You could be my girl friend for the day. We’d be out of town. Nobody would have to know. You wouldn’t even have to get out of the truck until we got back to unload it.” He was scared. “I’ll pack you some underwear to take back to the office. Just show up in jeans and a flannel shirt.”
“I should be getting back now,” he said.
“Remorse is for stupid people.”
“Ok,” he said, smiling.
He took his clothes to the bathroom to get dressed and cleaned up. She had him draw her a map to where he would meet her and she handed him a brown bag to carry off with his briefcase. She was really doubtful that he would show up, but you never could tell. The little nightie was carefully folded on the bathroom counter.
This line of work made you think ahead. She had to be ready for odd turns. She had promised, so she prepared a bag to take along in the morning if he did show up. They were like little children. If you promised a piece of candy, you’d better damn well have it to give them. Broken promises were what their bad mothers, bad wives, and bad sisters offered.
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