Fiction Short Story

The Writer's E-Zine Home

Writers' Village University - F2K: Free Fiction Writing Course - ePress-online
Writers' Village University Membership Information

Fiction Short Story

by Linda Williams

Auntie Red

The phone shrilled.

"Hello, Vickie's Beauty Shop. This here's Vickie speakin'." She expertly balanced the phone between her ear and shoulder. She continued to tease her customer's hair into a huge fluff ball, pumping the chair another couple of inches higher with the foot pedal as she multi-tasked.

"Vickie, this is Marion Beals; I'm Auntie Red's niece. I don't know if you remember me or not ..."

"Why, shore! I remember you; honey. What can I do for ya?" Vickie drawled in her thick-as-cream Kentucky accent.

"I'm afraid I have some bad news. Auntie Red passed away in her sleep last night; she had a massive coronary."

Vickie's voice immediately dropped a few octaves from lively to reverent.

"Aw, I'm so sorry to hear that. Auntie Red came in every Thursday. She's had a standin' appointment with me for years."

"That's why I'm calling you. I know she would have wanted you to do her hair for the viewing at the funeral home. She always loved the way you took care of her. She spoke very highly of you."

"Well, I don't know. I'm probably not the best person for this type of work." Vickie's skin crawled.

"I know it's a lot to ask, but if anyone else does it, she's just not going to look natural. The family would be willing to pay you much more than your usual fee, if you could find it in your heart to take care of poor old Auntie Red just this one last time."

Vickie heard a sob and a sniff.

"I don't know..."

"Please, I know she would be eternally grateful..." Stifled sobs and the sound of nose blowing.

Eternally?

"How much more?" She asked.

"How about $200.00?"

"And all I have to do is fix her hair?"

"Well, we were hoping you could do her makeup and put her jewelry on, too? If it's not too much trouble." Little hiccups and sniffles.

"Ouch! You're hurting me!" Fluff ball yelped from the chair.

Shut up you old bat; I'm makin' a business deal here.

"Sorry about that," Vickie said, easing up a bit with the rat-tailed comb.

Marion sniffed again, "You mean, sorry you can't do it?"

"No, no, I wasn't talkin' to you. I guess I can work it in. When do you want it done?"

"Tonight at eight o'clock. The funeral director said that would be the best time, since no clients will be around at that hour. He stays late. The viewing begins tomorrow at noon. I'll have my niece drop off the makeup and jewelry this afternoon at your shop. The body's over at White's Funeral Home. Do you know where that is?"

"I know where it is. I'll be there at eight," Vickie said. Am I really this hard up for money?

"All right then, Mr. White will be there to let you in; just knock on the side door and he'll take care of you when you get there." Marion said.

"I'll be there."

"Thanks a million, Vickie. Good-bye."

Vickie arrived at the funeral home at eight o'clock as promised. She knocked at the side door as Marion had instructed and Mr. White showed her to the refrigerated room where the body lay. Auntie Red was trussed up like a Christmas goose; her face was a pallid gray and she didn't have a stitch on.

So much for dignity.

"Here are all the items you'll need to get her dressed, Vickie. The family dropped off the clothing earlier today. I'll be in the embalming room downstairs. When you're finished you can let yourself out the same door you came in. It locks from the inside when you close it."

Get her dressed?

"Now, just wait a pea pickin' minute here. No one said a word about me dressin' a corpse!"

"Well, you're just going to have to take that up with them. We charge extra for makeup and hair styling, as Marion well knows. Dressing a corpse is a two-person job. I was told you were taking care of all this. I hope you have someone coming to help you." The funeral director's tone was worse than snotty. He felt sure that Marion had struck a much cheaper deal for these services with this amateur standing before him and was miffed at the loss of revenue.

Vickie thought, Pricklet! You don't even deserve to be called a full-fledged prick . . .

"Wait up! Hey!" Vickie's voice echoed back toward her as the metal door snapped shut behind him. Now she was all alone with Auntie Red. Dead, naked, gray-skinned, flabby, old Auntie Red.

She must weigh three hundred freakin' pounds!

Vickie took out her cellular phone and punched in Marion Beals' number. She picked up on the third ring.

"Marion, this is Vickie. What's the deal here? The funeral director just showed me a pile of clothing and said I'm to be the one to dress Auntie Red..."

"That's what you agreed to during our phone conversation." Marion didn't sound nearly as bereaved as she had earlier.

" I said hair, makeup and some jewelry; that was all!"

"Well, I'm sorry if you misunderstood..."

"I didn't misunderstand a damned thing! I don't know how to dress a corpse! The funeral director said it took two people to do it."

"Oh, now dear, I'm sure you'll figure it out. How hard can it be? How about I give you an extra fifty dollars? Poor Auntie Red would be mortified if she knew we were having this conversation."

Mortified? That ain't the half of it.

"Fifty bucks?" Vickie echoed.

"All right, I'll make it seventy-five."

I wasn't aware we were negotiatin'. Maybe she's right, how hard could it be? I really do need the money.

They finally came to an agreement and ended their phone conversation.

Vickie opened the bag that had been dropped off earlier that day at her shop. She set the cosmetics and jewelry on a stainless steel table adjacent to Auntie Red's gurney. There were several matching sets of costume jewelry for her to choose from and plenty of eye shadows, blush and other makeup. She hung the clothes over a chair, taking inventory. There was a blue dress, an enormous bra, panties that looked big enough to be used as a bed sheet, a pair of support hose, two garters and a pair of shoes.

You've got to be shittin' me! Like she really needs a pair of shoes?

At first, she was tempted to omit what she deemed unnecessary clothing but decided against it. No need for her to supply them with an excuse to screw her out of the money she was to earn in case they found out. Where do I begin? Should I dress her first or put on the makeup or do her hair?

Rigor mortis had come and gone. Auntie Red was flaccid as boiled pasta; since she was to be cremated immediately after the viewing, she wasn't embalmed. Vickie shivered as she picked up one of her cold, floppy hands; she dropped it quicker than if it had bitten her.

She decided to try dressing her first. She mustered as much courage as she could and put the bra over the front of the old woman's chest, imprisoning her boobs. She worked the strap under Auntie Red's back and tried to roll her over so she could fasten the hooks. Vickie barely managed to shift her enough to get one of the six hooks fastened. She was sweating in spite of the cold room as she wrestled with the corpse.

Good enough...to hell with the rest of 'em!

It took four hours to dress her, put on the makeup and style the flaming red hair. She'd been born a redhead and her skin was rife with freckles from toes to forehead.

Vickie chose a pair of blue earrings and a matching necklace, which complimented the dress perfectly. She fastened the necklace and then tried to insert the posts into the corpse's ears. There was a tiny dot on each ear and Vickie assumed that the holes had grown together.

What the hell, she can't feel anything.

She forced the earrings through both ear lobes; this completed the last of her duties and she was finally free to leave the mortuary. She couldn't get away from Auntie Red fast enough and vowed all the way home to never repeat the experience.

The next morning, she received a phone call from Marion.

"Well, how did it go?"

"It was real," Vickie replied sourly. Flashbacks of Auntie Red on the gurney had allowed her zero sleep.

"By the way, which jewelry did you select for Auntie Red?"

"I used the blue posts with the matching blue necklace. They worked well with the color of her dress."

"The blue ones? What blue ones?"

Vickie described the jewelry in detail to Marion.

"Wait a minute! That's my jewelry! I must have left it there the last time I visited her. Besides, those are for pierced ears. Auntie Red never had her ears pierced!"

"Well, they are now."

Copyright © 2004 Linda Williams

About the Author
Linda Williams is a long time resident of Southern California. She runs a home based business which allows her the time to pursue a career in writing. She has lived in many parts of the United States and spent 15 years on the island of Guam working as a real estate broker.