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Aug. 5th, 2013 01:37 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
loloteheArlene had been informed the body would arrive that afternoon. A high-profile case, it would be viewed by hundreds of people over several hours. There would be a full, open-casket service, requiring more space than she could provide in her tiny—although intimate—establishment. The examiner had only released the body that morning and the family wanted the service the next day. It would need to be done quickly and done well.
Normally, that sort of attention and speed would not have been done cheaply, but it was family.
Libby and Gilbert were busy with clients most of the morning, so she didn't pass on the information until the arrival. "She was a public woman," Arlene said. "And this is to be a very public service. We will not be holding it here, but we've been asked to tend to matters as...duty."
Libby stared at the black plastic. "The chef," she said, with some pain.
"Yes." Arlene grasped the opening. "Her name is Asabi."
It was Gilbert who cried out when Asabi's face was uncovered—not the reaction Arlene had expected from a professional. He covered his mouth and quickly looked at the ceiling, holding himself tight with the free arm, turning slightly back and forth, as if rocking himself to sleep.
Libby had stiffened, her arms terminating in tight fists at her thighs. Her eyebrows were unsure if they should frown or raise and flickered between the two, unable to decide where to rest.
"The eyes are sunken," Arlene said. Leaning over the body, she lifted one eyelid with her thumb. "Ah, as I expected. They've dried. We'll need some filler here. I don't think we can wax it." She continued to open the bag, revealing more and more body as she went.
The jagged Y evidence of an autopsy looked like the standard on a breastplate. Arlene ran her fingers along the staples. "There's no spray for this, is there? We go our whole lives without scars. We live in a world without scars, but what's left for us at the end? There's a marker for forever." She tapped the staples with her fingers. "We know who's team you're on, now."
"Mom, I can't do this." Gilbert had turned his back. "I can't. I'm sorry. She's too much like— I mean—"
"If you want this..." Arlene almost whispered it. "If you want this, you will have to do it for me. I won't be able to. You never heard me complain about the children I prepared while you were growing up. I never scared you away from every cause that brought us a client."
Libby was standing very still, as if her immobility could hide her from the horrible truth of it. She betrayed her location by chewing her bottom lip and blinking rapidly. Her breaths were shallow and quick.
Arlene had the bag fully open now. "Gilbert, I'll need your help here. If you could lift the shoulders...?"
He turned, eyes red and puffy. "I can pull the bag," he finally said. "I can...I can do that."
They did just that, the mother lifting her twin-like sister's body from the table, her son pulling away the thick, black, plastic bag it had arrived in. The mother's daughter standing to one side, silent, sinking, looking at what could be her mother's body on the table.
Libby finally found enough breath, somewhere deep inside, but enough to say, "Mom?"
"Gilbert," Arlene said. "Take your sister out of here before she hyperventilates or passes out. Either one is an option at this point."
"Yes," he answered, but stood clutching the bag like a security blanket. "Yes, I will," he promised, unable to move. "I'll do that," he said.
Arlene walked over to her son and gently took the bag from him, folding it half-way before laying it on another table. She took his shoulder and pulled him towards his sister. Then, taking Libby's shoulder, she turned her daughter away from the body on the table.
She turned her children away from the sight of her sister's body.
Holding them tight, she placed her head between her children. "Someday, you may have to do this for me. Someday, you may have to do this for your father. You're still young and that's a long time from now. Very soon, though, we're going to have to do this for your grandmother and that's going to be almost as hard.
"For now, though, get me some clothes and a casket. A case has arrived with the clothes. Gilbert, make sure they're re-stitched for what we need. Libby, the casket should be one of the Duat models in midnight with gold flecks and white silk interior. Make sure it has the imperial hardware. I will wash the body and handle the face. It will be covered when you return so we can finish the job."
She hugged them again. "As a family."
Gilbert took Libby by the shoulders and led her from the room. Arlene returned to the body on the table.
Asabi had never been tall. She was the same height as her sisters, as all thirteen of them. None of them had ever been "tall", but more earthly, squat creatures. They were square and close to the ground, made for work and struggle and a low center of gravity.
Arlene held her sister's hand. They all had those broad, square hands with broad, square fingers. Turning the hand over, Arlene examined the palm for some sign of what had happened. She held her own next to it for comparison. No, the lifeline was the same on both. It curled under the thumb, missing any marks to stop it. The callouses were in slightly different locations.
"Holding a knife is nothing like holding a knife, hum?"
Broad shoulders. Everything about them had been broad. Wide. Steady.
And how long ago had it been they were in the gym? On the iron rings with such stiff majesty? Maybe the pommel horse and the delighting grace of a spin, a spin, a turn, a step, a launch...
"We were the strong ones. We were the ones who got things done."
The disappointment Arlene felt in her children sat in her belly like molten rock, heavy and hot. "How could they turn away? How could they say they 'couldn"t'? We don't' say that! If there is a thing to do, we do it. We do not turn away from duty!"
They're all upset. What should we do?
You look like me. I look like you.
The answer's very plain to see.
I look like you...
You look like me.
She snaked out the hose to wash the body, holding a cloth in the other hand. Starting at the feet, she worked in slow, steady circles.
There was a single, bloody fingerprint in Asabi's left armpit. Arlene frowned at it for a full minute before washing it away.
"Do you remember how we used to chant? Do you remember that? We were one force then, working as a single entity. We had a job to do. We did it. We got back and got ready for the next one."
Asabi had never been tall, but her body stretched on forever. The length of it was numbing.
"Remember laundry duty? Oh, you hated that. I remember you hated that so much. You swore you'd never do it again, given half the chance."
There was some wax-treated cotton, useful for raising sunken things. Arlene rolled a ball in her hands. "Remember those little gray-haired freaks? You know, one of them lost an eye once. They made a new one for her, but it was never right." She slipped the ball of waxy cotton in Asabi's left eye-socket and started to roll another "And you remember when Evie had to get new ones? Oh, that was a show, I heard. She cried and moaned and wouldn't do it until one of those twins said she would. That changed it there." The second ball went in. Asabi's face started to look more life-like.
"How do you feel about that?" Arlene asked the corpse. "One of those twins is in charge now. Not so stupid after all. But the squid helped out there, didn't they?"
The mouth needed to be stitched shut. The jaw was already starting to loosen.
"You always preferred the kitchen though, didn't you? It meant you got to be with Becca. Poor Becca. Good Becca. It's good those kids follow her. Maybe, they'll teach everyone more about how to get along. You had that, though, didn't you? You had that bit of Becca."
Asabi's body looked slightly bloated under the harsh lights.
"You were from the second seven." Arlene leaned over the body, her face so close to the other's. "You were the improved model. You never had to deal with what we went through before."
The eyes were set, and the mouth. Now, it was just a matter of make-up and hair. Arlene carefully combed the corpse's hair and noticed several gray hairs. No. She found her tweezers.
"Our sister has started a war," Arlene said. "And it will be up to our sister to stop it." She collected the gray hairs on a wet towel. "And maybe our sister will profit from it in some way." Again, she lightly brushed the autopsy Y.
"We say 'cousins', but really, we're all sisters. We all had the same parents."
The make-up was very easy to apply. It was like doing it in a mirror, but with more base.
"Did it ever bother you," Arlene asked, "To see them fail the way they did? How Aideen had her three sons and a successful military career, while Acadia never got past sergeant and drank the rest away? You know Annora takes care of abandoned children, right? And what did your ilk do? Anaba is running a cosmetics company! Why, yes. I'm using some right now. Of course we fought with you. We felt like a test run and you were a finished product. You never said it, but you were better."
Asabi looked completely at ease. Her face belied no pain nor discontent.
Arlene laid a hand on the raw wound across Asabi's stomach. It had been hastily stitched—just to close it—and would not be seen once the body was clothed.
"I hated you the moment I laid eyes on you," Arlene said. "You were made to replace me. I hated your chess and your laughter and your ability to cut an onion."
The flesh was puckered under the stitches. This work had been done by someone other than the examiner. Someone with no idea what they were doing. Arlene recoiled at the substandard work. "When you loved me as a sister, I hated you even more."
The face was done. Hopefully, by now, Gilbert and Libby had collected the clothes and casket. They were taking their time, obviously, or were waiting for their mother to call them in. The signal would be hers and she would set that time.
With a light, dry, washcloth, Arlene covered Asabi's face. "I've got too much Evie in me. I recall her sister more than Becca's. How lucky you were that you never had to remember that."
Normally, that sort of attention and speed would not have been done cheaply, but it was family.
Libby and Gilbert were busy with clients most of the morning, so she didn't pass on the information until the arrival. "She was a public woman," Arlene said. "And this is to be a very public service. We will not be holding it here, but we've been asked to tend to matters as...duty."
Libby stared at the black plastic. "The chef," she said, with some pain.
"Yes." Arlene grasped the opening. "Her name is Asabi."
It was Gilbert who cried out when Asabi's face was uncovered—not the reaction Arlene had expected from a professional. He covered his mouth and quickly looked at the ceiling, holding himself tight with the free arm, turning slightly back and forth, as if rocking himself to sleep.
Libby had stiffened, her arms terminating in tight fists at her thighs. Her eyebrows were unsure if they should frown or raise and flickered between the two, unable to decide where to rest.
"The eyes are sunken," Arlene said. Leaning over the body, she lifted one eyelid with her thumb. "Ah, as I expected. They've dried. We'll need some filler here. I don't think we can wax it." She continued to open the bag, revealing more and more body as she went.
The jagged Y evidence of an autopsy looked like the standard on a breastplate. Arlene ran her fingers along the staples. "There's no spray for this, is there? We go our whole lives without scars. We live in a world without scars, but what's left for us at the end? There's a marker for forever." She tapped the staples with her fingers. "We know who's team you're on, now."
"Mom, I can't do this." Gilbert had turned his back. "I can't. I'm sorry. She's too much like— I mean—"
"If you want this..." Arlene almost whispered it. "If you want this, you will have to do it for me. I won't be able to. You never heard me complain about the children I prepared while you were growing up. I never scared you away from every cause that brought us a client."
Libby was standing very still, as if her immobility could hide her from the horrible truth of it. She betrayed her location by chewing her bottom lip and blinking rapidly. Her breaths were shallow and quick.
Arlene had the bag fully open now. "Gilbert, I'll need your help here. If you could lift the shoulders...?"
He turned, eyes red and puffy. "I can pull the bag," he finally said. "I can...I can do that."
They did just that, the mother lifting her twin-like sister's body from the table, her son pulling away the thick, black, plastic bag it had arrived in. The mother's daughter standing to one side, silent, sinking, looking at what could be her mother's body on the table.
Libby finally found enough breath, somewhere deep inside, but enough to say, "Mom?"
"Gilbert," Arlene said. "Take your sister out of here before she hyperventilates or passes out. Either one is an option at this point."
"Yes," he answered, but stood clutching the bag like a security blanket. "Yes, I will," he promised, unable to move. "I'll do that," he said.
Arlene walked over to her son and gently took the bag from him, folding it half-way before laying it on another table. She took his shoulder and pulled him towards his sister. Then, taking Libby's shoulder, she turned her daughter away from the body on the table.
She turned her children away from the sight of her sister's body.
Holding them tight, she placed her head between her children. "Someday, you may have to do this for me. Someday, you may have to do this for your father. You're still young and that's a long time from now. Very soon, though, we're going to have to do this for your grandmother and that's going to be almost as hard.
"For now, though, get me some clothes and a casket. A case has arrived with the clothes. Gilbert, make sure they're re-stitched for what we need. Libby, the casket should be one of the Duat models in midnight with gold flecks and white silk interior. Make sure it has the imperial hardware. I will wash the body and handle the face. It will be covered when you return so we can finish the job."
She hugged them again. "As a family."
Gilbert took Libby by the shoulders and led her from the room. Arlene returned to the body on the table.
Asabi had never been tall. She was the same height as her sisters, as all thirteen of them. None of them had ever been "tall", but more earthly, squat creatures. They were square and close to the ground, made for work and struggle and a low center of gravity.
Arlene held her sister's hand. They all had those broad, square hands with broad, square fingers. Turning the hand over, Arlene examined the palm for some sign of what had happened. She held her own next to it for comparison. No, the lifeline was the same on both. It curled under the thumb, missing any marks to stop it. The callouses were in slightly different locations.
"Holding a knife is nothing like holding a knife, hum?"
Broad shoulders. Everything about them had been broad. Wide. Steady.
And how long ago had it been they were in the gym? On the iron rings with such stiff majesty? Maybe the pommel horse and the delighting grace of a spin, a spin, a turn, a step, a launch...
"We were the strong ones. We were the ones who got things done."
The disappointment Arlene felt in her children sat in her belly like molten rock, heavy and hot. "How could they turn away? How could they say they 'couldn"t'? We don't' say that! If there is a thing to do, we do it. We do not turn away from duty!"
They're all upset. What should we do?
You look like me. I look like you.
The answer's very plain to see.
I look like you...
You look like me.
She snaked out the hose to wash the body, holding a cloth in the other hand. Starting at the feet, she worked in slow, steady circles.
There was a single, bloody fingerprint in Asabi's left armpit. Arlene frowned at it for a full minute before washing it away.
"Do you remember how we used to chant? Do you remember that? We were one force then, working as a single entity. We had a job to do. We did it. We got back and got ready for the next one."
Asabi had never been tall, but her body stretched on forever. The length of it was numbing.
"Remember laundry duty? Oh, you hated that. I remember you hated that so much. You swore you'd never do it again, given half the chance."
There was some wax-treated cotton, useful for raising sunken things. Arlene rolled a ball in her hands. "Remember those little gray-haired freaks? You know, one of them lost an eye once. They made a new one for her, but it was never right." She slipped the ball of waxy cotton in Asabi's left eye-socket and started to roll another "And you remember when Evie had to get new ones? Oh, that was a show, I heard. She cried and moaned and wouldn't do it until one of those twins said she would. That changed it there." The second ball went in. Asabi's face started to look more life-like.
"How do you feel about that?" Arlene asked the corpse. "One of those twins is in charge now. Not so stupid after all. But the squid helped out there, didn't they?"
The mouth needed to be stitched shut. The jaw was already starting to loosen.
"You always preferred the kitchen though, didn't you? It meant you got to be with Becca. Poor Becca. Good Becca. It's good those kids follow her. Maybe, they'll teach everyone more about how to get along. You had that, though, didn't you? You had that bit of Becca."
Asabi's body looked slightly bloated under the harsh lights.
"You were from the second seven." Arlene leaned over the body, her face so close to the other's. "You were the improved model. You never had to deal with what we went through before."
The eyes were set, and the mouth. Now, it was just a matter of make-up and hair. Arlene carefully combed the corpse's hair and noticed several gray hairs. No. She found her tweezers.
"Our sister has started a war," Arlene said. "And it will be up to our sister to stop it." She collected the gray hairs on a wet towel. "And maybe our sister will profit from it in some way." Again, she lightly brushed the autopsy Y.
"We say 'cousins', but really, we're all sisters. We all had the same parents."
The make-up was very easy to apply. It was like doing it in a mirror, but with more base.
"Did it ever bother you," Arlene asked, "To see them fail the way they did? How Aideen had her three sons and a successful military career, while Acadia never got past sergeant and drank the rest away? You know Annora takes care of abandoned children, right? And what did your ilk do? Anaba is running a cosmetics company! Why, yes. I'm using some right now. Of course we fought with you. We felt like a test run and you were a finished product. You never said it, but you were better."
Asabi looked completely at ease. Her face belied no pain nor discontent.
Arlene laid a hand on the raw wound across Asabi's stomach. It had been hastily stitched—just to close it—and would not be seen once the body was clothed.
"I hated you the moment I laid eyes on you," Arlene said. "You were made to replace me. I hated your chess and your laughter and your ability to cut an onion."
The flesh was puckered under the stitches. This work had been done by someone other than the examiner. Someone with no idea what they were doing. Arlene recoiled at the substandard work. "When you loved me as a sister, I hated you even more."
The face was done. Hopefully, by now, Gilbert and Libby had collected the clothes and casket. They were taking their time, obviously, or were waiting for their mother to call them in. The signal would be hers and she would set that time.
With a light, dry, washcloth, Arlene covered Asabi's face. "I've got too much Evie in me. I recall her sister more than Becca's. How lucky you were that you never had to remember that."
