The attendant

I’ve always had outstandingly good eyesight. In fact as a child I used to wave to people at a distance and get annoyed when they did not wave back. I’ve always found people hard to read. In this city no one talks much to no one. The subway was packed this evening, folks stood shoulder to shoulder with one another. Cramped in, pretending the others sharing the stale air did not exist.

No such problem in this job, they just lie out on the slab. Lifeless, motionless, and yet all their former actions are betrayed too me. This one has dirty finger nails and nicotine stained hands. He is younger than me but he won’t grow any older. Hours spent in down town bars and at Jimmy steak house have made him fat, but he has the look of a family man he had not been unloved for all his physical imperfections. He looked a man of modest income but these cuff links looked like they had been saved for.
Embalming is an ancient art its history lost to antiquity. I never meet this man in life but it is now my chance to do what he evidently failed to do for much of his existence, take a special care of his appearance.

I catch sight of myself in the mirror, I need a shave. My eyes have dark circles round them from too many late nights. The hour rack up in this job I feel like I’ve not seen the sun light for months. The radio rattles in the other room. I have to check the chemicals cabinet. This one won’t take that long. The preservative process is half finished and I’ve not even started the treatment yet. His cholesterol filled arteries have given him the pale flesh tones it often takes several hours to affect. Its the opium addicts and hop heads I hate doing, two nights work most often creates a back log.

Usually an open coffin takes up a whole evening and part of the next morning. This guy is lucky to be in experienced hands. I much prefer the night work. I don’t have too hear all that bullshit about the dearly departed echoing down from the upstairs. It not like I don’t feel for the families but I get tired of hearing Mr Hales sales pitch.

I take pride in my job, they’re not departed till I’ve done with them. Families do not wish to consider the fragility of existence over an ill turned out cadaver. More care is taken over the dead in this house than is taken over the living in this city.
I like listening to the radio, the performers sound so lively between the static.
The Radio has died I’ll never know whether Tim and Nancy got back together now. Oh well only six hours now till sun up, only nine till I can sleep almost as soundly as this guy. I can hear the rain hitting the guttering outside. Maybe the radio will start again after the storm passes over?