ephemerality and wall posts
Carl took a seat at the back of the viewing room after helping himself to a Dixie cup of punch. Jeff had been the second person at work to die in the last three weeks. First had been Irene Palmerston from QA and her heart attack. Jeff, a DBA, had fought valiantly against a testicular cancer that had metastasized. There had been an apologetic email sent out to the office. The funeral home was a ten minute drive from work and Jeff’s family had scheduled the viewing on Friday during business lunch hours. Carl had played poker with Jeff a couple times over the years at company casino nights and had stumbled across the urge to pay his respects. He’d worked with Irene every day for three years but hadn’t gone to her funeral and there hadn’t been a viewing. People were always dying and being born and he hadn’t wanted to ask for time off.
The room had the subtle chemical scent of new carpet and chlorinated flower bouquets that gave Carl a headrush. He’d avoided the body on his way in and had so far done his best to avoid noticing it at all. All around him strangers, Jeff’s family and friends, were filling into the room with somber shoes and napkins of finger food, taking seats, checking their smartphones and pagers and shushing their children. Carl checked his watch then took out his Blackberry to check the time while he waited for the service. He posted a message on Jeff’s Facebook wall, ‘RIP buddy, office won’t be the same without you.” His watch and his Blackberry were one minute apart and the incongruity was unsettling.
Tony arrived just before the service was about to begin. He was wearing earphones and said Hello as he sat down next to Carl.
“Jesus Tony,” Carl said.
“What?” Tony said. His face twitched and he took out the earphone on Carl’s side. “They’re not on, I just leave them in when I’ve got my phone with me,” he said.
“Besides,” Tony said. He looked over at the corpse in the coffin, “Jeff would have wanted it this way.” He paused and put the earphone back in as the service began.
Carl’s Blackberry was vibrating again but he ignored it. It wasn’t alone; like a fury of garbled hymns the mobile devices in the room all seemed to vibrate at once as the service progressed. Jeff’s widow made a short speech before she was overcome by tears. When she had sat down again her eight year old son looked up from his Nintendo DS and gave her a hug. She sniffed and wiped at her eyes then regained her composure with a deep breath.
After the speeches Carl and Tony stood up to pay their respects. Tony still had his earphones in but nobody seemed to notice. Carl refilled his Dixie cup and took a butter tart and napkin. The vibrations of his Blackberry were giving him vertigo. Jeff lay in the coffin, looking more ebullient than when he’d been alive. All the bloating and delirium had been kneaded from his face, the heavy bags drained from under his eyes. Under those latexed eyelids Carl thought his eyes would still be bloodshot, but if they’d hooked up his chest cavity to a cycling air compressor nobody would have thought to look. Tony put his hands in his pockets and rocked on his heels with a mouthful of unspoken words. Carl finished his butter tart and stared at Jeff’s body with the frenetic interest of a science fair exhibit. Jeff’s widow shuffled over, introduced herself and said, Thanks for coming. Jeff was a great guy, Carl said, The office was really going to miss him.
Jeff’s widow left and Carl checked his phone again. Six people had Liked his wall post. The phone shook in his hand like an angry grub, another message reminder.
He walked out of the viewing room and went outside, mistaking his sweat for rain. But the sun was out in almost unbearable force and he wiped his forehead, then trembled for a bit and reached for his Blackberry. He felt dizzy and checked his messages. It wasn’t work, it was the veterinarian’s office. His dog had died. He’d been struck by a car the day before and hadn’t pulled through after the surgery. Carl called the veterinarian’s office.
“Sorry to hear about Descartes,” the vet tech said.
“Oh,” Carl said. Yes, they could donate the body to science, and thanks for the hard work.
He hung up and stared at the keys on the phone for a while before Tony came out and lit up a cigarette. He’d taken his headphones out and they stood there for a while in silence, looking at the row of hearses baking in the sun like silicon wafers.
“He was fuckin’ stupid anyway,” Tony said.
Carl’s Blackberry vibrated again but he didn’t pick up.
