Inter-Office Relations

The air was heavy with the scent of toner. The copy machine constantly lit up, green light spilling aganist the wall. In the corner, a coffe machine spat brown sludge in a steady rhythm to the ringing phone. The carpet was a puce green, a startling contrast to the peach walls. The only word to describe such a room would be ghastly, which is exactly what Renata thought as she was ushered inside.

"This room is gorgeous," she tried her hardest to emit some emotion into her empty compliment.

"Isn't it, though?" said Garrett, Renata's newest employer. He seemed like the kind of man who would like a vomit-colored 8x12 room. Like prison, only the toilet was in an ajoining alcove. "So, your desk is over there, and I'll be in my office if you need me, Renee."

"It's Renata," she began, until it was clear there was no point. When she answered the ad to be a secretary working for the prestegious company, she assumed an office was included. That was before she found out the "prestegious company" was actaully a funeral home. Apparently they weren't kidding when they say the dead have no rights.

She poured herself a cup of "coffee", sat down at her "desk", and began to work. She talked on the phone to grieving families, ordered flowers, and listened to clergy until she began to feel her own heart failing. Garrett made an appearance around noon.

"Productive morning?" he smiled.

"Very. We have a wake coming up this afternoon, a body being shipped over a two, and a family is coming to the showroom at three." she noted vaguely that she sounded like a used car salesman.

"Excellent. When you work with the dead, I believe you will find that you get feister! Keep up the good work, Rebecca!" he gave her the thumbs-up and walked out.

Suddenly, the coffins next door didn't look too bad.

Renata's days passed in a flurry of condolences and snotty tissues. She found herslef longing for that old job at the library. At least there she had something to take her mind off the fact that she was miserable. At Wilkenson's Funeral Services, if she wasn't thinking about her minimum wage cash flow, she was thinking about dying. The smell of death became as commonplace as the coffee. Then there was Garrett.

"You being a Wilkenson's team player today, Rachel?"

"Yes, sir. I wouldn't have it any other way." Which was true. If she wasn't working for Garrett, he'd be removing blood from her veins.

It was a custom of Renata's to stop at her mom's house after work every day. Josie lived on top of a cheap pizza parlor in Little Italy, and it was a rule that you couldn't leave without reeking of garlic.

"Rena, you need to lose weight! You are beginning to look like a fat pig! Did you get the Botox email I sent you?" Thus began each evening.

"I got it Ma, thanks. Work is great." Thus began her answer each evening.

Renata's father passed away when she was just a kid from cancer, but her mother was a strong woman. A cantankerous, stubborn woman, but strong at that.

Their relationship was complicated, to say the least.

"Ma? You home?" Renata was stopping by as usual after work, only to find her mother not at home. She walked through, a strange and choking feeling creeping up her neck. "Ma!"

"Rena, honey calm down!" she heard Josie giggling like a school girl from the bedroom.

She ran to the room, terror turing to relief, turning into horror when she saw her mother drinking wine-with Garrett.

"Hey there, Rae, my girl! I was just telling Josie here about your great work ethic!" Garrett's cheeks were flushed, a grin across his face.

"You know, I always have gone for younger men!" Josie said, winking horribly at Garrett.

Renata left as fast as she could.

The next morning at work, she couldn't will herself to look Garrett in the eyes.

"You ready to play for team Wilkenson today?" he asked.

She stared at the man who was five years older than her who had had sex with her seventy-two year old mother and smiled.

"I wouldn't have it any other way, Sir."