Grace’s office door swung open, and the woman with the square glasses ushered me inside. I found Grace standing behind her desk. Her hair was piled on top of her head, held together by a mass of bobby pins. She looked like the bohemian art teacher I’d had in elementary school, a woman who wore sandals in the dead of winter and talked to us about the transcendent sensuality in Picasso’s early reclining nudes.
“Tess,” she said. “Welcome to Greener Pastures.”
“Thanks,” I said. “It smells gardeny in here.”
“We have a scent made for us,” she said. “With cacao. That’s probably what you’re smelling.”
“Maybe,” I said.
Her office was just like the rest of the space. Sleek. Accents of wood. Green things budding from every surface.
“I’m afraid I only have a short time,” Grace said. “I have to meet a family for a home ceremony this evening.”
“You’re having a funeral in their home?”
“It’s one of our services.”
I sat down in an uncomfortable chair across from her.
“Why would anyone want to do that?” I asked. “It sounds depressing as hell.”
Grace wasn’t fazed. She just sat down and adjusted a bobby pin.
“Tess,” she said. “I think one of the reasons we’re so scared of death in this country is because as soon as someone dies, the body is taken away and pumped full of chemicals. There’s no direct contact with the dead anymore.”
“Maybe that’s a good thing.”
“I’m not so sure. We used to be better at this. The body would stay with the family so they could wash and dress and care for it. They could have time alone with it to grieve and come to understand what happened.”
I couldn’t help thinking about Jonah, and the fact that I had never seen his body, let alone touched it. I had barely seen it when he was alive.
“But maybe it’s okay not to see it,” I said. “Maybe it would just be too hard, you know? Maybe you’re forcing people to do things they don’t want to do.”
“I don’t force people to do anything, Tess,” she said. “I give them options.”
The woman with the square glasses came in and poured two cups of coffee in glass mugs and then disappeared behind a nearly slammed door.
“Your assistant is a real people person,” I said.
“Oh, Morgan’s okay,” said Grace. “She just knows who you are. That’s all.”
I took a long drink of coffee.
“And who am I exactly?”
“She’s heard the story. She doesn’t think I should be staying in contact with you. She thinks you’re going to sue me or something.”
“So she thinks I’m mentally disturbed?”
“Well, you did jump in a freezing lake with all your clothes on.”
I tried not to laugh, but the image was suddenly too ridiculous. A lone chuckle escaped.
“Listen, Tess,” she said, her face getting serious. “It’s a little weird between us. I can deal with that, okay? But I just want to tell you something before you go.”
“I’m listening,” I mumbled.
“I know you’re mourning someone,” said Grace.
