6

"I'm not hungry, Mom,” Aanders said, pushing the plate with the uneaten chicken aside. Rotating the base of his milk glass against the counter top, he watched the white liquid swirl until it became motionless.

"Don't worry about it.” Nan picked up her son's plate.” I'll put it in the fridge. You might want it later.” The ringing of the phone cut across her words.

Aanders crossed to the counter as the phone rang for the second time. “Harren Funeral Home."

The two-bedroom mortuary apartment made a shoebox look large, but Aanders had grown to love it. They had moved into the apartment after Nan 's divorce. His mother installed a second phone line in the apartment to handle business calls after countless attempts at running from the apartment to the office had failed. Aanders knew his mother wanted to house hunt, but she told him the convenience of being on-site to run the business as well as the luxury of not having house payments was too good to pass up. Thoughts of relocation had been placed on hold.

While his mom and dad were still married, Nan had contracted with the University of Minnesota to provide internship opportunities to mortuary science students. She had added the apartment to the mortuary to house the students. Aanders’ dad hated the apartment and called it an unnecessary extravagance. The apartment now made Nan 's financial burdens easier to tolerate.

Aanders watched his mother jot directions on the scratch pad she kept by the phone. Slowly, his gaze wandered to the basement door.

Nan folded the sheet and patted Aanders’ arm. “I'm going to change and then I've got to retrieve a body at the nursing home. Will you be okay by yourself?"

"Yeah,” he said, without meeting her eyes.

Nan lifted his chin with her fingers. “I want you to promise you won't go downstairs. I don't want you to see Tim till I've prepped his body.” Kissing his forehead she added, “We'll have our own private viewing when I get back."

A tear rolled down Aanders’ cheek. Nan brushed it away with her thumb. He leaned sideways to escape her hand. He didn't want to cry.

"I'm taking your silence as a promise.” Nan lifted a black suit off a hanger and retreated toward the bathroom to change clothes. “I'll be back as soon as I can.” As she reached to close the door behind her, Belly whined and made a feeble attempt to scratch behind his right ear. “Take that dog back to Sadie's while I'm gone. Why don't you ask Mr. Bakke to show you his new fishing rod? He bought it this morning. Maybe he'll let you try a few casts off the end of the dock."

Nan emerged from behind the door wearing a midi-length black skirt and a sleeveless white shell. Aanders watched her slip into a black jacket.

Aanders pressed the garage door opener while his mother climbed into the driver's seat. He waited as she propped a clipboard against the steering wheel and transferred the address from the note to the document on the clipboard.

"How long will you be gone?"

"I'm not sure. Maybe an hour. Two at the most."

As Aanders walked back into the kitchen, Belly let out a pleading whimper. Aanders brushed the dog aside with his foot. “You big fatty. You know he's down there, don't you?"

Belly circled in excitement, his toenails clicking against the floor. Raking his claws against the door's panel, the dog looked up at Aanders in anticipation.

"I can't let you go down there. Mom would kill me. Besides, I promised I wouldn't go down there.” Clapping his hands together to get Belly's attention, Aanders insisted, “You heard what Mom said. I'm supposed to take you back to the cabin."

Belly lifted his chin and let out a piercing howl.

Aanders reached for the doorknob, but pulled back.

The four black hairs at the end of Belly's tail gyrated as his entire rear end swayed in excitement. When Aanders reached for the knob a second time, Belly began to pant.

A tiny sliver of darkness appeared and cool air wafted from the opening. Belly pulled at the panel with his paw. The door swung wide.

"Belly,” Aanders shouted. “Come back here."

The sound of Belly's claws hitting the wooden stairs echoed from the opening before he landed with a grunt on the basement floor.

Shouting into the darkness, Aanders again said, “Belly. Get back up here right now. You'll get me in trouble."

Whimpers and barks of enthusiasm emanated from the shadows in counterpoint to the sound of his nails against the hard tile floor.

"You dumb dog. Come here right now.” Aanders placed a foot on the top step and strained to see past one of the nightlights twinkling in the darkness. “Right now. I mean it.” Reducing his voice to a whisper, he repeated the dog's name and lowered his foot down another step. His finger twitched against the light switch.

The brightness momentarily blinded him and he waited for his eyes to adjust. He peered toward the embalming room. Unable to locate the dog, he whispered, “If you don't come here right now, I'm going to get mad. Belly? Did you hear what I said? Belly?"

A sharp yip caused Aanders to flip the switch off and hop toward the top step. He turned his ear toward the sound. “Are you okay down there?” He wiped his palms against his pants, waiting for the next sound.

Excited panting and more toe clicking enticed Aanders into turning the light back on. One by one, he descended the stairs. Whispering the dog's name, he continued to encourage Belly out of the embalming room. “I can't go in there. You have to come out. If Mom comes home now, she'll kill both of us. I mean it. We'll be really, really dead."

Growing fearful his mom would return and the receiving bay door would rise to expose him and the stubborn dog, Aanders grew more insistent. He approached the embalming room door. He snapped his fingers and crouched to Belly's level. “Come here boy. I've got a treat for you.” The enticing offer usually did the trick, but Belly ignored the suggestion. His gyrating tail kept his rear in motion all the way back to the far corner of the room.

Belly put him in danger of betraying his mother's trust. The simple mission to find the dog and hurry upstairs before he saw the Fossums’ bodies grew daunting. Two embalming machine lights blinked rhythmically casting an eerie green hue. The ceiling light from the hall adjacent to the embalming room added to his ability to recognize items as he gingerly moved forward.

A long, narrow embalming table stood in the middle of the room flanked on both sides by a bank of stainless steel cabinets. The back wall featured a massive, steel door. The door led to a walk-in, refrigerated storage bay containing two sliding body trays. Each tray pulled out and retracted for easy access. Because the cold-storage unit currently held two bodies, Nan had placed the third body on the embalming table in the center of the room.

Aanders spotted Belly in the corner of the room, pawing at the air. “There you are. Come here, you dumb dog.” Aanders’ hand brushed against the cold foot of the body lying on the steel table. He let out a gurgled cry. He backed away from the table and bumped against a cabinet causing steel tools to clank noisily against a metal pan. Another cry rose from Aanders’ throat. He looked over his shoulder at the body on the table.

There he was. Tim Fossum. His best friend.

A white sheet covered Tim's body. Three of Tim's fingers protruded from beneath the edge of the sheet. The sheet clung to the boy's body, elevated by Tim's nose and his rigid toes. It looked like one big glow-in-the-dark lump, reflecting a green hue from the embalming machine.

A guttural wail rasped from Aanders. Sensing his legs about to give out, he grabbed the edge of the table and hung on. Nausea spasms rose in his throat. He had often helped his mother lift the heavier bodies when she was unable to manage them by herself, but no amount of exposure to mortuary procedures could have prepared him for the inconsolable loss he experienced. His friend was dead. His friend who he could tell anything to was lying next to him. Gone forever.