He shrugged. “I’ve done it before,” he said, his voice serious and quiet, but not ragged.
“Mr. Mays?”
We both turned as Denise called my name.
“Yes?” I asked.
“You—can come back. Dr. Fisher is done with his phone call.”
“Go ahead,” Elliot said. “You finish up with him, and I’ll call the funeral homes and get one on board.”
I blew out a breath. “Thanks.”
But the minute I walked back into Fisher’s office, I knew something was wrong. His pale face was blotchy and red, and he looked extremely flustered.
“I—I’m sorry, Mr. Mays,” he began, although he didn’t sound particularly sorry. He sounded pissed off. “There has been a… dispute concerning the rights to your mother’s body.”
“A. Dispute.” At first, I was confused, but then it started to make sense. The Community was unlikely to let Momma’s heretic children claim her body.
“Yes. I—I’m very sorry, Mr. Mays, but?—”
“It’s fine,” I interrupted him. “I’ll contact a lawyer.” I stood. “I appreciate your time.”
I turned and left, and although I heard the slight scrape of chair legs on the linoleum tile floor as Fisher either pushed back his chair or stood up, I didn’t turn around again. There wasn’t anything he could do about it, anyway.
I walked back out into the sunshine, blinking until my eyes adjusted and I could see Elliot’s familiar silhouette. He turned to me with a sheepish expression. “The soonest I can get is next week,” he said.
“That’s fine,” I replied. “There’s a dispute, anyway. That was the phone call.”
“Dispute aboutwhat? The police don’t want to release her?”
I shook my head. “He didn’t say, but I’m guessing the Community is trying to claim the body.” It was a little weird to call my motherthe body, but the person she had been wasn’t in it anymore, and I wasn’t entirely certain I cared what happened to her remains anyway.
“That’s bullshit,” Elliot hissed.
I shrugged. “I mean, as far as they’re concerned, she was more a part of their family than mine and Noah’s,” I pointed out. “She lived with them. We left.”
Elliot studied me. “You’re not upset about this?”
“Not really,” I answered honestly. “I don’t… feel the need to say goodbye or anything.” I shrugged again. “It’s not like we could resolve any unfinished business.”
“Did she say in her will what she wanted?” he asked.
I grimaced. “I suppose I need to ask Humbolt if she left some sort of directive.”
“Next stop, Humbolt’s office?”
“No, next stop coffee,” I countered. “Humbolt’s office after that.”
As it turned out,Mommahadleft instructions to be buried next to the sister I’d never met. Humbolt began working on filing all the necessary paperwork to make sure that happened—regardless of who was actually responsible for the burial itself. He’d asked if I wanted him to fight for custody of the body, and I’d told him not to bother.
I wasn’t religious, so I had no need of any particular service to be done, and Momma herself might have appreciated whatever the Community wanted to do. Or she might not have, I didn’t really know. If she’d started trying to work around them—and, clearly, she had, since she’d visited Humbolt—maybe she didn’t want them doing it.
I asked Humbolt, but he said she’d only stipulated the where, not anything else.
Elliot and I were sitting in a booth at a Mexican place that had bright teal walls and a rainbow flag sticker in its window, which was a welcome relief from worrying about stares, at least for me. I was pretty sure Elliot never worried about stares or judgment. I envied him that a little.
I had fajitas with both shrimp and chicken, and they easily left the dairy—cheese and sour cream—out, giving me a generous helping of guacamole instead. Elliot had something absolutely smothered in queso. There were also chips and salsa, and I was making up for the fact that I hadn’t really eaten much the day before at all. Most of my sandwich box was still in the hotel fridge, despite what little I’d picked out of it being fairly tasty.
