A COVETED PRACTICE By Emily Chmielewski
His face was emotionless, long sweeps of tan makeup rested just above his skin, a shoddy attempt at masking the translucent flesh that lay underneath. Somebody somewhere was very proud of their masterpiece, but to her he looked like some sort of haunted ventriloquist dummy. A botched paint by numbers that consisted of only the best of CVS’s cosmetic aisle. The waxy layer was so thick that it had started to settle on his forehead in a way that reminded her of a 5th grade science experiment. Why did it have to be an open casket? Something about seeing the dead masquerade as the living was unsettling. In Melanie’s opinion, nothing was better for a grieving family than seeing the dead as they were… dead. Dressing a corpse up like some plaything was a coveted practice in the funeral business. No detail was too small; from the gentle spray of Chanel No. 5 that covered the smog like reek of decay, to Revlon's “Red Hot Rio” that covered brittle, yellow nail beds. They would even go as far as rebuilding facial structure, and, had the canvas been living, the mortician’s putty would have resembled the victims from House of Wax . An open casket ceremony had a way of playing into an acquaintance's worst nightmare. Susan’s son, Jim from work, or that really sweet guy that lived in 24B was preserved in the way you had always seen him. Except this time, small talk was the least of their worries. “Were you close?” An earnest voice asked from the fold out chair to her left. Melanie kicked her black kitten heels on the linoleum absently, more interested in the tacky floor tiles than any conversation this man could’ve made. It was a funeral after all, why couldn't he go back to the expected pack driven grieving? To her dismay, he took the painful silence as an invitation to
