And Ruin Followed Behind Her

Chapter 1-2

“WILL SHE BE CREMATED?” was the question the funeral director asked when I first entered the funeral home. Not even a hello, he just went straight to business, which part of me appreciated since I didn’t want to stay in Chandler any longer than necessary. Still, it was a funny question, especially if you knew my mother’s idea of the afterlife.

“No. She bought a plot next to my father. She wants to be buried.”

“Are you sure? Cremation is much less expensive.”

I nodded, gritting my teeth. “I’m sure that’s what my mother wants, Norbert.”

“It’s Norman,” he said.

“I’m sorry about getting your name wrong, but it doesn’t change my mother’s wishes.”

Mom believed that you couldn’t get to Heaven if you were cremated. After I came back from Hell—I died briefly when the portal opened—her views were only strengthened. Mama believed in Heaven from the depths of her soul. No matter where we went, she needed to be in church every Sunday, and pray the rosary twice a day. She believed those small acts paved her a pathway to Heaven, as if God was keeping a mental tally of how many people idolized him.

“He is, believe me. It’s the first two commandments,” she would say to me. “So, he probably takes them pretty seriously.”

My views, on the other hand, had never been more in question. I wasn’t an atheist because I knew there was something after death, though I didn’t know what waited for me. And even if there was an afterlife, I still wasn’t convinced there was a God. In any case, I refused to worship a God that would send so many of his people to be tortured in Hell.

“Very good,” Norman said. “I have already placed an obituary in the paper for her. I kept it tasteful but short to save on costs.”

“Okay,” I said, furrowing my brow. That was the second slight about money he’d made since I arrived, and I was getting tired of it. This man was lucky Mama already bought a funeral plot on his land, since it meant I was stuck working with him.

“And what kind of casket would you prefer?” Norman asked.

. “Your most expensive option, please.”

“Are you sure? We have a very nice bargain casket that—”

I c****d my head. “Excuse me? Why would you think I needed a bargain casket?”

The only reason he could have thought I needed a bargain casket was because I was black, which must mean I was poor. But I wasn’t poor. Aziolith, after I returned him to his dragon cave, allowed me take as much gold as I wanted from his mountains of treasure, whenever I wanted, to use however I wished, and so I lived the high life.

I wore expensive clothes—the dress I wore to meet with Norman cost five hundred dollars—and I pampered myself with diamond earrings, manicures, and every new skin care product that hit the market. I looked fly as Hell, and yet I still couldn’t catch a break from racists like the one across from me.

“I—I—I don’t know. I just thought—”

I pulled out a single gold coin from my purse full of them and placed it on the table between us. “My mother gets the best this gold coin can get her. I would love to stand up and walk out on you, but I can’t. My mother had a detailed will, and part of it was to be buried in your cemetery, so I’m stuck working with you. Just know, I have a purse full of coins like this one. You could have retired from overcharging me for this funeral, because money literally doesn’t matter to me. I have mountains of it laying around. I’m like Richie Rich, but you assumed I was poor, just cuz of the color of my skin.”

“That’s not why—”

“Don’t interrupt me,” I said. “It’s rude to interrupt people.”

“Sorry,” he replied softly.

“Yeah, and you should be. Cuz instead of retiring, you are going to live the rest of your life kicking yourself for making an assumption about me. Now, let’s wrap this up. Then, I don’t want to hear another word out of you, got it?”

Norman dropped his eyes to the floor and gulped loudly. “Yes, ma’am.”

*