Freja collected the small body from the trash and carried it to a patch of ground behind the funeral home. A trail of flies followed. Not until the bird was buried did the flies disperse.
She had received a puzzling notice in the mail from Diedre Callow's daughter:
My mother has passed. She asked that you be notified and invited to attend the wake. I know this might be irregular, but it was a firm wish so I am passing it on to you. Sincerely, Andrea Callow
Freja was nonplussed when she read the note. It wasn't the sort of thing she did. Attending wakes to her was an empty exercise. People generally stood around and talked about anything but the body lying a few feet from them. However, she'd come to know Diedre Callow in the last year, as the elderly woman showed up every week for a dental appointment. Freja worked there part time to pick up extra dollars for school expenses.
When Mrs. Callow first appeared she caused a stir in the office. She was one of those elderly people who had shrunk conspicuously. Not only that, she couldn't stand up straight and had an enormous belly which made it difficult for her to fit in the treatment chair.
The elderly woman might have had the worst teeth Freja ever saw--what was left of them. The first day Mrs. Callow came in she was quite firm about her goals.
"I want a full set. Not those dentures you give people my age. I want teeth. I want them in my jaw so I can chew steak, apples, popcorn."
Freja learned over time that Mrs. Callow couldn't actually eat any of those things because of dietary restrictions. She just wanted to know she could chew them, if she wanted.
In time, Mrs. Callow became Freja's favorite patient. It was Freja's job to offer aid and comfort to nervous patients. There was little for her to do as an office assistant, besides getting to know clients and reducing anxiety in people who came for treatment.
Anxiety wasn't an issue for Mrs. Callow, although the care she required demanded extensive, invasive procedures.
"I want implants," she demanded. "Whatever it takes. And I want all porcelain. I want the whitest cleanest, most beautiful teeth anyone could have."
It was impossible to give the woman general anesthesia, or even a little nitrous oxide, because her health was so precarious. She sat through it all. Extraction of rotted teeth. Implant surgery. Fitting of crowns and bridges.
"Let me tell you, Freja," Mrs. Callow would say. "You only have so much time. You only have so much money. If you can choose how you go out, that's a victory".
The bills mounted, thousands of dollars. She paid it all as it accrued.
"My kids, I gave them everything. Cars, houses. Whatever. This is mine. I want to go out with a full set of teeth. All my life I pulled these lips over my gums because I was ashamed. Even when I was a child, my teeth were ugly."
Then the elderly woman would sit, cramped, folded, trying to accommodate the chair, the dentist, the equipment, as her rotund abdomen rose up like Vesuvius.
Freja began to look forward to those weekly visits. Mrs. Callow reminded her of a Greek hero who was on a quest, someone who never gave up.
One week, Mrs. Callow cancelled and Freja knew there could only be bad news. But the woman came back the next week with a cane.
"Damn stairs. Nearly broke my leg. They wouldn't let me come. But damn it, I'm going to finish. Going to get my teeth."
At that point it was almost impossible for her to fit in the chair. Not only was the belly in the way, but a stiff leg had to be held out straight. Didn't make a dent in her resolve. Mrs. Callow was adamant.
"Charge me what you need. Do what you have to. I want my teeth. I want my pearly whites, my big, shiny, Hollywood smile."
It took six months. Thirty thousand dollars later, Mrs. Callow had her teeth. By then her daughter was bringing her to the appointments in a wheelchair. Sometimes Freja wondered if time would betray this lady, who had become her friend. Her tenacious, indomitable, heroic 'toothsayer'.
It wasn't a surprise when the notice about Mrs. Callow's death arrived, though it was surprising that she had asked for Freja to be at the wake.
Freja refused to wear black. It was one of those rituals she disdained. She walked into the viewing room and noticed that people were standing around, and were talking, as she expected. But they weren't casual. Most of them were staring at the bier and pointing. Some of them walked up to the bier, shook their heads and walked away.
Freja made her way along the side of the room. She knew Mrs. Callow's daughter but hoped to avoid being seen. The only mission today, for Freja, was to respect the wishes of her fallen hero.
The lid of the coffin was open. Freja walked respectfullyy to the edge and looked inside. Then she did the unforgivable. She broke into a loud guffaw.
There was Mrs. Callow, looking very much like herself, but probably not like anybody else the funeral home had embalmed in its entire history. On her quaffed and rouged face Mrs. Callow wore the biggest, whitest, toothiest grin Freja had ever seen on anyone, live or dead. There it was, on full display, her Hollywood smile.
Freja's tenacious, heroic friend did indeed go out the way she wanted.
Credits
The story was written (with many smiles) in response to the Inkwell fiction prompt, fly.
The illustration at the top of the page was made (by me) with the help of a couple of programs: Make Human, Gimp, Lunapic, and Paint 3D.
Thanks to my fellow Hiveans for the end picture. I used a photo contributed by @muelli to LIL, the LMAC Image Galley, for the flowers. The bird was adapted from a photo contributed by @yaziris to LIL.
Thank you for reading my story. Hive on!
