It's Called Tomorrow

six

"Second chances do come your way. Like trains, they arrive and depart regularly. Recognizing the ones that matter is the trick."

- Jill A. Davis

...

"I want you to make my boy handsome," Mrs Matthews tells me, her face streaked with tear stains and black mascara.

She pats her face with an ebony colored handkerchief she's holding in her hands. The red gloves she's wearing matches well with the prints on her lilac dress.

She's a pale woman with her blond hair put up in a chignon bun, and I must admit she has the same eyes as her son—blue and a sort of mystery that lies behind them.

I glance at Mr Matthews who's standing beside his wife in the chair, looking at me rather strangely. Is it his eyes? As far as I can tell, he looks nothing like his son.

They don't share any resemblance as far I can see, his features worn and round, and their eye colors are different—his brown. And besides the color, Mr Matthew's eyes just don't radiate with this warmness that I've known to come from Bodhi.

Behind Mr Matthew's glasses lie beady and emotionless eyes laced with a strangeness that I've seen before—the thing is I just can't put my finger on it. I wouldn't be surprised if this empty man was well-liked by many people in this town as that's how it seems to go for people like him.

Obviously, he hasn't shed a tear for his son. I wouldn't be shocked if his tear ducts were as intact like velcro and sandpaper coming together.

Grace, what are you doing? I scold myself for judging Mr Matthews so harshly. People grieve in different ways, some people don't start crying until... until it really hits them. But out of everyone I've consulted with, I have to say Mr Matthews behavior is just strange.

He seems annoyed at his wife's crying by the way I've seen him roll his eyes behind those spectacles of his, maybe more often than not. He's not even trying to be subtle about it, either.

What's his problem?

I shake my head.

"Of course," I reassure Mrs Matthews. I'm tempted to comfort her in the best way I can, to tell her that I know what it's like, but something is holding me back.

Is it Mr Matthews and his staring?

"They say your sister is the best in the business," Mrs Matthews says looking straight at me with her azure eyes, having dabbed the streaks of mascara off from her face. "Especially in a male-dominated field."

She sort of laughs at the end.

I throw her the most earnest smile I can muster.

She's right.

There aren't that many female undertakers.
"She'll make him handsome," I lay my hand over hers which she now has placed on the table. "I promise."

That's all she needs to hear, cuz she smiles, and it's real cuz this time the smile reaches her eyes.

...