Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle. – Philo
It hadn't been hard to convince Jeff to turn over the funeral planning to the Conlon boys. He'd even agreed to donate a good amount of the money for the expenses without being asked but Tommy had refused it. He didn't want Jeff to have any part of laying Penny to rest. The money they would have spent on the rehab was going to more than cover her simple burial. There was no other family to contact, Jeff and his family had been her only living relatives.
Brendan had come back as promised; he was staying in Tommy's apartment with Tess and the kids. Currently it is just the two brothers sitting at Heather's kitchen table; all the women have gone out to order flowers for the graveside service and to buy a dress for Penny to be buried in. Tommy and Brendan have a grim task ahead today; they have to positively ID the body so it can be released to the mortuary and prepared for interment.
"Look Tommy, it's no problem. I can go by myself and take care of this."
"Nah, I appreciate it but I need to do this. Besides, she was so different than what you remember you probably wouldn't recognize her," Tommy mumbles and then feels like a moron. According to what Heather had been told no one would recognize her after the ten story free-fall head first into the pavement.
"Well, we'll head that way as soon as they get back with the clothes for her," Brendan says, clasping Tommy's hand from across the tabletop. "So uh, do you think…" Brendan mutters, looking down at his hands, "do ya think we should invite Pops to the service?"
Tommy's head snaps up and he struggles to focus on Brendan's face. "Why?"
"Well Tommy, because he knew her too, he watched her grow up and he was good friends with her parents all those years." Brendan's shrugging and Tommy can tell that he's afraid of causing a blow up.
"Paddy Conlon ain't, and never has been anyone's friend. He didn't watch no one grow up because he couldn't focus on anything but a bottle of booze and taking his anger over his shitty life out on his wife and kids," Tommy keeps his voice down and his tone cool but he can feel his face flaming with anger.
"Did I ever tell you what my final straw with Pops was?" Brendan asks softly.
"No."
"Well, you know, I'd kept him at a distance after I moved out and married Tess. I called him when I ran off and got hitched; I called and told him about the first pregnancy and then again when the baby was born. I don't know why I felt the need to report my life to him. I guess maybe it was my own way of letting him know that he never got the best of me, that he never broke me. Later on, when I would call him, he always sounded sober and like he had his shit together on the phone, each time more so than the last. So when we were planning the Christening for Emily, Tess and I decided that we would call and let him know. I wasn't planning on inviting him…" Brendan sighs loudly and stands up from the table. He pushes his chair in and stands behind it with his hands on the ladder back. "The night before the ceremony he called me, saying he wanted to know where he could bring a little gift for the baby and I told him to mail it. He didn't say much and that's about when I realized that he had been digging for an invitation that I just couldn't give him."
Tommy rubs his face, he's not sure why Brendan insists on telling him all of this; he already knows what a bastard their father is.
"The next day was amazing, not a cloud in the sky and the ceremony was beautiful. Emily was the best baby; she never cried, not once. Afterwards we go home for a little get together, just me, Tess, the baby and Tess's family and who's sitting on my doorstep but Paddy Conlon. Old, drunk, Paddy Conlon and man, he's pissed. He has this box with him that looks like a pack of mutts had trampled it and he flings it at me as soon as I came up the walk. I could smell the alcohol pouring off of him before I even got close. He screams that he is "my father" and has "every right to see his granddaughter get saved by Jesus fucking Christ", all in front of Tess's super religious parents. Then he swings at me."
"Shit," Tommy swears, shaking his head.
"Oh but it gets worse. He swings at me so slow that I have time to sidestep him. He ends up staggering around and he falls into Tess and knocks the baby out of her arms. Tommy, I swear I could have killed him in that moment. I wanted to but he was pathetic and all I could think about in that next second was making sure that Tess and Emily were okay. I had Tess's dad call the cops and they came and hauled him off. I didn't see him again or even talk to him on the phone until the night he came to tell me that you were back in Pittsburgh."
"And how is this supposed to make me want to include him?" Tommy says sarcastically, shaking his head in exasperation.
"Because Tommy, I've forgiven him for the pathetic old drunk that he used to be. I'm not betting the farm that he'll stay sober forever but while he is, I can't ignore that he's trying. Maybe it would be good for you if you tried too. You two were always closer to each other than I ever was with him."
"Maybe that's why it's harder for me to forgive him, yeah? But you're not saying anything I haven't heard before." Tommy says in a voice that is sedate and low. How many times can he ignore what he's hearing? This is the same thing Heather had said to him the night before.
"I'll make the call, but only if you say it's okay. Who knows, he might not even come."
Tommy looks past Brendan out into the daylight being framed by Heather's yellow daisy curtains. "Yeah, go ahead. What's a funeral without some family drama anyway?"
88**88**88**88**88**88**88**88**88**88**88**88**88 **88**88**88**88**88**
Morgue.
It wasn't that long ago that Tommy had walked past this sign on his way to the cafeteria to talk about saving Penny. The sterile green continues from the hallway into the office area, the smell of antiseptic overpowering to the nose. Even with Brendan by his side Tommy would rather be anywhere than here, anywhere at all. There were a million ways this played out in his mind as he'd thought endlessly about being a knight in shining armor for his childhood friend; and yet none of his mental musings ended up with Penny deceased.
The young man behind the desk looks morbid and well suited for the job. He is thin and dark; he reminds Tommy of a male Winona Ryder circa the Beetlejuice era of her career. His eyes are humongous perched atop of a pinched nose and a shrewd looking mouth.
"Can I help you?" He finally asks, closing the folder he'd been pretending to read while making them wait.
"We're here to identify Penny Denton and to bring her burial clothing," Brendan answers, not trying to disguise the frustration in his voice. Apparently Tommy's older brother had also noticed this asshole's ploy and isn't having any.
"You're the next of kin?"
"Her only living relative has given us..."
"Unless you're next of kin I can't allow you to view the body." Looking back down at his desk dismissively, the man does his best to ignore Tommy and Brendan. That shit is just not going to fly.
Looking at the man's nametag Tommy discovers his name is Andrew. Tommy reaches across the desk and picks up the thick metal clipboard from in front of the man. Glaring at Andrew, he bends it in half until it breaks and then clips a piece of paper to the upper part, handing it back to the now shaking moron.
"Do I have your attention now? My name is Tommy Conlon and this here is my brother Brendan. That paper there gives us the right to ID Penny, her name was Penny, not the body, and to take care of all her burial preparation. I'd appreciate it if you took your little emo grudge and shoved it up your narrow emo ass. I ain't done shit to ya and neither has my bro but all that can change if you don't do your fucking job."
"Hustle, mother fucker," Brendan says from behind Tommy and Andrew nods, looking even paler now that they've scared the shit out of him. The man is gone in ten seconds, leaving the brothers alone in the cold waiting room.
"You think he's calling the cops?" Tommy asks, laughing as he turns to Brendan.
"If he's smarter than he looks he is," his brother says, patting him on the shoulder.
"Ain't it funny how people turn out because of shit that gets done to them?" Tommy looks at Brendan as he sits down roughly into one of the ugly forest green chairs.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, that guy probably got the shit kicked out of him repeatedly by meatheads like me and even though he doesn't know me personally he reacted that way because I probably reminded him of what he's been through. Of course I didn't give him any reason to think of me differently just now…"
"Yeah but Tommy, the guy was being an asshole."
"True, but he's probably a decent guy who's just reacting the way he's been conditioned. Like that, oh you know Palmolive's dog or whatever."
Brendan bursts out laughing to the point that his face is red and he's gasping for air.
"What? What's so fucking funny?" Tommy asks, not feeling getting laughed at in a time like this.
"Pavlov… it's Pavlov's dog, not Palmolive," Brendan gasps, "Palmolive is dishwashing liquid."
"You know how I know you're pussy-whipped? You know the name brands of dish soap," Tommy's laughing now too.
Both brothers turn their attention to the sound of someone clearing their throat; it's Andrew and he motions for them to follow him into the morgue. The laughter ceases as they stand at the same time. Tommy lowers his head and follows on Andrew's heels. He leads them into a cold room with the classic wall drawers you always see on TV shows. Andrew walks over to one that is about waist height to him and starts to pull the handle. Clearing his throat again he pauses to speak before opening the drawer.
"Your friend sustained heavy facial damage because of the way she fell and, um, landed. I doubt you'll be able to use that as identification and to be honest it might be best if I covered that area to save you some… trauma. There are a few tattoos' that will probably assist you in identifying her and once that's done all we need to do is sign the release, receive her personal belongings, and then you're free to go."
As Andrew turns to open the drawer, Tommy reaches out and puts his hand on the guy's shoulder. Andrew jerks away, looking back with absolute terror etched into his gaunt face.
"Whoa there…" Tommy says, pulling his hand back, "I just, let me apologize for the way I acted out there. I know you're just trying to do your job and I shouldn'ta done what I did. That's all…"
"Well, um, thank you Mr. Conlon," Andrew stammers, not looking any less ill at ease. He turns and opens the drawer, it slides out noiselessly and Tommy can't make himself look for a minute. When he does he sees that Penny is zipped up inside of a large black vinyl bag.
"If you'll give me a second I'll use a sheet to maintain her modesty and to cover the facial injuries."
The brothers nod and turn their heads as Andrew does his respectful best for Penny and her childhood friends. "Okay, she's covered," he says when he's finished.
Looking down at all that remains of a life so hopelessly wasted, Tommy notices the same lime green nail polish that he remembers from seeing her wearing when he visited her in the ER. Any little shadows of doubt that maybe it was all a mistake or some cruel joke are erased. Tommy's heart sinks as he realizes the gravity of it all in that single moment. Penny's gone she's really beyond his reach and any help or solace he might have been able to provide her.
"You, you uh said something about tattoos?" Tommy stammers, unable to take his eyes away from the chipped paint on her fingernails.
"Oh, yes, she has two; one on the left shoulder and one on the right iliac region." Andrew says, reaching for the sheet. Looking closely, Tommy fights the urge to gag as he see's deep bruising mottling her skin around and beneath the script. EX TENEBRIS LUX it says in a simple font. Tommy has no idea what it could mean. "Here is the other one."
T.C. 1/29/84 enclosed inside of a heart. He knew exactly what this one meant. By the way Brendan clutched his shoulders he did as well.
"Yeah, that's Penny," Tommy mutters, his voice monotone and his brain feeling as if he might flat line any moment. The tattoo is his initials and the date he left with his Ma. His heart feels as if it's wrenching in half.
"I really am sorry for your loss," Andrew whispers, zipping the body bag closed and sliding Penny back into the darkness of the closed drawer. "I know you probably think I have to say that but I don't."
"We appreciate it man, we really do," Brendan answers and they all turn to go back to the front desk.
Fifteen minutes and about fifty signatures later Tommy and Brendan have arranged to have Penny's remains transported to Evigan's funeral home for burial preparation. They decide against a formal viewing since she had no family opting for a simple grave side service instead. Andrew had turned over to them a small bag containing Penny's belongings. There wasn't much, just her clothes, a purse, some jewelry and a pair of shoes.
"Is there anything in there with her address on it?" Brendan asks as they climb back into the minivan. The day is hot for midwinter, the inside of the van making Tommy break into a cold sweat. Digging through the purse he pulls out all the typical things one might find inside. A compact mirror, some cosmetics, old movie ticket stubs; finally he finds a wallet.
Opening it up he digs through old receipts, about thirty bucks in ones and fives; and then her driver's license tucked away behind some coupons. The Penny in the picture looks like the same one he last looked at laying in a hospital bed. Gaunt, haunted; her image projects nothing but pain.
"Oh for fucks sake," Tommy growls.
"What?"
"According to this she was living in our old house."