palms cold cream

i really loved her.

my cousin, chris, and i were standing in the foyer of the viewing room when a woman approached us and smiled. she was about my age, wore a black suitish type outfit, but didn't seem to be one of the people who had come for the service. she didn't quite fit in, mostly because she was white. last i checked, there were no caucasian people in my family, save for my newly-acquired, always somewhat confused looking jewish stepfather, and she wasn't he.

"is that your grandmother?" she asked with a smile, motioning towards the casket. chris and i looked at eachother for a brief second and nodded. who was this woman?

"you know... i didn't know your grandmother, but... i can tell by meeting everyone in your family and seeing how much everyone cares for eachother that she was a very loving woman. it really shows that she shared her love with everyone."

ah. it made sense now. this woman worked for the mortuary. for some reason i was distracted by her black barrette which parted her hair to one side in a somewhat dorky fashion.

"umm... thanks so much," i didn't know if this was something that she told every family that came through, or if she could really tell that my grandmother was as good as she told us. even if it was all bullshit, this woman was totally right. our lola (tagalog for grandmother) was possibly the absolutely most loving person i could ever have the opportunity to know. i'm sure this woman saw weird things happen at funerals all the time. estranged family members coming together to pay last wishes and fights happening during these emotionally intense times... my mind started to wander.

"yeah..." she continued. her voice trailed off for a bit as she nodded for a second, looking towards lola.

"she has great skin," she added.

"excuse me?"

"your grandmother has great skin. when i worked on her, i was really impressed with how wonderful her skin is," it quickly dawned on me that this... was the mortician.

"uhh... really?" i stammered with a loss of words. totally speechless. i racked my brain to try to figure out how to interact with the mortician that worked on my grandmother.

"your aunt told me that you work in the movies? in special effects?" she asked, smiling and nodding, looking me right in the eye. i nodded back, completely struck dumb.

"you know, i really think that what i do here must be a lot like what you must do!" she said, obviously excited to talk shop. i could tell that she thought of my grandmother as the latest model in her long line of work.

"oftentimes, we get people that come in here and they're just... you know... horribly disfigured, or they have some sort of skin condition, and we have to fix them up. their skin will be all the wrong color, or we have to cover up burn marks or something... those are really the worst."

"huh."

chris stood next to me, equally dumbfounded, but i could tell that he was relieved that he didn't actually have to interact with the mortician.

"yeah, i know that when you work on a movie, you have to make it look completely different from what was actually shot, and we pretty much have to do the same thing!" she beamed. "as a matter of fact, the woman who taught me... she used to work in the movies. she did makeup for the camera and i remember she once brought her portfolio out and showed me all the actors and actresses that she worked on and it was so impressive!"

"i... uhhh... wouldn't have thought about that as a career transition, but i guess it makes sense," i said, trying not to sound like an idiot.

"oh yeah. it's really... it's really an art that we do, you know. there's a lot of airbrushing that we have to do for some people.. like when i was telling you about people that arrive here whose skin doesn't quite look right, we'll airbrush them so that they look more natural." i imagined this woman in a dark room with a spotlight over her and the cadaver, the air compressor making a horrible racket as she tried to blend just the right amount of "flesh" with "rosy" or "tan". this was really weird.

"but your grandmother... she was just so great to work with. her skin was just perfect!"

"oh.. umm... yeah... i... uhh... hope that i inherited that from her." dumb. dumb dumb dumb.

"i talked to your aunt and she said that your grandmother religiously used palms cold cream every night and every morning and used lemon juice as a tonic. i'm going to run out and buy some palms cold cream as soon as i can!" she said, getting visibly excited about the idea of having found the secret formula for perfect skin.

"oh yeah... she uhh... kept the palms in the fridge, i think."

"really? that's important to know!" she beamed again at me. there was one of those pregnant pauses. we nodded at eachother for a few seconds...

"i... uhh... chris and i have to go... i think the service is happening pretty soon," i said. was this graceful?

"oh! right! ok... i won't keep you any longer, then!" she smiled and left the room

cue bizarre abstract feeling.

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