Lauren Takes Leave Gerstenblatt, Julie (classic literature list txt) 📖

For someone on leave from the darker side of life, I’msure spending an awful lot of time around dead bodies.

Well, really, just one dead body in particular.

And today, we’re putting her to rest.

I shake some of this morning’s rain off my jacket and handit to a woman behind the coat check at Stillman’s Funeral Home. Doug gives herour umbrella and takes the claim ticket. We follow the signs for Sonia Goldbergand make our way down the hushed, softly carpeted yellow hallway.

“Hi-yyy,” Jodi says, embracing me as I enter the familyvisitation room to the side of the chapel. She’s wearing a tight blackfloor-length sheath à la Morticia Adams.

I had a theory and now it’s been proven: Jodi owns a sexyensemble for every occasion.

“Hi, Doug,” Jodi purrs, hugging him next.

Before letting us go, she leans into us. “I am so hungover,”she whispers. “I got totally trashed after they announced last night’s winners!And guess who I drank with?”

“Can’t imagine,” I say.

“Rabbi Cantor,” is Doug’s guess.

“Well, Kat, of course,” she says. “Kat…and Leslie.”

“Leslie Koch?” I blurt.

“One and the same!” Jodi says. “She apologized to Kat, andthen we did shots of Manischewitz. Well, Kat and I did. Leslie won’t drinkanything purple anymore. It’s part of her—”

“Twenty-four-step program?” Doug guesses.

“Anyway, she’s coming today to pay her respects.” Jodireaches into the deep V of her dress’s neckline and pulls out a small packet ofTums. She pops two in her mouth and offers the roll to us.

I wave her offer away. “That should be interesting,” Isay, hoping Leslie isn’t on to us yet.

We make our way down the line of mourners in the Moncrieff-Goldbergclan, saying hello to all the people we just saw last night, and head into thechapel.

Kat’s seated alone, about ten rows back. She waves us overwith a halfhearted hand in the air. She appears to be sucking on a lollipop.

“Blow Pop, actually,” she says, when I ask her what she’sgot in her mouth. “Trick from the Clevelander. Keeps me from puking.”

I slide into the wooden pew and put my arm around her. Herface has a greenish tinge. “Kat, you’ve got to stop drinking so much.”

“Brilliant plan. You’ve solved all my problems.”

Too much sarcasm so early in the day can mean only onething. “Peter?” I guess.

“I’m serving him with official divorce papers tomorrow.And I have to go back to school to deal with the diministration. So,yeah, I’m just trying to keep my food down.”

“The Sundays.” I nod.

“Yeah. Worst part of the job,” she says. “Besides the, youknow, teaching aspect.”

Doug, who has been silent until now, clears his throat.“Why don’t you quit?”

I swivel my head around to face him. “Her or me?” I ask,knowing the answer.

“Lauren, not everything is about you,” Doug says, soundingjust like my mother. I hate when he does that.

“I need money, Doug. That’s the problem.” Kat starts chompingon the lollipop with her incisors to break through to the gum.

“Like teaching is the only way to make a living?” he asks.“You can’t waitress or something for a while?”

“Would you want me to serve you the pasta special?Really?” She smiles and chews a big wad of gum. I imagine her spilling Alfredosauce on customers she doesn’t like. Often.

“Fold T-shirts at the Gap. Work in a bakery.” Doug ischock full of creative solutions for Kat. I’m sitting in the middle of them,wondering, why isn’t he letting me off the hook? How come Kat gets tobake and I have to go back to teaching, tomorrow and probably forever?

An orchestral version of “Wind Beneath My Wings”interrupts my thoughts. Before I can get into another fight with my husband,the Moncrieff-Goldbergs come through the door and take their seats in the firstrow.

Slipping in right behind them is Leslie Koch.

Given our new peace pact, I smile and wave in herdirection. She turns to me and time slows down.

You know that thing people do in movies, where they holdup two fingers, point them in their own eyes, and then aim them right at you?It’s a menacing, foreboding gesture that means I’m watching you. Well,that’s exactly what Leslie does when she sees me. And then, just as RabbiCantor is about the begin the funeral service, she sits down at the end of arow across from me and mouths the word “Meow.”

I do believe that we are fucked. Again.

“I want to quit,” I say as Doug and I get into his car,metaphorically ripping the Band-Aid off quickly. We are getting into line forthe police-escorted procession down State Street and to the quaint Jewishcemetery about ten minutes away in North Elmwood. “Also, I do believe thatLeslie is back to hating me. Well, this time it’s us, really, youincluded.”

“Why?” Doug asks, turning to meet my eyes. He adjusts thewipers and the rain slides out of view.

“Well, for starters, because we broke into her house lastnight while she was dancing her ass off.”

“No, Lauren.” He places the sign from the funeral home onthe dashboard, letting other drivers know we are part of this convoy of cars.“I mean, why do you want to quit your job so badly? You are a great teacher.”

I smile sadly. “Just because I’m good at it doesn’t mean Ilike it.”

“Since when?” He pulls out of the parking lot slowly,making a right hand turn behind Kat’s black VW Beetle.

“Since…I don’t know.” I think for a moment, watchingbusinesses and strip malls pass by under gray skies, their neon signs blurredby the rain. “It’s just so…predictable.”

“You really wanted that promotion.”

“Actually, no,” I say. “I wanted to be the departmentchair because it seemed like the logical next step. I liked the idea ofteaching a lighter course load, and of spending more time in other teachers’classrooms, helping them. You know how I love to teach teachers. Maybe evenmore than I love teaching children.”

“So, why not apply for positions as the English chair atanother school?” Doug asks. “It’s the right time of year for job hunting ineducation; I bet you could land something great.”

I am already shaking my head no before he even finishesthe complete thought. “Because, here’s the thing: I