I

Fucking Christ.  Even this room smells like there's a body in it.  The air hung heavy with the perceived scent of death and for some reason dust.  Even though it was immaculately cleaned and kept with the lack of other activates to busy its attendant, Xavier could not help but keep wiping at his nose every few seconds.  I swear to fuck, they really need to dust this fucking place.  Why the fuck isn't she freaking out?  She's the neat freak.  The man at the desk in front of him was rattling on about figures and how this and that is done, but Xavier really could not care less.  Considering the situation, he knew not caring was pretty fucked up.  but the relationship with their mother over the years had become just that.

Meaningless bullshit going in one ear and out the other, it was only a matter of time before his mind drifted to what it was almost always drawn towards.  The woman close to his left sat in a chair matching to his.  She sat up straight as if she were actually paying attention.  Good acting, Mel.  And you hated mom even more than I did.  Then of course down he went to the thigh wrapped with faded blue denim crossed over its twin.  Until the jeans disappeared under the fur-line brown boots at her knees, he was reminded of a candy wrapper, his treat hidden from view within.  Always was a leg man.

Her hands shifted as they were clasped together on her legs, loosening the intertwining mesh of her fingers As usual whenever he was eying her, and she did this, he looked back to see her casting glances towards him.  Then the inevitable contact with the brown eyes behind the thin lenses of her glasses.  He was busted and he knew it.  Her eyes darted to the balding man whom was still going on as if they were still paying what he said any mind, then back to Xavier with her "Later" look.  Later?  What about if I tell him we need some time alone to think shit over?  Five minutes on that desk, that's all we need.  The stare she was giving him now was not going to waver.  It was just a matter of time until he turned away to slouch down in the chair in resigned submission.  You're the smart one.  Just tell me how much this is going to cost me when he gets to the fucking grand total.

Since they were both children, it seemed their mother had a thing for giving them headaches.  They were aware of the cancerous relationship between her and them for years, but always assumed that it was sparked by their father's death and sent her on a downward spiral down the rabbit hole of insanity.  But now that Xavier thought about it, she always was a little off.  He was just too young and naive to see it at the time.  He just thought that was how people acted when they aged.

"I talked to Dr. Uldaman," said the voice that sounded like even it had wrinkles, "And he said none of the medication your mother was taking will effect any of the preparations for her burial."  Medications?  No need to sound nice about it.  Just call them drugs.  The cunt was fucking nuts.  She should've been covered with chocolate and sold as a snack.  And burial?  No.  No burial.  Just burn the bitch.  Me and Mel will drop her off at the ASPCA as a donation and tell them its cat litter.

Xavier grumbled in Melissa's direction, knowing if he even opened his mouth, whatever he would say would leave the old fart speechless.  Besides, tact was much more her specialty than it ever was his.  "That's just it," she began, her voice really the only thing claming his nerves right now and surprising the strange urge to start pounding away on the annoying little man, "We don't want to do a big funeral or ceremony or anything like that.  We just want her cremated."  The man blinked, then blinked again.  He had this curious look on his face as if Melissa suddenly started talking Swahili.  Urge to cripple rising.  "Cremated?  Hmm," he said in a questioning tone, but even he could not be that stupid to not know what the word meant.  Yes cremated you dumb fuck!  You are in the funeral business aren't you?!  Don't make me beat you to death with a fucking dictionary.  If you don't have one in that shelf of dusty shit over there, the yellow pages will do just fine.  Burn that bitch.  And let me know when and where so I can bring the marshmallows and tell my best ghost stories.

"She'd rather have it that way," Melissa pressed, "Our mother really didn't like a big fuss being made over her."  Oh that's fucking rich.  Christmas of '99 ring any bells?  The gears in the man's head were obviously turning and that hamster running on that wheel that substituted for a brain was running on overdrive while his mind contemplated such a mind boggling thing for a funeral director to process a cremation.

He pulled a thin book standing upright on the desk and started thumbing through its pages.  From what Xavier could see from his spot, he could see color photos and a glossy sheen to the paper.  Wait a minute, there's something actually in this room that's not an original Little House on the Prairie prop?  "So if we're talking cremation now," he said with a stop in the middle of the book, "We should take about urns for your mother's ashes then."

With a twirl that defied his age and stubby, pork-pied fingers, Baldylocks spun the book the book around right side up for Xavier and Melissa.  Right there along with prices of course were pictures and most likely more on the other pages of urns of every color and tacky style.  Of fucking course.  Xavier groaned again and looked at Melissa, hoping she would get the point that this was all her call.

II

Ding dong the bitch is dead.  The rode back home in silence so far.  The capsule of glass and steal shielding them from the blisteringly cold air of the world outside.  North along the parkway, flanked on both sides by the brown skeletal hands that were trees reaching skyward, Xavier encountered what would be expected this time of day.  The sun had already begun its decent in the west, a sprinkling of white flakes drifted into his view every few seconds.  Even the cold as a witch's tit weather couldn't bring him down right now.  His mother finally kicking the bucket to leave him and Melissa in peace may not top their wedding day in France nor Kelsey's birth, but it sure as shit ranked right up there.

With a quick flash of his eyes in Melissa's direction, he saw her in the passenger seat from the corner of his eye.  Her thumbs were a blur as they were pushing away at the buttons of her phone.  Probably texting the nanny that they were on their way back.  The bitch barely even understand English when she hears it.  How the fuck can she read it let alone know how to text it?  Fucking kids and their tech shit.

Finished, she stashed her phone away in the pocket of her jeans. "You're quiet today," she said with a pull of her hair away from her face to behind her ear to look at him.  "I'm relieved, Mel.  I just don't want to be a total dick and break out the party favors around you." "God, you had it easy.  I was the one that had to live with her for the real shitty years," she scoffed with a look away before returning to him, "Sure that's it though?  I know this ESW decision wasn't easy for you.  Not with your history there.  I mean, it's not like we need the money"

Xavier sighed.  Christ Mel.  "It's just something I have to do.  Unfinished business.  I'm just not sure about you being around that shit.  Some of these people are... different."  "And we're not?," she half laughed, "Besides, you first met the cunt there.  With me at least around, it'll be clear you're not the old Xavier they were used to before."

That's a fucking understatement.  He was a different man than he was years ago.  Emotionally scarred.  Bitter at almost the rest of the world.  Yes.  He was different now, and that in truth gave him an advantage.  No one that knew him in his past life really knew what to expect of him.  Yes.  Closing this book would rank right up there with life's few other achievements, winning this title would only add to his bragging rights.  If he won, super, but everyone in that ring would realize that he was back and not as the man they had expected.

Now he was smiling.  It probably looked like one of those insane grins that their mother used to wear during her "whittershins" moments.  Maybe it was all in his head and he did not look that crazy, but he should tame it down just in case.  He was happy, but not a loony happy.  He took one hand off the wheel to take hers as they drove back home and further and further away from their cold mother getting prepped for the cooker.  I fucking hate Chicago.  It's even fucking colder than this.  Having the shows in somewhere hot, sunny and sandy would be nice.  Like Miami.  I'll have bullshit that idea past Keaton when I get the chance.