Morgue Room B

My mother was obsessed with J.D Salinger. If you have to know, she was a bit off. She swore from the moment I was born that I “embodied” the spirit of his writing. In particular, she always read me “A Perfect Day for Bananafish.” Every night after bath, she would squeeze me with my towel and tell me to meet her in bed after I brushed my teeth. At the age of seven I could recite direct dialogue from a short story about a deranged man who kills himself next to his wife. To say death was romanticized from a young age for me would be a complete understatement. 

 I hadn't really decided why I was there that day, or if I thought she could actually help. Maybe I could start by talking about my mother, or my life, or how every day at three o'clock it feels like I can't breathe. It truly took me by surprise when it happened. I remember looking around and seeing that no one was there but me and her. We had never been alone before. So I just did it. I leaned down and said, “I'm sorry, what do you need to know?”

Of course, there was no answer. I knew she wasn't going to answer. But I couldn't resist. 

“Don't worry, we can try again later.” Haha that was funny. Well maybe it wasn't funny, but it was at least ironic. If you were into that sort of thing. 

I heard the door open behind me and I grabbed my notebook. The director of the coroner program came in followed by a group of trainees, all closely on her heels. She looked shocked to see me. I was in so early. 

“Holden, please grab your coat and join us around the table,” she said. 

I grabbed my coat as fast as I could and joined the group in the back of the class. I need to make sure I don't stand out as much. That is important. 

“So what we have here is a Jane Doe found in the Bronx. Of course at first glance, she looks as though she died from something only internally, she looks as though she is still sleeping. I have, of course, already determined the cause of death without any cutting or removing of any organs or skin. Your job is to work together and figure out how she died. Take your time, she has no immediate kin and no one but the local police are worried about her remains.”

I couldn't believe it. She was a Jane Doe. In the few hours that I knew her I imagined her to have a dedicated group of friends and people who missed her greatly. Maybe they just haven't found who is looking for her?  Don't worry. I'll ask her as soon as they leave. I know you are confused. I'll explain it all later. Right now I need to keep telling you about what happened in that room. About what happened in Morgue Room B. 

“Holden, do you want to be in my group,” asked Darrel. He was a good guy and got good marks so why not?

“Sure man that sounds good. Crazy that she is a Jane Doe though, right?” I never knew how to have a casual conversation with my classmates. I wasn’t like the others. They were freaks. I really hope they don't cut her hair for the examination. We both really like it. It was her favorite.

Darrel decided that we should stay through lunch to be able to examine her while the others were gone. Maybe the director would see and notice how studious we were. To be honest, I didn't give a shit about that. Darrel, on the other hand, was very interested in being liked. I just wanted as much alone time with her as I could get. 

I guess I should tell you about what happened after lunch now. The stuff that happened in the middle wasn't that important and I know you are only interested in the important stuff. While the others were at lunch Darrel and I slid behind the door, careful to not draw any unwanted attention to us. Darrel, of course, didn't want anyone thinking he was trying to be on the directors good side.  As you know, I didn't give a shit about that. I couldn’t figure out why I was so drawn to her. It was magnetic. It was carnal. I had never wanted something more. And not in the physical frat boy sense. I wanted to know her. I couldn't stop thinking about her. What was she like before? Who was she with? Who did she like?........Would she like me? Darrel spoke and it broke all of my perpetual inner thoughts. 

“Do you ever think about how they died just based on how they look?”

To be honest I hadn't even thought about how she died. 

“What do you mean by what they look like?” 

“You know like this girl is a nice clean cut girl. So obviously she wasn't a druggie. She was brought in immediately and she isn't dirty and roughed up. I don't know, I am assuming that she died of some sort of accidental drug overdose or an undiagnosed heart condition. But the director wouldn't know about the heart condition just from looking at the outside of her, right?” Darrel brought up good points. Was she a druggie? No way. I could tell. Not her. 

I told Darrel, “I don't think it is our place to guess before we even do any formal examination. I don't want this to cloud our judgment. If we are going to win this,” I gave Darrel a friendly elbow to the side of the ribs, “we are going to have to focus.” 

I couldn't believe what happened next. You are going to have a hard time believing it. I wouldn't believe it either. But nonetheless, here we are. Cadavers are usually naked and covered with a thin non-absorbent sheet. Usually when the sheet is removed, you are exposed to the worst atrocities you could think of. Of course, that never bothered me. Not one bit. But when I removed the sheet she was different than anything I had ever seen before. No giant wounds, no lesions, no apparent signs of rigor mortis. She was perfect. Porcelain skin, combed hair, no bruises or scratches. Next, I started focusing on my other senses, and then it hit me. Most rooms with cadavers have a certain smell. Not as bad as you would think, thanks to the high tech refrigeration and chemicals. But there is always the faint smell of death lingering under all the cleaning agents. I hadn't noticed it before when we were alone. But that distant smell was gone and replaced with something familiar. Something that I hadn't remembered until now. 

The smell of Gardenia hit me harder than anything I have ever experienced before. I felt my stomach turn, my heart race. I was sweating and breathing heavily. Was it three o’clock? Why can't I breathe? 

Gardenias have a very fragrant smell. Floral and bright. Which is shocking because it is actually in the coffee family. Okay, I get it. You get it, I'm stalling. She wasn’t supposed to smell like this. They have never smelled like this before. This isn't right. Is it three o’clock yet? Okay, it’s time to focus now, I need to do her examination.

Darrel cleared his throat. He was always doing that. I could tell that he noticed that I was in deep trouble. Finally, he spoke. 

“Hey man, I'm actually getting pretty hungry. I'm going to go grab a lunch tray and meet you back in here?”

“Sounds good,” I said. 

I remember turning my head and looking at her. But this time it was different. The longing was gone and replaced with something much darker. The rage boiled inside me and I couldn't take it. 

“Why would you wear that? Who told you about that? You smell repulsive and corrupt.”

Believe me, I wanted to think about anything else. I really tried my best, you have to believe me. But I couldn't help it. She made me think about the worst part of me. You know, my mother used to smell aggressively of the flowers she clipped in her garden. Gardenias, Roses, Lilies and any other boring fragrant pieces she could grow, she would wear on her at all times. I have vivid memories of her reading me stories about death and despair while reeking of fragrance. In fact the last memory of her that I have, my favorite memory of her, involves her smelling of flowers before she took her last breath. Oh, she was surprised of course. But I guess that story is for another time. I'll tell her, my Jane, when she is ready. Right now I am focused on who told her to wear this whorish smell. I couldn't help it. I just couldn't stop thinking about it. My mother really ruined me, you know? No matter how hard I tried, she was always there nagging me from the grave. She just wouldn't leave me alone. 

“So Jane. It is just you and me now. You see, is it okay if I call you that? I have been waiting to be alone with you again because I have so many questions for you.” I could feel my rage boiling. How could she do this to me? She and I could have been perfect. 

“You smell like her. She told you didn't she? She told you what I did?” I could hear an alarm go off in the distance. What time was it? I couldn't get my thoughts to stop racing. I was going to do something bad, I could feel it. 

“Listen Jane, don't be afraid, you did this. You knew what you were doing when you came in here. You got me to be interested in you, you tempted me with your calm demeanor. But you ruined it. I can tell that you talked to her, my mother. You are working with her.”

I could feel myself lose it but I couldn't stop. If you must know, I wasn't going to do what I did. I wanted us to start fresh, to talk and grow our relationship. She messed this up. Not me. Honestly. 

I checked my watch and it was 2:58. I took a deep breath, counted to ten, and drove a scalpel into her chest.