Dead Man's Coats
by Deborah
Cherry Mosch
“That was
fun, wasn’t it?” I asked as we hiked
through the airport, exhausted.
“Okay,
that’s it. Get rid of the coats. Now, I mean
it, just toss them into the ladies room,”
Pam blurted.
“What? I
just got them yesterday,” I answered,
puzzled. “They’re brand new.”
“Not true.
They were brand new to the young man who bought
them who may or may not have recently died of old
age. What is true is they now reek like
concentrated urine and foot.”
I had never
seen Pam this agitated. She’s so cool and
collected and kind. I should have seen a red flag
though when her computer bag disappeared at the
Louisville airport during which was supposedly my
watch. She had given me a look. It was understood
that if one of us was, say, taking the rental car
keys back to the counter, that the other one of
us would watch any miscellaneous bags left on the
floor by the rental key-returner. That was
Pam’s understanding. My understanding was
that you never ever leave unattended bags on the
airport floor.
I continued,
“You talked me into buying those coats. You
told me they were cool.”
“I
didn’t know what I was saying, I was
delirious from the smell,” Pam claimed.
“What? I
have trusted you all these years. I only buy what
you tell me looks good on me,” I whined.
“Well,
you’ve been living a lie. The suede coat is
putrid and the leather coat is rank. The smell
has actually permeated my glasses.”
“I know
this is your headache talking. You’re tense.
We had such a good time at the estate sale,
didn’t we?”
“I have a
headache because I’ve been sitting on a
plane for two hours with jacketed corpses missing
their bodies. And for two days leading up to that
I was stuck in a hotel room and a tiny rental car
with the damn things, which, for some secret
reason you would not let leave your side. I need
fresh air!”
“I
couldn’t pass them up, not for that price.
You even said, ‘It’s sixteen dollars
total for cryin’ out loud, what’s the
big decision?’”
“I said
that because you were stymied over whether or not
to spend sixteen dollars when we were already
forty-five minutes late for a brunch that had our
jobs on the line.”
“Now you
are just exaggerating. Our jobs were only on the
line the next day when we were late for the
portfolio review. Honestly, I don’t know
what on earth I was thinking when I went back
down to that bar. You know I can’t hold my
liquor. And I don’t even smoke! And I
already apologized for that.”
“The
coats are so old and mildewy that the only thing
holding them together is the smell.”
A few moments
of silence gathered between us as we continued
our hike through the airport.
I broke the
silence with, “It was fun, wasn’t it?”
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