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10
Irving
Music was another of the many coping strategies Irving had developed to help tame his anxiety. When all else failed, he would turn to Beethoven’s works for relief. He would replay the compositions, both on the piano and in his head. There were multiple instruments he’d mastered over the years. These included not only the piano, but the violin, flute, saxophone, mandolin, and the harp. Additionally, he was an excellent vocalist and had performed in choirs and orchestras alike. Unfortunately, he’d always had to quit after more than a decade for fear of someone noticing his lack of age progression.
As his fingers danced across the keys, he tried desperately not to think about Sage, or the dirty prints that remained on her husband’s casket. Thus far Irving had managed to evade Sage’s eyes, though it hadn’t been entirely easy. He replayed the events of the morning in his head.
The florist burst through the doors during the visiting hour to deliver the last of the flower bouquets for Mark’s service. As if her tardiness hadn’t been enough to vex Irving, she also left the front door ajar.
Scolding, Irving moved to shut it. “You were supposed to have these ready over an hour ago,” he told her.
“Apologies,” the florist said. “I’ve been swamped as of late.” Irving instructed her to leave the arrangements and show herself out.
“Close the door properly behind you this time! You’re letting in the cold” he whispered, crossly. “I swear if you’re ever tardy with the floral arrangements again, I’ll ensure you never get overwhelmed with business again!”
His mood already in a treacherous state, Irving was even more distraught now that he was forced to bring the pots into the visitation room, where Sage was. Instead of risking awkwardly bumping into her, Irving waited for the opportunity when she would inevitably need the washroom. It was then that he scurried into the room to arrange the flower pieces on either side of the casket. His mission would have been swift, had he not noticed the two men pressing their grimy fingers all over the casket’s shining exterior. “What do you think you’re doing?” he blurted at them.
“We’re just saying our good-byes,” one of the men replied with a startled look on his face.
“Kindly do so without besmirching the immaculate finish of the casket,” Irving huffed. He shooed them away, scrambling to erase the greasy marks. It was then that Cameron came from behind, gripping him by the shoulder.
“Come along, brother of mine,” he urged him. With a scowl, Irving followed Cameron out of the room.
“Make sure to polish the casket before wheeling it in,” Irving said. He hoped he didn’t appear as wild as he felt. Judging by the sore look Cameron was giving him, he probably did. Irving was so beside himself he could scarcely talk, which didn’t help. “Th-there’s filthy imperfections blotted all over…”
Cameron hushed him, “Be calm, brother.” He pressed his finger to Irving’s lips. “You needn’t worry yourself. Blake and I will handle the casket.” Cameron then crossed his arms and continued in a more disciplinary tone. “Speaking of Blake, he ran into that poor florist woman on her way out. She was crying. It seems you hurt her feelings.”
Irving rolled his eyes. “Oh, please! I only mildly threatened her. Why are mortals so intent on receiving respect even when they don’t deserve it?”
“You’re becoming deranged,” Cameron stated. His brother’s stoic countenance perturbed Irving. Why was he the only one who seemed to lose his nerve? “Everyone deserves respect. Focus on your precious Beethoven compilation and please refrain from interacting with anyone.”
I’m trying,Irving now thought to himself. His eyes squeezed shut, he pounded out the last of the chords just as his brothers entered the chapel with the casket. Irving was aghast to find that the fingerprints were still present.That imbecile told me he would handle it!
Anxiety welled inside Irving as he watched the casket pass. The unsightly spots on the wood were like eyes, staring at Irving, daring him to smother them. He couldn’t stop himself, he had to polish them away.
I dare say Cameron left that hideous mess on purpose!Irving thought in contempt. Whisking a handkerchief from his pocket he rushed around the audience to the front of the chapel.
“What are you doing?” Cameron hissed as Irving suddenly appeared. When he saw his brother frantically cleaning the lid of the casket, he rolled his eyes.
“It has to be clean,” Irving retorted in a hushed voice. After annihilating the prints from the casket, he briskly returned to his place at the back of the chapel where he smoothed back his hair and released the breath he’d been holding onto.
No sooner was his anxiety alleviated, when another took its place. During the orator’s speech, a late guest was guided through the front side entrance of the chapel. The receptionist was the one to guide the guest and she, of course, neglected to close the door as she left.Curse you, Rebecca!Irving fumed. Rebecca was the receptionist who was constantly leaving doors agape. His fists balled, Irving planted his feet firmly to the ground. He couldn’t get up to secure the door, as Sage’s eulogy was about to take place. If she saw him, she could become agitated. She was likely already in a fragile emotional state given that she was at her husband’s funeral.
The amount of mental strain it took for Irving to fight his compulsion was excruciating. Sweat threatened to percolate on his forehead; breathing became a laborious chore. Not that he needed to breathe but the act of it usually calmed him. Just when Irving thought he could resist no longer, Sage excused herself from the podium to close the door.
“There was a draft coming from there,” she explained to the audience, though she was specifically looking at Irving. He knew, she’d tended to the door to ease his pain.
That’s when Irving realized he had to get her back. No matter what it took, Sage Thorne was the only woman for him.
Good god,he thought to himself as he at last discovered the source of his recent torment,she really gets me.
