Last Thoughts

• Shayley Webb, Grade 11
• Short Story
• 2019

“Sir, I assure you, your wife will be handled with the utmost respect.” Lilly gave her most disarming and comforting smile.
The man nodded from his chair across her desk. “That’s a relief. I must say,” he shifted in his seat, “I was a little worried about this whole idea.”
“Most are.”
“I just didn’t want anything, you know, bad to happen to her.”
Lilly nodded. “Certainly. But, I mean, your wife is dead. What’s she gonna complain about?” She laughed.
His eyes widened and knuckles went white. Gee, would she meet even one customer who had a sense of humour? It never seemed to work on them.
“Uh, joking… of course.” Lilly clasped her hands together. “But I mean… well… so, you wanna know your wife’s last thought now?”
The procedure was easy enough. Fire up the machine, hook up the body, rub hands gleefully, see how uncomfortable the customer gets at her rubbing her hands gleefully, probe the brain for lingering pulses, watch as the waves are translated into binary, then into English and, lastly, print out the results.
Then came the fun part. Watch the customer’s face as they read what the loved one’s last thought on earth was. Sometimes it was boring, merely a repeat of what their last words were. Sometimes it was so random that the customer would almost faint. Sometimes it was embarrassing. Those ones were the best. It almost gave some personality to the cadaver lying behind on the bench behind her. Sometimes it was gibberish. That could be pretty fun too.
Lilly never got tired of it all.
“My wife’s last thought was about how cracked the ceiling paint above her bed was?”
Lilly shrugged. “Not uncommon. Home repairs are, like, in the top twenty things people last think before they die. What’s the problem?”
“I… I suppose I just thought it would be a little more… profound.”
“Nope. Here’s your bill.”
“Nothing about me, or our kids?”
“Nuh uh, it’s all there.”
“I… oh.” The man fingered the small piece of card, his eyes lowered to the concrete floor. His posture slackened, shoulders slumping. “Maybe this was a mistake,” he muttered.
“Nah.” Lilly patted his shoulder. “Now you know that your ceilings need a do-over. Honour your wife’s memory or whatever and do some DIY. But first pay me. I’m on a schedule.”
“This… so much?”
What was with people? If it wasn’t the service or the results that they whined about, it was the price. Or the hygiene. Or the lack of it.
Lilly said, “Think about it this way… this is the last thing you’ll ever have to spend on your wife.” She smiled.” Why not splurge a little, huh? Spoil her. You know she would have appreciated it.”
A minute later, fingering the crisp bills he had left, she smiled and said, with a content sigh, “I do love it when they spend the money for nothing."