His Beloved

As he walked into the living room, he sighed. It has been a terribly long and exhausting day and the next day would be the same. Sitting down in his old broken in lazy boy, he put his feet up and sighed, leaned back to get comfortable as the clock on the mantel chimed. Ten-fifteen. For a man who worked strange hour, this was early for him, despite the fact that he could feel his entire body relaxing into the softness of his chair. He couldn't help it he supposed. When you go from running a funeral home with anywhere from two to four licensed, full time funeral directors down to one, you were certain to be exhausted. Add to that your own personal issues, and the fact that the funeral he had conducted earlier that day and the one he would be conducting on Monday were merely children, no older than his own cherished group that he and his wife raised, he was finding it amazing that he was still awake enough to even be thinking. A dangerous sign for him that maybe he should turn over the phones to the answering service for the night, something he very rarely did because he simply liked to be in control. Another thing he found was simply part of him. Standing up, he slowly made his way into the outer office and over to the white plastic table that served as a desk for his young assistant. Sitting down in the desk chair, he couldn't help but admire how she managed to personalize the table and make it her own, and still manage to keep it neat enough so she could use it when she had to. Picking up the black receiver, he punched in a few numbers, double checking them against the phone cord on the desk and after the first ring was greeted by a cool, crisp voice on the other end of the phone. "Good evening. Walter Martens & Sons. How many I help you?" Certainly not as personal as the greeting both her and Victoria used, but it got the job done. "Yes this is Walter Martens. I'm not going to be able to answer phones tonight, I'm sorry. If we should get a call, would you ask them to hold it until morning. If they can't, then would you notify me." he explained as the cool voice on the other end responded. "Certainly. Will that be on your cell then Mr. Martens?" "Oh, yeah. Yes...my cell." he quickly answered as he felt his eye lids start to close. "Very well. Walter Jr. on his cell. Good night sir." she answered, still wide awake and probably running on coffee. Setting the phone back in its cradle, he quickly picked it back up and dialed the funeral home's 3rd line before he set the receiver on the desk and stood up as it rang the rest of the phones in the office. Taking a few steps, he stepped over to his son's desk and answered the phone by picking it up and placing it on the desk as well. Then, without even thinking, he headed right back to his lazy boy chair and sat down, kicked his feet up and leaned back. He was too tired to even make it to hi bedroom about a 1,000 feet away. Grabbing the blanket that was behind his head, he threw it around himself and drifted off into an uneasy and restless sleep.