The Man in the Black Suit

Somewhere in Blandmore right now, a man is sleeping.  He sleeps well, he does not dream.

Before the man went to bed, he hand-washed and waxed his van, and parked it carefully on the driveway at work.  He drove home, he ate a square meal of meat and vegetables, brushed his teeth and shaved.  He checked his hair, and cut away any stray locks.  He polished his leather shoes, then carefully pressed a black suit, and hung it from his wardrobe door.  He closed his eyes.

At some point tonight, or tomorrow night, an alarm will sound.  The man will rise and silence it.  He will step into the shower and carefully soap and scrub himself.  He will dry every inch of skin with a clean towel.  He will slide his arms and legs into his black suit, and do up his black tie.  The man will check himself in a mirror, from every angle.

Outside the door of his workplace, waits another man in another black suit.  They collect the keys, they climb into their pristine van, they produce a map and drive to a location.

Inside, could be desolation.  There could be hysteria, disbelief, anger or remorse.  There might be silence and loneliness.  Whichever awaits, the man in the black suit is the same.

Blood, vomit, bloated flesh and rotted skin, are all one to the man in the black suit.  His handshake never falters; his words are soothing and low.  I am sorry to meet you under such circumstances.  My condolences on your loss.  Perhaps you would prefer to wait over here, madam.  We'll take it from here, sir, don't worry about a thing.

Tha man in the black suit can cope with narrow stairwells and soiled carpets.  He can navigate a decade of phone bills, a generation of ornaments.  He has strength and pride and compassion.

No one asks the man's name.  No one remembers his face, nor wonders what he thinks, where he lives, whom he loves.  He is just a man, in a suit, who answers the phone when you call.  He will come to witness your darkest hour and fill it with quietness and dignity.

Thank you, to the men in the black suits, who undertake the duty of which no one speaks.

 


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'Diary of an On-Call Girl' is available in some bookstores and online.