Hustling down to the bowels of the ship, scurrying along an endless hallway, I finally found the doctor’s office. Rushing inside, I asked for Aston Martin’s family and was led to a small room. There was poor Aston lying on a blue, plastic-covered examination table. He was still wearing his red Speedo. His face and remarkably hairy chest were extremely sunburned. So were his ears. Dermatologists always tell you not to forget to put sunblock on the ears and this was why.
Bunny was holding Aston’s head next to hers and crying. Sydney stood across from her mother, her eyes swollen like little mice eyes from weeping. It was the first time I’d ever seen her look bad, which was good. Denis comforted her with his arm around her shoulder, which was bad. Why do even I care? I wondered.
“How will I go o-o-o-on?” Bunny wailed, her face red, mascara streaks running down her cheeks. “He was my world.”
My thoughts were interrupted. Bunny looked stricken. “Remind me how long they were married?”
“Two years,” Carleen whispered.
Bunny heard that. “Two glorious years,” she said. “The best twenty-four months of my life. Why me? Why now?”
“My condolences,” I said, touching her arm lightly.
There was a knock at the door and Pops charged in. “I came as soon as I heard,” he said. “Oh, Bunny.” He attached himself to her like a leech. She sobbed into his shoulder.
Lucille and Carleen gave each other a look, their eyes wide. Since when was Pops friends with Bunny? Was something going on between these two, or had she been ogling him from afar? I needed to have a serious talk with him.
Another knock and Captain Paul entered.
Bunny looked up, her face streaming with tears. “We lost him, Captain. The love of my life.”
“I’m so very sorry,” he said, almost touching her, but then stopping and giving her his handkerchief, along with the card that said he doesn’t shake hands or make skin contact with passengers for sanitary reasons. “We’ll take care of the arrangements when we get to Istanbul. Our concierge will handle everything, including your air tickets home. You mustn’t worry.”
“What?” Bunny said. “I have to leave?”
“Well, Mother, under the circumstances…” Sydney started.
Bunny blotted her tears with Captain’s handkerchief and put on her icy doyenne face. “I refuse to abandon my daughter on the eve of her betrothal. You’ll put Aston in the morgue. We’ll give him a proper burial after the wedding.”
“I really think we should postpone,” Denis said.
“Right,” Sydney said. “It would be bad luck to marry now.”
“Nonsense,” Bunny said. “My ancestors hark back to England. We carry on.”
“I agree,” Lucille added. “Aston wouldn’t have wanted to ruin your big day.”
“Mrs. Martin,” Captain said, “I’m afraid the refrigeration in our morgue isn’t working properly.”
“Surely you jest,” Bunny said. “With all these elderly passengers, I should think this would happen every week.”
“Yes, it occurs regularly,” Captain said. “But on our last cruise, the cooling unit broke and we had to order a special part. We’re picking it up in Rome. Truthfully, though, we rarely need a morgue. Normally, we ship remains home immediately. No passenger has ever asked to stay.”
“Well, this passenger is asking,” Bunny said. “No, she’s demanding. You’ll put him on ice in the ship’s freezer. You do have a freezer, don’t you?”
“Of course, but I’m not sure that’s hygieni—”
“Not another word,” Bunny commanded. “The wedding will go on as planned. Please, Captain, send your crew down immediately to retrieve my darling’s body.”
Captain bowed like John the butler and backed out of the room.
The nurse entered to help put Aston in a body bag. Silently, we waited outside. Soon the captain and the doctor were rolling his bagged remains on a gurney toward the kitchen.
We all accompanied Aston toward his temporary resting freezer, with Bunny sobbing buckets along the way. Pops bolstered her up with his arm around her shoulder. When we pushed the body into the kitchen, all activity stopped, and everyone took off his chef hat or hairnet as a show of respect. Inside, we passed a sink, where a life-size mermaid ice sculpture was melting and would soon exist only in memory and photos, just like Aston.
Captain spoke quietly to Donald, the manager (it said so on his name tag).
“Excuse me, Mrs. Martin,” Captain said, “but would you mind if we store…er…place your husband’s remains in the ice cream freezer? Donald feels he’d have more privacy there.”
“What other accommodations are available?” Bunny asked.
“We have separate freezers for chicken, meat, and vegetables as well.”
Bunny made a brave face. “Captain, I believe my Aston would have preferred the company of meat.”
“Yes, I would agree,” Lucille said. “He was very masculine.”
“As you wish,” Captain said.
Donald led our party into a walk-in freezer that was bigger than my cabin. He and the captain emptied a shelf of roasts, steaks, pork loins, legs of lamb, and other hunks of dead flesh. Donald, Captain, and some kitchen hands gently lifted Aston off the gurney and laid him in the shelf above the calves liver and beneath the veal cutlets.
“We’ll clear this whole area of food as soon as you leave,” Donald promised, “and put up a plastic curtain to give him privacy.”
I didn’t want to be the one to say it, but hello-oh! Wasn’t this some kind of health code violation? Even if it wasn’t, it couldn’t be sanitary to store human remains with tonight’s dinner. I was surprised that Captain didn’t refuse, what with his no hand shaking policy and all.
“Shall I get a rabbi or priest?” Captain said. “Maybe someone should say a few words.”
Bunny held up her hand as if to say stop. “Captain, please, let’s not sully this man’s memory by holding a religious service for him in the same place you store frankfurters.”
“Forgive my insensitivity,” Captain said.
Bunny knelt by his body and stroked the bag. “Aston was so looking forward to being in Istanbul. He’s never been, you know. At
