A tree grows in Brooklyn - Betty Smith [126]
All undertakers gave this “service.” It was a trick to ascertain how much insurance there was. Once they knew the amount, the funeral cost eighty percent of it. They had to leave a little money for mourning clothes to keep the people satisfied.
Katie got the policy. As she put it on the table, his practiced eye picked out the amount: two hundred dollars. He appeared not to have looked at the policy. After Katie had signed the paper, he talked of other things for a while. Finally, as if coming to a decision, he said:
“Tell you what I’ll do, Mrs. Nolan. I’ll give the departed a first-class four-coach funeral with a nickel-handle coffin for one hundred and seventy-five dollars. That’s my regular two-hundred-and-fifty-dollar job and I’m not making a penny on it.”
“Why are you doing it then for?” asked Katie.
He wasn’t at all put out. “I’m doing it because I liked Mr. Nolan. A splendid man and a hard-working man.” He noticed the surprised look Katie gave him.
“I don’t know,” she hesitated. “A hundred and seventy-five…”
“That includes the mass, too,” he put in hastily.
“All right,” said Katie dully. She was tired of talking about it.
The undertaker picked up the policy and pretended to see the amount for the first time. “Say! This is for two hundred,” he said in stagey surprise. “That means you got twenty-five dollars coming to you after the funeral is paid.” He dug into his pocket stretching his leg out straight before him to do so. “Well, I always say that a little cash comes in handy at a time like this…at any time, if you ask me.” He chuckled understandingly. “So I’ll just advance you the balance out of my own pocket.” He put twenty-five dollars in new bills on the table.
Katie thanked him. He wasn’t fooling her but she made no protest. She knew that was the way things were done. He was only working at his trade. He asked her to get the death certificate from the officiating doctor.
“And please inform them that I’ll call for the re…I mean for the depart…well, I’ll come and get Mr. Nolan.”
When Katie went to the hospital again, she was taken to the doctor’s office. The priest of the parish was there. He was trying to supply information for the making out of the death certificate. When he saw Katie, he made the sign of the cross in blessing and then shook her hand.
“Mrs. Nolan can tell you more than I can,” said the priest.
The doctor asked necessary questions; the full name and place of birth and date of birth and so on. Finally Katie asked him a question.
“What are you writing down there—what he died from, I mean.”
“Acute alcoholism and pneumonia.”
“They said he died of pneumonia.”
“That was the direct cause of death. But this acute alcoholism was a definite contributing factor; probably the main cause of death, if you wish the truth.”
“I don’t want you to write down,” said Katie slowly and steadily, “that he died from drinking too much. Write that he died of pneumonia alone.”
“Madam, I have to state the entire truth.”
“He’s dead. What can it mean to you what he died of?”
“The law requires…”
“Look,” said Katie. “I got two nice children. They’re going to grow up to amount to something. It isn’t their fault that their father…that he died from what you said. It would mean a lot to me if I could tell them that their father died of pneumonia alone.”
The priest took a hand in it. “You can do it, Doctor,” he said, “without hurt to yourself and with benefit to others. Don’t be kicking around of a poor lad that’s dead and gone. Write down pneumonia which is no lie, and this lady will be remembering you in her prayers for a long time to come. Besides,” he added practically, “it’s no skin off your teeth.”
All of a sudden, the doctor recalled two things; he remembered that the priest was a member of the hospital board and he remembered that he liked being head doctor at that particular hospital.
“All right,” he conceded. “I’ll do it. But don’t let it get around. It’s a personal favor to you, Father.” He wrote down “pneumonia” in the blank after “Cause of death.