Chapter three

Its 1972 and on the news is a story about 16 survivors from plane crash that are rescued after practicing cannibalism. This fascinates him. Humans eating humans? 11 years old, should he be seeing this story? The maid rushes him out of the room to his bedroom.
His bedroom. Its all too familiar walls both comfort him and cage him. Although he has almost anything a young boy could need, he didn't have companionship or love. His parents ordering him to come home directly from school every day. He had to complete a series of chores and go to his room to do his homework. His parents were either entertaining or working late in their respective offices. After he completed his homework, he must bring it to his father. Knocking on his office door and wait for a response. Most of the time he would be told to open the door immediately, other times shuffling and banging would occur before the door is allowed to be opened. Once the homework is inspected, he would be sent to his room again, to read. Education at the centre of all activities. At precisely 5:30 dinner is ready and at 7:45 his mother would direct him to bathe and brush his teeth. Every day, including in the summer.
Most kids would enjoy summer camping, vacationing or visiting other family. Playing in the park with their families, parents and siblings sometimes with their parents' friends or colleagues. Not him. Summer was an opportunity to learn. Private tutors would be brought in. He was taught German and Italian the other 2 most prominent business languages of the time. He was encouraged to exercise. His parents had a glide-o-matic rudimentary tread mill, stationary bike and rowing machine. These were the best the time had to offer. They also had a private tennis instructor come twice a week to train with him. It was basically one of the only social engagements that he had outside of school.
His parents were best friends with Winne and Howard Dokken of the Dokken Nelson funeral home. These were prominent people, wealthy and a little eccentric. They often threw lavish parties that his parents would attend. Several times a year it would seem that they would try to compete with them and throw their own parties. These nights were the best for him. It would be the only time that his parents would show him off, brag about his accomplishments and give him perfunctory ruffles of his hair before sending him off to bed. But the days up to these parties would be hard. These days there was even less time for him. Often the maid would just bring him sandwiches in his room. Telling him to stay out from under foot. To him it was worth it, knowing the reward coming in the next few days.
Often, when done all his chores and schoolwork, he would tear apart and re-organize his room. He would create lists of things, he had and what he wanted. He took comfort in its organization and order. When he wasn't studying, it was something to do.
One day, his father summoned him to his office. When he arrived, he saw his mother and father together. Father sitting at his desk and his mother standing beside him, her hands on her husbands shoulder and on her hip. They were always extremely tidy and fashionable. The house also was always perfectly tidy and organized. Never a stray paper or book out of place anywhere. His father's office was no exception. He walked into the room and he was suddenly frightened.
"Sit down son" his father said. His father was never a man to waste words.
He sat down in the chair in front of his parents, hands folded in his lap and his eyes on his father. That was something his father demanded of him. Always look a speaker in the eye. It shows respect and that you are paying attention.
"You will be 12 soon. We thought it high time that you took a job." His father said with a matter-of-fact tone. "I got my first job with my father when I was only 9 years old. It taught me discipline and responsibility."
He sat there, excited and anxious. What would this mean? A possibility of a social life? Engaging with other people? Where would he go? What would he do? All of this he kept inside and patiently waited for his father to go on.
This time his mother spoke, "We have been talking to Mr. and Mrs. Dokken about you working at the funeral home. They have an adult daughter who is willing to train you."
A funeral home!? What?! With bodies and stuff! He couldn't take the look of shock from his face. His skin pale and grey, his eyes wide.
"Son, you will be upstairs in the offices. Helping and on occasion greeting people." His father said. "You do what they tell you to do."
"Father, may I ask a question?" He asks.
"No." This was final. This means just do it and don't attempt to disagree or start any argument. Like it or not, he was going to work....at a funeral home.