Paula knew something was up when her sister called. Her family and her had stopped talking for a few years now. If someone should ask her now if it hurt that her relationship with her family had fallen into a disrepair, she would wonder how to reply to that question. It hurt, sometimes, if she chose to think about it. Most of the time, though, it was like something rotten left to stay in the fridge. It was mostly harmless. She left it alone and when the occasional thought of her family arose at night before she fell asleep, she brushed the thought off and thought of cows in meadows instead. Her sister's voice on the phone was eager with a note of nervousness, she wanted to invite Paula to her daughter's third birthday party. Paula was suspicious at first. Why the sudden change? Besides, wouldn't she bring bad luck to the party? Her sister's voice was strained with a forced cheerfulness.

"We're Christians now, we don't believe in bad luck anymore. Please come. Lisa wants to see her Aunt."

"Does Lisa know what her Aunt does for a living?" Paula had to control her voice for fear that all her anguish and sarcasm would bring a flood of bad memories to them both. She too, had adopted a slight kdding tone.

Her sister laughed, Paula thought nervously.

Paula promised that she would check her schedule and call her back. She wanted to think it over before she gave an answer.

Besides, she too had a busy life. She did not have a family, but there were always clients she had to tend to. Death never took a holiday, and neither did she.

Paula's mother had been a beautician and had been so proud of Paula when she graduated from beauty school. Back then, Paula's dream was to open her own beauty parlour. Her mother had been so excited she would squeal at the thought of seeing her own daughter's beauty parlour. Then Paula's father died.

It was not his death itself that transformed Paula. In fact, his father's corpse had impacted Paula much more than the man did when he was alive. It was what she witnessed as the undertaker dressed his father. How the undertaker closed her father's eyes with such care. Then took out a make-up kit she had seen plenty of times and chose a foundation that was close to her father's skintone when he was alive. She watched as the undertaker used a brush to give his father a slight blush as if he had just had a good laugh after a beer. Paula was amazed.

The undertaker, a kind man by the name of Mr Took was a little surprised at Paula's interest.

"Most of the time, people prefer not to watch the process. They feel, uncomfortable."

Paula nodded. It was a little bizzare, she had ot admit, watching this man apply make up on the ashen skin that she knew must have felt cold anad stiff to the touch.

"Is it disturbing?" She had asked, when Mr Took applied a hint of lipstick on her father.

He shook his head. "One gets used to it." Then after a pause. "Someone has to do it."

"Did you have to get a license for your er...practise?" She wondered if her question seemed rude. She didn't want him to think that she questioned his ability in anyway. If anything, she thought his profession noble.

"Well, back when I started doing this. There wasn't such a thing as licensing, but now, it's hard to say. I never had any formal training." He leaned over Paula's father to remove the excess lipstick.

"I'm a beautician. Can someone like me be an undertaker?"

It was then, that Mr Took paused. He straightened his back and studied her. There was a pause when neither of them spoke. A slow light seemed to dawn on Mr Took's eyes. At first they narrowed in suspicion as if detecting if Paula was making fun of him, then it slowly widen and softened.

"It's a calling. Not everyone can do it." Then wondering if that was a tad discouraging, he smiled at her. "Besides, I prefer to be called a Mortician."

It was through such a strange encounter that Paula gave up her dream of being a beautician and took to learning the art of dressing the dead and preparing them for their final departure from the world of the living.

Her family was shocked at her decision. Her mother, heartbroken. "How could she?" she kept asking through hysterical sobs. It was morbid, they agreed. Why would she prefer beautifying the dead to the living? It was a treason not only against her family but against all of the living and breathing.

"It's disgusting." Her sister had said.

The drift with her family happened slowly. She did not get invited to her mother's birthday. Then when her sister got married, they sent her an apology for not inviting her. The groom's family, according to her sister, was a supersitious bunch. When Lisa, her sister's first baby was born she was not informed and only heard about it from a distant relative. The baby's full-month party when she was one month old also excluded Paula. Once in while, she would receive photos of Lisa and she would reply with cards to congratulate. But slowly, the letters became fewer and Paula had given up on hearing any news from her family.

She never would have guessed how difficult it was to be a mortician. Her first encounter with Mr Took did not give her a clue. He was cheerful in a way that did not seem unappropriate. He made things easy for the families and guests by putting himself in such close contact with the dead. People did not want to be reminded of death, the stillness, the coldness of it. They wanted to see warmth and traces of life even on the dead. But it was hard. She lost a few friends and when strangers ask her what she does for a living, they would show shock then ask to be excused.

Before Paula and her family relationship fell into total disintegration, her mother had beegged her to change her mind.

"What kind of guy would want a mortician for wife?" She had asked and cried.

"Perhaps, I can marry another undertaker?" She thought it was funny, but her mother had been insulted. Back then, she did not know that her mother had spoken the truth. The life of an undertaker can be a lonely one.

"Hello? Jessica? I'll come to Lisa's party. All right, see you soon."

As she put down the phone, she felt a a tingle on her fingertips. She was nervous, but she could not deny that she was happy. It would be the first time she had seen her sister in three years.

She wanted to get Lisa something. Something significant, yet not over the top to show how much she cared for not just her niece, but also her sister. What would be an appropriate present for a three year old?

At the toy store, she strolled along the aisles of toys. There were so many, she felt like she had entered into an alien world. There were kids screaming and running. A little boy was spinning on the floor, cluthcing a toy robot and his father was adamantly shaking his head. "I'm going to leave you now." The father threatened but the boy kept screaming.

She wandered into the dolls section. She and Jessica had spent so many afternoons looking at dolls in toy stores when they were younger. They loved dressing them up and doing thier hair for parties and dates. A little girl was looking at the various dolls in the diaplay cabinet. Paula joined her. The dolls were all in beautiful gowns. They each wore beautiful jewelries and had their own handbags and high heeled shoes.

The little girl turned to Paula. "Aren't they beautiful?"

Paula nodded.

"When I grow up. I want to be just like them. I'm gong to be a beautician when I grow up."

Paula could see the glow in the little girl's eyes. Paula smiled, she was surprised when she felt her eyes misting over. She tired to think of cows on meadows, but the visions of the dolls in their dazzling gowns was overpowering. She felt the wetness on her cheeks before she could stop herself.