Cheers to the good life

by Lorena Franco

  "Laurita.Laurita,isthatyou?Areyoudead?"

  WhenIturnedaroundtofindoutwhowasspeakingtome,Ifinallysawafamiliarfacethat greetedmecheerfully.ItwasAnthony,myneighborfromtheninthfloor.Ashort,extremelythin manwithsmall,sunkenblueeyes,anaquilinenoseandamustachehehadwornelegantlysince

  the 1930s. He died two years ago of a heart attack at ninety-two. The poor man did not see three in a donkey and apparently, death had not returned the vision. Often, for that reason of gainingmealittleskyandsuchthings,Iwasgoingtomakethepurchaseoritwentdownto throw the garbage to him when it had time. He always seemed to me an endearing man, he remindedmeofmygrandfather.

  "Anthony!Whatapleasuretoseeyou!"

  "Well,Laurita...Iwishitwereunderotherconditions,dear.Ialwaysknewthatfatwoman wouldbringdispleasuretothecommunitysinceherhusbandleftherforhercousin."

  "Did that happen to you? Anthony, I'm very lost. I don’t know what to do or where to go.MaybeIdeservethisforbeingabadperson."

  "Badperson,dear?Youwerealwayslovelytome.WhenIdied...doyouknowwhatwas thefirstthingIdid?Ishookmyhead,andwenttoseeyou.Butyoudidnotseeme.That'showI knewIdied."

  Youneverknowhowmuchofanimpactyoumakeonotherpeople.Smallactsforyoumay

  besomethinggreatforothers.PerhapsIwasn’tsobadafterall.IsmiledtothinkthatatleastI was good to someone. My scale of values ​and priorities was beginning to change. Was I becomingagoodpersonafterIdied?OrhadIactuallyalwaysbeen?

  "Anthony,I'msosorry."

  "They scheduled for me to go upstairs with the others. But I've decided to stay here and gossip.I'llhavetimetogoupstairs."

  "Gossiping?—busybodies.Howdisgusting!Andwhatintheworlddoyougossipabout, Anthony?"

  Hisanswerwasamischievoussmile,justlikethatofachildplottinghisnextprank.

  "Dear,Ihavetogo.Theneighborontheeighthfloorisintheshower,aspectacleInever miss.Bye!"

  "Anthony.Anthony,no!Anthony!"

  ButAnthonywasgone.IthoughtabouttimesIshowered.CursethosetimesIdidn’tweara bikini.

  I continued to wander the streets of New York in the purest John Lennon style. If the living knewaboutthis,theywoulduseitasawaytoexpressthemselvesoften.Andsuddenly...Wow!

  Whatafeeling.Aphysicalsensationbuttheotherwayaround.Ifeltmybodydetachedandfar fromme.Toofar.Somuch,thatIhadtogoandwandertotheotherendoftheplanet.It’sbeen dayssincemysincemybodywasrepatriatedtoSpain.Themyththatthedeadattendtheirown funeral,istrue.Oratleastinmycase.

  Chicago,Illinois.Agoodnumberofpeoplewerecryingunconsolablyinfrontofmybody lockedinacoffinandsurroundedbyflowers.Anunpleasantscene,justplainugly.IfiguredI should comfort the living by placing my hand on the shoulder of each person present at my

  funeral;theymightfeelasuddenchilloratouchofwarmth.Theywouldlookattheirshoulder and see nothing, only the feeling that someone invisible accompanied them. Maybe someone would end up in the madhouse. That idea made me laugh. The morgue was full of dead like me.Buttheywerequiet,inpeace.ExceptforTheodore,anoldmanrunningdownthecorridors shouting"Alright!Alright!Icanwalk,Icanwalk!Andwithoutmywalker!"

  Isawmyparents.TheywerecryingalongwithmybrotherAdrianwhowasaccompanied

  by his wife Irene. My sister Miriam, however, handed out business cards about from her newly-built catering business somewhere. "I feel like I have to give you these cards under thesecircumstances"...Shecommentedtoeachperson.Shealwaysenviedmeandalwaysdid inappropriatethingslikethis.Whatabummer.

  There were models, lots of models. And some classmate, family members, but ...

  friends?Truefriends?Boyfriends?Animportantperson?Atleastone?That"firstlove",that

  "manofmylife"thatInevergottoknow...actuallythatroomwasuninhabitedbylove.

  "Iwarnedyou,Laura.Ialwaystoldyouthatyouwouldendupalone.Yousee?Iwasnot mistaken-thosewordscouldonlybe..."

  "Grandma!Didyoucometogetme?"

  "Notonyourlife.Icouldn’tstandyoualive,Icannotstandyounow.Thedogdidn’teven comebecausehedidn’twanttoputupwithyou."

  "Well,that'swhyIheardyouweresocharming."

  "You would probably have some kind of ulterior motive. An inheritance perhaps? That's whyyouwerecharming.Isn’tthatright?”

  Let's recap. What intentions did I have with old Anthony? Going shopping? Throwing trash? Come now! That does not make a top-notch model... unless ... I heard Anthony's old voice saying, "You were always charming to me." But what I failed to recall was that I was always charming because I thought he would leave me some of his rich heritage. The damn son-of-a-bitch gave all his money to beneficiary and my "disinterested" favors were all for nothing.Itwastrue...Iwasneveragoodperson.Notunderneathnoragainstthebackgroundof anything.

  "Okay.Whatareyoudoinghere?"

  "Actually,nothing.Ijustwantedtosavorthemoment"

  "Evendeadyoustilldothat?"

  "I am doing it now." My grandmother smiled. "Listen, hear what your mother says about you.Mydaughterwasalwaysablessedsaint."

  My parents, who had stopped crying, and were now talking to my Uncle Ernesto, who listenedpatiently,andtriedtocomfortthem.

  "Shewasalwaysthebestateverything...butshewasso...herheartwasso..."mymother triedtosay.

  "Conceited Carol. Our daughter was so egotistical," my father finished. "We hadn’t seen herforyears;shedidn’twanttoknowanythingaboutus.Onlybecauseweweren’tpartofher world,Iimagine."

  "She was ashamed to admit that her mother had scrubbed floors and his father was a plumber,"mymotherexplaineddisappointedly.MyuncleErnestonoddedinagreement.

  "Well, she never valued the important things in life. Like family," my uncle Ernesto concluded,likehewasinaGodfather,whilewaitingformyparents’approval,mybrotherand mysister-in-lawwithabunintheovenwere...Wait!Iwasgoingtobeaunt!Ididn’tknow...

  "Never uncle," said Adrian. I called her a hundred times to tell her she was going to be auntinAugust.Butshewouldn’tpickupthephoneandneverreturnmycalls.Igaveup,"my brotherexplainedbitterly.

  Ididn’twanttohearthemanymore.Mygrandmotherstoodbesideme,nodding,smilingand laughing,likeitwasallsomekindoffunnyjoke.Ifmyfamilycouldn’tevenspeakwellofme, whatdidIdeserve?Togotohell?Whenyoudie,youaresupposedtobethenicest,thebest, andnoonedarestospeakbadlyofyou.Well,dyingisnotwortheveryonespeakingabouthow you’rethegreatest.Themodelsdidn’thavemanynicethingstosayaboutmeeither.Awitch?

  Excuseme?

  "Shewassuchawitch,rememberwhenshetoreEmma'sdressinthatparade?"Thered-hairedmodelaskedapaleblondgirlwhocouldn’tremembermyname.

  "Yes...itwasawful.Weallknewitwasher.Whatabitch..."

  Ididn’tevenrememberthatlittleprank...Butitwashilarious,right?

  "I'vehadenoughfortoday,Grandma.Iamgettingoutofhere."

  "Andwheredoyouthinkyou'regoing?"

  "Someonetoldmetowait,becausesomethinghadbeenpreparedforme."

  Mygrandmotherlookedatmeandsmiled.ThistimeIcouldseeahintofcompassioninher eyes. She didn’t make fun of me, she even seemed to understand me. Realizing that I’d been wronginmanyfacetsofmylife
oratleastintheimportantones,whichatthetimeweren’tso importanttome.

  "Iguesseveryonedeservesasecondchance,"mygrandmothersaidwithresignation."Saint Peterwillinformyouaboutit,forsure."

  "SanPedro?Isn’theapriestorsomething?"

  "Showalittlerespect,child.Don’tyouknowhowtorespectothers?"

  "I'vegottoaskyouorI'llbust.Haveyouhadafaceliftorsomething?"Mygrandmother’s face,whodiedmorewrinkledthanaraisin,wassmootherthanNicoleKidman’s.

  "Of course, child. In heaven, there are little angels that inject you with Botox as soon as youarrive."

  "Forreal?"

  Rightthen,mygrandmothergavemeagoodsmack.Thefeelingwasstrange.Itdidn’thurt, butshakeitgavemeproducedanuncomfortabletinglingintheneck.

  "I'mnotgoingtowasteanymoretimewithyou.Hillaryiswaitingformetoplaypetanque.

  Bye!"

  Shevanished.AndIwasleftalonewiththevoicesinthebackgroundrelishinginwhata baddaughter,sister,niece,friend,companionofcatwalks,Iwas...Whatapity,yes...soyoung

  ...intheprimeoflife,withsomanygoals...butselfish,stuck-up,maliciousandself-absorbed.

  Awitch,thatwhatIwas.Iwaitedforasign.Somethingthatwouldsay"Let'sgetoutofhere!

  Youdon’tbelonghereanymore",orconvincemetojoininmygrandmother'spetanquegame andHilariajusttogetonhernerves...orsendtheangelstoinjectmewithBotoxtoeliminate somewrinkleofexpressionfromsomuchstress.Nothing.Therewasnothing.

  IlookedatoldTheodore,whokeptshoutinghappilynowfreeofhiswalker.Andthere,in thedingyroomofthefuneralhomewherepeoplewaitedtoentertheprivateroomswheretheir deadlay;Behindtheoldmanandbesidesomewhiteflowers,Isawarayoflight.Itwassmall, andbarelynoticeablebutitwasmine.Iknewwhatitwas.Iwasattractedtothelightandwent towardsitlikeabug.AsIapproached,itgrewbiggerandbrighter...untilthelightgaveway to a black tunnel. I stopped. I looked at Theodore who stopped shouting to see what I was doing.Iwasafraid,but...Wasthereanythingworsethanstayingthereandhearingthewailing andhowbadIwasinlife?Idecisivelywentintothetunnel.Itwaslongwithnolight;noend couldbeseen.IthoughtabouthowluckyitwouldbeifIfoundJohnLennonsinging"Imagine allthepeople..."toentertainmeandnottothinkaboutifsomethingbadwaswaitingtohappen tomeinthehereafter.WasIheadingtotheafterlife?Ididn’tevenknowthatmeant.Istarted hummingLennon'ssong.AndIthoughtofClaudiaandherwords"somethingisbeingprepared foryou."Shesaiditwithasmile,soitcouldn’tbeanythingbad.Right?Right?Ikeptgoing.

  Moreandmore...timebecameeternal.IevennoticedIwassweatingandIhighlydoubtthatit was the soul sweat. I remembered the countless hours on top of a stationary bike and then imagesofmychildhoodcametomyhead.Iwasahappylittlegirl,withlotsoftoysandtwo painintheassolderbrothersthatalwayshadtoberight.Isawmymother'ssmile,thecalmand peacefullookofmyfather.Mygrandmother'stownsermons.Thesea....itswarmbreeze,the summerdays...MydogRussellwaggingitstailastoindicateitwastimetotakeawalkonthe banksoftheriver.Theriver!Whatasenseofpeace...nothingbadcouldhappentome.And suddenly, the frenzied movement of Milan, Rome, London, Paris, New York ... fashion runways,heels,voicesshoutingfromeveryside.Flashes,lights,manylights...and...LIGHT!

  Therewaslightattheendofthetunnel.Irantoit.Ipushedthroughalargewoodendoorwith solid gold around it and figures of heavenly angels on their knobs. Everything was white, bright. Immediately, I figured the man with the red-haired beard, dressed in a robe who had beenwaitingformeontheothersidewasSaintPeter,thepriestmygrandmothertoldmeabout.

  Becauseofthecolorofhisbeard,helookedmorelikeKingHenryVIIIthananypriestI’dever seen. I didn’t know too many priests, and with that being said.... the few I had seen were alwayswellshavedanddidn’tlookashippylikehim.

  Chapter2

  SANPEDROISCUTE

  (Hedoesn’tfeelthesameaboutme)

  SaintPeterstaredatme.Istartedathim.Inmyhead,theAceofBasesongsounded,"Goon andgonow..."Yes,Iwantedtoforgeteverythingandgetoutofthere.

  Saint Peter shook his head disapproving of something oblivious to me. Maybe he wasn’t fondAceofBase.Ismiledsohewouldlikeme,hedidn’tsmileback.Ilookedaround.There werenoangels,butthepurityofawhitecolorineverycorner,reassuredmethatmyplacewas nothell.Toputanotherway,I’lltellyouthatIwasinahugeroom.Ican’ttellyouwhetherit wassquare,roundortriangular;itseemedtohavenocornersorend.

  "Peter,keepingallthiscleanmustreallycostyou,right?"Iwantedtobreaktheice.

  SaintPetermadenoreactiontomyjoke.Besidehimwasagold-platedtableandalarge navybluevelvetchair.Apparently,therewasnoeconomiccrisisinheaven.Hesatdownapile ofpapersbeforehim.Helookedatthemforamomentandlookedatmesternly.

  "Laura,Laura,Laura..."heshookhishead.

  "Peter,Peter,Peter...You’reSaintPeter,right?"

  "Yes. I am St. Peter; I receive the souls that reach heaven. Or another destination..." he answered,givingahaloofmysterytohissharpwords.

  "Iget to goto heaven?" Icannot believe this, I’mso grateful becauseI was beginning to doubtthat..."

  "Notsofastyounglady,"interruptedSanPedro,risingfromhischair."Thisisnottheplace foryou.Atleastnotyet."

  "Whatdoesthatmean?"

  "Youmustgoback,Laura."

  "Goback?"

  "Tolife"

  "Butwhat’sthegoodnewsyouhaveme,Peter?WillIbereincarnated?Please,please,I needtobeacelebrity'sdaughter.Tall,thinandthatnomatterhowmuchIeat,Inevergaina pound...Thatwouldbeverymuchappreciated."

  St. Peter began to laugh. With audacity, without dissimulation. I think I had chosen the wrong career. I should have been a standup comic, because apparently, the rookie dead lady crackedupeveryoneshemet.

  "Okay.Where’smyangel?Ihaven’tseenhimyetandIneedhelp."

  "Anangelhasn’tbeenassignedtoyouyet.Because,asItoldyou,you'renotgoingtostay here,"herepeated,pointingtothedoorthatIhadenteredthroughearlier,andwhereawoman appeared somewhat disoriented. Young, about my age and very average. On the small side, chubby,andattractivebutnotasspectacularasIwasinlife.St.Peterpointedandannounced,

  "Laura,meetMarta,yournewbody."

  "What?Martaasked.Whatdoyoumeanhernewbody?Whataboutme?"

  "I'm sorry to tell you this but your time is up. Hasn’t Zechariah, your guardian angel, informedyouaboutthis?"

  "Let's see ... there must’ve been some confusion or something," I interrupted in dismay.

  "Peter,howcouldyouexpectmetogobackinthiswoman'sbody?LetmeremindyouthatIam areputabletopmodelonaphysicallyfitlevel,andthesolesofherfeetdon’tevencomeclose tobeingasgoodasminewere."

  "Excuse me, what’s wrong with my physique, sweetie? Many wished they had it!"

  interjectedtheoffendedMarta.

  "Glasses. You wear glasses. Myopia? Astigmatism? You're not thin, I bet you have chocolatemilkandmuffinseverymorningandyourassiscoveredincellulite.Youdonottake sidesatall!Thathairwithoutshine,uneven,thosedarkcirclesfromnotsleepingenough...no makeuptocoverthosespotsonyourskin..."Isaidunintentionallyoffendingheragain.

  "They are freckles. And everyone likes freckles," answered Marta sulkily. In part, she understoodwhyIwasinabadmood,Ijusthaddied.

 
"Well,Idon’tlikefreckles.AndthismanissayingthatIhavetooccupythisbody?Idon’t knowanythingaboutthiswomanorherlife!HowamIgoingtoreturnwithoutknowingwhoI am?Thisiscrazy!"Isaid,expectingalittlecompassionfromSanPedro.

  "TakeiteasyLaura.Whenyougoback,you’llhaveenoughhelptoorientyourselfandstart living,"explainedSanPedrowithallthepatiencehewascapableof.

  "Thisisnotmakinganysense;Ireallydonotunderstand..."Icontinuedinexasperation.

  "Laura,it'ssimple.Youreturntoearth,tolife,withMarta'sbodybecauseyoursisalready underground.Asanexceptionalmeasure,you’llrememberwhoyouwereinyourotherlifeas doallthosewhoreturnwithabodythathasbeenlivingonearthforyears,butbeware!Reveal this to no one. Marie Antoinette and Albert Einstein among many others, didn’t meet a good end in their new lives because they remembered who they were in the previous life and scatteredittothefourwinds."

  "Andme?Whataboutme?"Martacontinuedtoaskindignantly.

  "Marta, look over there-" Saint Peter finally smiled, and squinted his eyes. "They are waitingforyou..."

  Martabegantosmileatthesightoftwotall,slender,glitteringfiguresapproaching.Asthey drew near, they turned from being two slim figures full of light, to becoming a plump and unattractivemanandwoman.

  "Dad! Mom!" Marta's tears welled up in her eyes. She looked at us full of peace and happinessandfinally,shetookherfatherandhermotherbythehandandmeltedintheshining light,disappearingbeforeoureyes.

  "Okay,verywell,averybeautifulscenePeter.Andnow?

  "Now,it'stimetogoback."Ihavemanysoulstoreceive,soIcan’tentertainyourpresence anymore.Cheerstothegoodlife,younglady."

  Chapter3

  MARTA

  (Andmytremendouspainintheneck)