The Ups and Downs of Being Dead

by M. R. Cornelius

  Robert tuned out the rest of the conversation. He drifted through the doors and ambled down the hallway, his thoughts on his own wife and daughter. If Amanda had been in a similar situation, would she have told the story of Rachel’s only prom night?

  Rachel wanted to look for a vintage gown at Junkman’s Daughter, but Amanda would have none of that. She dragged Rachel to Phipps Plaza and insisted she choose a slinky silk jersey in a bold turquoise with rhinestone straps. When Rachel came downstairs to greet her prom date, Robert had to choke back a laugh.

  She had stitched multi-colored scarves around the skirt like a belly dancer, and had cut out a large diamond of jersey fabric in front so her navel showed. Then she’d glued Froot Loops onto the rhinestones along the straps. She even had Froot Loops dangling from the sheer square of chiffon that she’d draped like a mask across her mouth.

  Amanda’s rage brought tears to her eyes. And Rachel ripped the wound deeper by twirling and posing there in the foyer. Her date, some kid with spiked hair and a string tie that bordered on obscene, praised her handiwork as genius. He even nibbled at one of the pieces of cereal on Rachel’s shoulder strap.

  When it became obvious that Amanda had no intention of taking pictures, Robert wrenched the camera from her clutched fingers and snapped several shots. He wondered now if the film had ever been developed.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  By the time Robert got back, Angie was out of surgery. He found Maggie and Suzanne hovering over the girl’s body in one of those glass booths of the ICU.

  The two women glanced up when he came into the room, then turned back to Suzanne’s daughter.

  Her head was wrapped in bandages like a turban; her face was swollen. Under her eyes, dark blue bruises pooled and bled over the bridge of her nose. There were lots of scratches, probably from shattering glass. A tube inserted in her mouth was taped securely, and a machine breathing for her whooshed steadily. Her left arm and right leg were in casts.

  “Any news?” he asked.

  “Nah,” Maggie said. “We won’t get any official report until someone from the family meets with the doctor. And then I’m sure all he’s going to tell them is that the next twenty-four hours are critical. It’s their standard response to all questions because they don’t know what to expect either.”

  “So your husband is on the way?” he asked Suzanne.

  She shook her head. “My husband died four years ago. My parents are coming from Wisconsin.”

  With a tip of her head, Maggie signaled for Robert to meet her in the hallway.

  “I’m going back to the center and tell Asa where we are and what’s going on,” she said.

  “What?”

  She was going to leave him with Suzanne? What if the daughter died? He’d be stuck consoling the grieving mother. On the other hand, if he went with Maggie to the center, he might get stuck holding down the fort with Foghorn Leghorn.

  “Well hurry back,” he said.

  Once Maggie disappeared, Robert stalled out in the hallway, watching Suzanne through the glass. If he went back into the room, he was sure she’d want to talk. What was he supposed to say? Of course, Maggie never said much. She just listened, and whenever Suzanne ran out of steam, the old bat just popped out another question. Now all he needed was a question.

  Slowly, he eased through the glass, like some spy trying to sneak past a sentry. It didn’t work. The moment he eased into a corner, Suzanne looked up.

  “I don’t get it,” she said. “Do you two just hang out at the hospital to console dead people like me?”

  “Oh, no,” Robert said. “It’s like Maggie said. We were standing there when the accident happened. Although, I must admit, Maggie’s a bit of a busybody. She likes to get right into other people’s business.”

  “Is she your mother?”

  “Dear God, no.” Robert shuddered at the thought. “The truth is, we’re both in limbo…waiting to come back.”

  Suzanne wrinkled her nose in confusion, and Robert proceeded to tell her about cryonics. He had barely scratched the surface of perfusion when she interrupted.

  “So, will Maggie come back the same as she is now?”

  Robert snorted a little chuckle. “We don’t really know, but I’m sure if they figure out a way to bring us back, they’ll be able to fix the wrinkles and sagging jowls.”

  “I don’t know,” she said. “It seems like a real gamble to me.”

  “A gamble!” Robert blurted. “I was dead. Done. If I never get thawed out, how will that be different from being reduced to ashes, or getting buried in a box? Other than investing some of the money I won’t be spending any time soon, what did I have to lose?”

  Odd that he was defending his decision to Suzanne when he’d been doubting his actions with Maggie just days ago.

  “I guess you’re right.” Suzanne looked down at her daughter. “If I’d known about cryonics, I might have gotten on the waiting list like you and Maggie.”

  “Believe me, it was just luck that I found out about it. But mark my words. Something big will happen in the next few years and a lot more people will be signing up for cryonics.”

  “I wonder why I’m still here? Doesn’t it seem like I should have gone to heaven or someplace? Or are there billions of ghosts wandering around out there?”

  “No, Maggie says you’re the exception. She thinks you’re hanging around to make sure your daughter’s okay.”

  “And then I’ll disappear?”

  “I honestly don’t know,” Robert said, pondering his next move. “Maybe you got some kind of 24-hour reprieve. You know, like if Angie had died moments after you, then you two could cross-over together?”

  Instead of wincing at his suggestion, her face smoothed into serene acceptance.

  “That’s interesting,” she said. “So the clock may be ticking.”

  Robert shrugged.

  “Too bad.” Suzanne scanned her eyes across the room and out into the hall. “I’d like to hang around. See what happens with Angie. See my grandchildren.”

  “No you don’t,” he said, but then regretted opening up that conversation. He thought of a quick diversion to take Suzanne’s attention away from family.

  “I was CEO of the Audrey’s Corporation but now I’m a nobody who’s stuck riding buses and staring at bad art.”

  He suddenly had her full attention.

  “You mean like Audrey’s clothing stores?”

  “That’s the one.”

  “Oh, my goodness,” she crooned. “I love to shop there. So does Angie.”

  Leaning back, she got a wistful look. “Your wife is so lucky. I suppose she can walk into one of your stores anytime she likes and take her pick.”

  “To tell you the truth, she never wore anything from Audrey’s unless she was modeling it.”

  “Modeling it?” Suzanne did a double take. “What does that mean?”

  “I was married to the original Audrey’s Girl, Amanda Litrell.”

  Her jaw dropped.

  “Oh, my.” A dreamy expression settled on her face. “I always thought she was beautiful. All curvy and soft. Not like those bony models with their sucked-in cheeks.”

  “Yeah, well, after she had two kids she got a lot more curvy and soft.”

  Suzanne patted her stomach. “A lot of women put on a few pounds after they have children.”

  “A few pounds?! Amanda ballooned out like the Pillsbury doughboy.”

  The smile on Suzanne’s face sank into a scowl. Then her jaw dropped, and she gasped.

  “Wait a minute! She was just killed,” she said. “I saw it on the news.”

  Robert nodded. “Yeah, I was there.”

  “But…how can you talk about her like that,” Suzanne sputtered. “Why aren’t you still with her? Didn’t she stay like I did?”

  Great. Now he’d have to explain the argument he had with Amanda just moments after she was shot to death. And probably the details of his wife and attorney in bed together. This was w
hy men didn’t get into meaningful conversations. They never ended until the guy somehow got blamed for everything.

  “No,” he said, vaguely waving his hand, “she didn’t stay.”

  An awkward silence wedged itself between various mechanical beeps and whooshes in the room. Suzanne sat quietly, studying her fingernails. Then she wandered over to have a closer look at the machines keeping her daughter alive.

  There was no clock in the room, but when a different nurse came in later, Robert figured it was a shift change. The nurse checked all the monitors and took Angie’s pulse. When she lifted an eyelid and shine a light in her eye, Angie flinched.

  Her eyes fluttered a few times before staying open. Suzanne rushed to her side, but of course, it was useless.

  “Angie,” the nurse said in a commanding voice, “you’ve been in a car accident. You’re in the hospital. Do you understand?”

  Angie gave a weak nod. Her head thrashed a bit and her eyes widened.

  “You have a breathing tube in your mouth,” the nurse told her. “But now that you’re awake, I’ll get the doctor. Maybe we can take that out. Okay?”

  She nodded again, stronger this time.

  Suzanne slumped onto Angie’s chest with a sob.

  “Oh, thank God,” she said. “My baby. My sweet girl.”

  She even attempted to brush Angie’s hair back.

  “Very good,” the nurse told Angie. “You just hang tight. Someone will be back shortly.”

  Sure enough, a different nurse rolled in a cart with a tray of medical knick-knacks, and a doctor swooshed in a while later.

  He told Angie to squeeze his fingers, asked her a few questions, then told her he was going to take the tube out of her throat.

  “This will be a bit unpleasant,” the doctor said. “But if you blow real hard when I tell you to, we’ll get it over with quickly, okay?”

  Angie blew as instructed and the doctor pulled this long tube out. There was lots of gagging and choking, but eventually Angie settled back on her pillows with a sigh.

  “Better?” the doctor asked as he held her wrist, his fingers on her pulse.

  “Yes,” she croaked.

  “The nurse will give you some ice chips. That will quench your thirst and ease that sore throat. Then I’m afraid you’re in for some more pain. The police want to ask you some questions about the accident.”

  The officer was just about to take a seat when Angie asked, “My mom. How’s my mom?”

  Remaining on his feet, the officer shook his head. “I’m afraid your mother didn’t make it. She could not be resuscitated at the scene of the accident.”

  Angie let out a wail that nearly brought Robert to his knees. There she lay, flat on her back, bruised and broken, and totally alone.

  “Oh, baby,” Suzanne cried along with her. “It’s okay. It’s okay.”

  Where the hell was Maggie? Robert stepped out into the hallway, but she was nowhere in sight. He wondered if he could pop back to the center during all this confusion and tell Maggie to get her butt back here. Robert would be more than happy to keep Asa company now.

  The policeman offered his condolences, his feet shuffling on the floor, his fingers sliding nervously along the band of his hat. Finally a nurse came in and sat on the edge of the bed, right on Suzanne, and took Angie’s hand.

  “Your grandparents are on their way,” she told Angie. “We just got a call from the airport.” She moved a strand of blood-caked hair off Angie’s forehead and tucked it to the side as she softly reassured the girl that everything would be all right.

  Suzanne moved away from her awkward position between Angie and the nurse. She tried to make eye contact with Robert, but he wasn’t going there. She expected some sort of comfort, but he had no idea what to do. He cursed himself again for not going back to the center with Maggie.

  With no one to talk to, Suzanne drifted over to the far side of the bed and perched next to Angie, stroking her hair as the policeman went through his painful questions.

  Robert wondered if Angie would be charged with vehicular homicide. Hopefully, the cop had the decency to wait until she was out of the hospital to hit her with that bad news.

  At some point, Robert felt a presence and turned to see a man in the doorway. He was handsome in his three-piece suit, his hair styled by a professional. Robert guessed the man was in his early thirties. He held a bouquet of red roses in both hands, like an offering.

  “Wow,” Robert muttered. “I wonder who he’s looking for.”

  Suzanne turned to look and groaned. “That’s Mark, the man Angie’s been dating.”

  “Are you serious? He’s the creep?”

  She folded her arms in contempt. “Look at that suit.”

  “I know,” Robert said. “I’m guessing it’s custom-fitted. And that’s a fabulous tie.”

  “No,” Suzanne whined. “I mean it’s so pretentious.”

  “I think he has impeccable taste.”

  Mark paled a bit at the sight of Angie’s injuries. If he turned and ran, Robert wouldn’t blame him. But he didn’t.

  “Oh, honey,” he gasped.

  Jolted out of her misery, Angie raised a tentative hand to smooth her hair, like that might help. But Mark obviously didn’t care. With a rush, he charged into the room, tossing the flowers carelessly on the chair. The nurse barely had time to stand before Mark brushed past her and sat in the same small indention on the edge of the bed.

  The police officer snapped his notebook closed. Maybe he thought Mark was Angie’s attorney.

  “Oh, brother,” Suzanne mumbled. “He’s putting on quite a show.”

  “Angie, baby,” Mark moaned. Taking her hand, he kissed her fingers, then brushed them against his cheek. “I just found out.”

  Robert tried to look past the swollen, bruised face to imagine what Mark saw in her. The man oozed confidence and success, but Angie had the same mousy hair and plain features as her mother. What was the attraction?

  “I’ve been calling your cell for hours,” Mark told Angie, “but I figured you had it turned off.”

  Angie’s fat bottom lip trembled.

  “My mother—”

  “I know,” Mark said. “I heard.”

  A tear trickled out of Angie’s puffy eye, and Mark quickly dabbed it with a tissue from the bedside stand.

  Tears gushed. She bawled like an orphaned calf, her mouth a gaping chasm. Her anguish didn’t faze Mark in the least.

  Lifting tubes, he managed to wrangle closer to Angie. He cradled her gently in his arms and let her tears soak into his fabulous suit.

  Robert turned to Suzanne. “You think this is all an act?”

  “No,” she whined. “I don’t know. But this isn’t the way he was last night at dinner.”

  She went through the motion of wringing her hands, but when she didn’t get any tactile satisfaction, she splayed her fingers in front of her face and stared at the useless appendages. Then she dropped her arms to her sides.

  “He was so patronizing, so condescending to both Angie and me.”

  “I don’t know,” he said. “He seems genuinely concerned to me.”

  Suzanne actually stamped her foot. She might have stormed out of the room, but at that moment an elderly couple tottered through the door. The grandparents.

  They were about what Robert expected. Suzanne’s mother wore her gray hair twisted into a knot at the nape of her neck. She was petite, like Suzanne, and still shapely for a woman her age. But the drab beige slacks and white blouse did nothing to add color to her pallor.

  Suzanne’s father was a good six feet tall, with a full head of gray hair, and a stature that said he’d been successful for a very long time. Did Suzanne interpret his confidence as patronizing, too?

  The room was suddenly overflowing with people. The nurse made a quick exit, and after introductions and the passing of business cards, the policeman left as well.

  There were more tears of course. Mark politely stepped aside to let the fa
mily grieve. Angie ranted that her mother’s death was all her fault, and the grandparents dutifully denied her culpability.

  Robert had decided he was ditching the whole scene when, at last, Maggie showed up.

  “Where the hell have you been?” he asked.

  “There was a bit of trouble at the center,” she said, glancing beyond Robert’s shoulder to take in all the new faces.

  “Well, I’m out of here,” he insisted.

  Maggie patted the air with her hand. “Sure, sure. Let me just say goodbye to Suzanne.”

  The drama had eased up a bit. Mark offered to find a second chair and dashed out the door. Maggie took a moment to ogle the man before waving Suzanne over.

  She appeared more stricken with grief than before, if that was possible.

  “It looks like Angie’s got plenty of support now,” Maggie told Suzanne. “I’ve got a bit of an emergency I need to take care of. Would you like to come along?”

  “No, no,” Suzanne said. “I want to stay here.”

  “I understand,” Maggie nodded. “We’ll be back in a couple days to check in on you, okay?”

  Again with the zombie nod. What was wrong with Suzanne all of a sudden?

  “Funny, isn’t it?” she said to Robert. “I’m the only one who doesn’t like Mark. And now I don’t even know why. If I hadn’t jumped to conclusions, if I hadn’t forced my opinion on Angie, we never would have been arguing in her car.”

  She choked out a bitter laugh.

  “If I’d given him half a chance, I’d still be alive.”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Robert practically sprinted to the window in the waiting room at the end of the corridor. He dove to the sidewalk below and then waited for Maggie to catch up.

  “What a nightmare,” he said, shivering his torso like he was shaking off a clammy hand.

  “Don’t you feel any satisfaction in helping someone through a rough time?”

  “No,” he said. “Usually, when I stick my nose in someone else’s business, the only thing I end up with is a bruised nose.”