Death in Spades

by Abigail Collins

  “What about my reasons, mom?” Andy’s voice breaks slightly at the end of the question. He sounds like he’s crying. “I’m not a girl, I never have been. Ever since I was little, I’ve known who I really was. All I want you to do is accept me for that.”

  Part of me expects Andy’s mom to say something seething in response, but all she does is open the door further and walk out, not even bothering to shut it behind her. The bed groans as Andy moves around on it, his feet eventually thumping down on the floor.

  Andy’s problems make mine look like nothing in comparison. Guilt burns down my throat; I had no right to complain about my life to him when his is so much worse.

  He walks around his room for a few minutes, his feet

  thudding with every step. He opens one drawer, then closes it and opens another, but I don’t hear him pulling anything out of either. After a minute of silence, he speaks up, cutting through the tension in the air like a knife.

  “You can come out now, Terra.”

  If I could breathe, the wind would be knocked right out of me. I float through the door and stand sheepishly in front of him, my hands clasped at my waist. I give him my best puppy-dog eyes, but I’m pretty sure I look more like a deer caught in headlights.

  “It’s okay,” he says. “I would have listened in too. I can’t blame you for that.”

  I guess that’s a sign of how defeated he is – he doesn’t even try to reprimand me for snooping. His eyes are rimmed red, but he’s not crying; he looks like he could start at any moment, though.

  “You’re okay the way you are,” I tell him, the words leaving my mouth before I can think them through. “You’re Andy, and that’s okay. Your mom is just being an idiot.”

  He smiles up at me timidly, his hands still fidgeting with his sweater. “Thanks, Terra.”

  I want to hug him. I want to comfort him. Instead, I give him the most sincere smile I can manage and gesture to the bed, sitting down and patting the space beside me. He closes the door and sits next to me, his feet swinging over the edge of the bed.

  He’s never looked smaller than he does right now. I’ve never felt less alive.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Two days after I died, my body was moved to the morgue a couple of miles away from the hospital. My blood was drained, I was washed and dressed and made up like a doll. The mortician used too much make up; when I was placed in my casket, I didn’t even look like myself.

  I don’t really see the point in funerals. Your loved ones spend a ton of money on a huge wooden box that’s just going to decompose underground anyway, and mourn over a body that isn’t even yours anymore. It’s expensive and pointless; you’re going to end up as worm food no matter how well you’re dressed or how much foundation is caked onto your face.

  Reece’s body has already been dried out, and he’s wearing a suit and tie that makes his skin look pale in comparison. The bullet wound in his chest is covered with layers of fabric, and his hands have been laid out across his torso so that they nearly touch the opposite shoulders. There’s gel in his hair that makes it lie flat, and rouge on his cheeks that I’m guessing are supposed to make him

  look more alive. Which is really stupid considering he’s about as

  dead as he could be, and everybody who’ll see him all dressed up knows it.

  “Is that really what I look like?” Reece asks, floating beside me a couple of feet above the body being painted and primped.

  “Not at all,” I tell him, shaking my head. “You’re darker, and you have a lot more zits that they actually did a pretty good job of covering. I like your hair better curly, though. And you look better without the suit.”

  Reece smiles, his forehead creased. He looks like he’s going to be sick, and he keeps glancing down at his body like he expects it to leap out at him any moment. Even knowing as little as I do about the man, I’d guessed that Reece would be squeamish and have trouble sticking by his body on his own. I had no other choice, since Mellie was God-knows-where after I died, but Reece is taking this entire experience a lot harder than I did. Although, my death wasn’t a surprise, but waking up afterwards was.

  The autopsy was brief, and Reece had waited outside of the building while it took place. That was where I found him yesterday – sitting with his legs crossed on the ground, his head in his hands. Part of me was tempted to go inside and take a peek, but I sat down next to Reece and talked him through it instead. Who knew ghosts could get panic attacks?

  “Besides,” I say, jerking Reece’s attention away from the mortician’s hands, “you should have seen me when they finished. I

  was covered in so much makeup I barely even recognized myself, and they made me wear a dress. Do I look like the type of girl who

  likes being dressed up?”

  Reece shakes his head, the motion stiff. Below us, a handkerchief is being placed in the breast pocket of his body’s suit and his hair is being combed down even more. His skin looks bleached and uneven, the peaks of his pimples dotting his neck and chin.

  When Reece died, he was wearing a dark blue button-up shirt and faded jeans that looked a lot more natural on him than the starched black suit does now. I’m still donning the army green jacket and dark leggings I wore when I killed myself, and Mellie… She’s dressed like a present-day hooker even though she claims she died over ten years ago. And she still won’t tell me how it happened.

  I’ve long since given up on trying to make any sense of Mellie.

  “You’re pretty, though,” Reece says suddenly. “Without any makeup. I can’t imagine why they felt the need to change you.”

  I can’t blush, since I technically don’t have any blood vessels, but my face still feels like it’s heating up starting at my neck. I don’t think I’ve ever been complimented on my looks by a guy. Great, the first time a man shows any interest in me he’s dead.

  “Thanks. You look better without it too. I think they just do this for the family. I guess it would be pretty horrific if you showed up for your own funeral looking like you were actually deceased.”

  Reece chuckles softly, the tension visibly easing from his shoulders.

  Mellie joins us at the funeral, standing – floating – in the back with Reece and I as we watch the mourners file in one by one.

  The ceremony takes place in one corner of the cemetery, with

  folding chairs set up in the grass and flowers positioned on all sides. When I died, there was a small gathering at the church my dad used to take me and Olivia to when we were little; a few people I knew and some I didn’t came and paid their respects and ate from a buffet contributed to by the congregation. As far as I know, Reece’s family didn’t do that for him, but I haven’t really paid much attention to where he’s been the past week. There could have been a service just for him and I wouldn’t have known to come.

  Reece’s mother is at the front of the crowd of people, tears pouring down her face and her hands clasped tight over her mouth. She’s wearing a beautiful black gown with a dark shawl across her shoulders, and her hair is pinned up into a loose bun. Her mascara has run down both of her eyes, but she just wipes at it with the back of her hands and smears it around more.

  “I can’t look at her,” Reece whispers to me, speaking quietly even though there’s no way anyone could possibly hear him. “I think she might be why I’m still here, but I can’t see her like this. It’s horrible.”

  A few older people in the group look like they might be related to Reece, with the same dark skin and wide eyes, and two young women standing on either side of Reece’s mom are probably his sisters. Reece told me they were away at college when he was killed, otherwise they might have been his father’s targets too. They just got lucky, and Reece didn’t, and the world is so very, very unfair.

  I put one hand on Reece’s shoulder, squeezing lightly. He

  gives me a weak smile in return.

  His mother stands at the front of the crowd and reads a speech off of a piece of paper tuc
ked in her clutch. I can’t understand half of what she says; she’s too far away and she keeps stopping every few words to let out a painful sob that makes her entire body shake. Reece looks like he’s about to collapse, and his eyes remain firmly focused on the ground.

  “I’m sorry,” he says after his mother finishes talking. “I can’t stay here. I have to go.”

  Mellie and I watch as Reece flies away, phasing through the fence and running quickly through the air. I haven’t given much thought to whether or not ghosts can cry – I’ve always assumed that they can’t – but just before he turns away I think I see a flicker of moisture in his eyes.

  I don’t follow him; I know better than anybody else that he needs to be alone right now.

  I keep an eye on Reece’s mother, wondering if my own mother would have cried like that for me if she was still alive. Was I sad when she died? I can’t remember. Every memory I have of her is

  fleeting and surreal, like I’m watching a movie instead of seeing actual glimpses of my past. She seems like a nice person, from what I’ve seen of her, but I don’t know the whole story. All I know is she died a long time ago, and I’ve been broken up ever since.

  I must have loved her. Her death wouldn’t have impacted me so much if I hadn’t.

  “Reece will be okay,” Mellie says, staring straight ahead at the closed casket. “He’s stronger than he seems. He just needs to

  move past his death and let go of his mother, both of which will just take some time. I’m sure you’ve guessed by now that he’ll be going to Heaven when he does leave.”

  I nod, glancing at her out of the corner of my eye. “What about me? You know where everyone’s destined to go. Where will I end up when I move on?”

  Mellie is silent for a moment, her face pensive. A preacher is reading out loud from a bible at the front of the congregation, all of whom are clasping their hands in prayer. I fold my hands together in my lap out of respect.

  “I’m not supposed to say,” Mellie tells me, her hands at her sides. “It’s against the rules. Nobody can know where they’re going until it’s time; it could influence their choices.”

  “You mean I could still end up in Hell if I make the wrong decisions? Even though I’m dead and what I do doesn’t really matter anymore?”

  Mellie nods, and I remember the story she told me a couple of weeks ago – about the person she grew close to and eventually ended up killing. That could just as easily happen to me, and change

  my destiny forever. I could go to Hell for some stupid mistake, when people like Reece’s father earn their stay.

  Does that mean Mellie is going to Hell? Is that why she’s been stuck here for so long – because she’s doing all she can to avoid moving on and ending up somewhere even more unpleasant? You’d think there would be a God somewhere who regulates all of that stuff; someone who helps the people who get stuck and makes sure those who deserve to go to Hell end up there.

  But Mellie isn’t a bad person. I don’t believe she would ever kill someone on purpose, and that makes all of the difference. An accident can’t possibly mean eternal damnation.

  “Death isn’t an excuse,” she says. “If you’re a bad person who hasn’t acted on your impulses, you still deserve what you get. You can die having lived a perfect life, but it’s your soul that matters.”

  Your soul. That’s what I am, isn’t it? I’m a soul, my own soul. Shouldn’t I be some reflection of the kind of person I was, then? All I see when I look down is a chubby girl with thick hands and worn clothes. That must be all I am.

  Maybe that’s why Mellie looks so beautiful. I wish I was a beautiful person, but obviously I’m not.

  “So I could still mess things up? That’s reassuring.”

  “I’m sure you won’t.” Her words hit me with a sting of guilt. It feels like she’s specifically talking about Andy.

  “Maybe I will. You don’t know that much about me. I’m not a good person, Mel. I killed myself.”

  “That doesn’t make you a bad person.” The preacher finishes his sermon but I don’t unclasp my hands. Reece’s mother steps forward and places a single flower on top of his casket, her fingers lingering on the wood like she can touch her son underneath; it’s a heartbreaking scene to witness.

  “You don’t know that.”

  “I know you’ve been seeing Andy behind my back,” she says, finally turning to look at me. “I’m not stupid, Terra. You’ve been gone for long periods of time and I’ve seen you at his house.”

  I don’t even bother asking Mellie how she knows where Andy lives. She seems to know everything. Instead, I clamp my mouth shut tightly and wait for her to yell at me. What’s she going to do? Forbid me from seeing Andy anymore; follow me around to make sure I don’t? Banish me to Hell ahead of schedule? There’s nothing she can threaten me with that I haven’t already done to myself.

  To my surprise, she doesn’t even raise her voice when she continues speaking.

  “Terra, you aren’t in trouble. I’m not angry.”

  I open my mouth, then close it again. Nothing I can think of would make any sense of what she just said.

  “I know I told you not to see him,” she says, continuing as if she can’t see me gaping like a fish next to her. “That was my mistake. You deserve to be happy just as much as he does.”

  “You don’t even know Andy. Why are you okay with this all of a sudden?”

  She shrugs, and I get the feeling there’s something she isn’t telling me. “Because you aren’t me. Just because I did something stupid in the past doesn’t mean that you will.”

  “Yeah, but that’s not the whole reason, is it? You’re always so vague. Either you aren’t telling me the truth, or you aren’t telling me all of it.”

  Mellie smirks, the exact opposite reaction I expected. The mourners have begun to leave, filing out of their seats and making their way to their respective vehicles. Reece’s mother is the last to go.

  “You don’t want to know,” Mellie says, as ominous as ever. “Just trust me, okay? You can see him; you have my permission. Isn’t that enough?”

  “No. I want to know why.”

  If I have to be persistent, I will be. I deserve some answers, and Mellie hasn’t been giving me nearly enough of them. She’s been telling Reece things she never told me, and I need to know why. Why am I so different?

  Mellie has never acted the same with me as with everyone else around here who died. When Esther died, Mellie was there right away helping her pass easier; with me, she waited until after I was in the ground to even make an appearance. She guided David straight to Heaven, but she can’t even tell me where I’m going or how I’m supposed to get there. She’s letting Reece in on all of the secrets she tried to keep from me, and now all of a sudden I’m her favorite? Something isn’t right. Mellie doesn’t just change her mind like that.

  “Are you sure?” she asks, giving me a moment to back down. I could. I could so easily just accept her permission and see Andy as much as I want without having to hide it from her. I could introduce Andy to Reece and we could all be friends – weird ghost-and-human friends, but still.

  But I can be just as persistent as Mellie when I want to be. I nod sharply, watching a crane slowly lower Reece’s casket into the ground.

  “Okay.” Mellie sighs. She looks tired. “You want to know

  why you can see Andy now? Because he’s going to die soon

  anyway. That’s why he can see you. His time has been set, and what you do from this point on doesn’t matter.”

  I feel like I’ve just been stabbed in the chest. My feet touch down on the ground shakily. No, no, no. This can’t be happening.

  “He’s going to die, Terra. I’m so sorry. You might as well say your goodbyes while you still have the chance.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  When I died, I wasn’t afraid of anything. I was calm, collected, and totally ready for what I was about to do. There was a little bit of fear leading up to it, but by t
he time the knife was pressing into my wrist I was so drained of emotions I felt numb. I wasn’t afraid, because I knew what I was doing was the right thing.

  I’ve never been more terrified than I am right now, and I’ve looked death in the face half a dozen times. But Esther and David and Reece… They were all nameless faces when they died. They meant nothing to me, and seeing them in pain was hard, but with Andy I just know it’s going to crush me.

  I don’t know what it is about that kid that’s got me so attached. Maybe it’s his puppy-dog eyes or his soft demeanor, or the fact that he’s cute in an unconventional way. He’s like a mixture of my kid-brother and a middle school crush; I like him, but I don’t quite know what that means.

  And now he’s going to die. I think I knew, in the back of my mind, that this day would come eventually. Why else would he be

  able to see me so clearly when no one else can? But Mellie had told me that her living friend had been able to see her, and she hadn’t been on the list of people set to die. Was she lying? It wouldn’t be the first time.

  The weight of the realization sends me reeling to the ground, my knees shaking so badly I have to sit down. I watch Reece’s casket descend into the ground and dirt pour in after it; the process is so mechanical, it feels detached from the actual funeral service. A crane lowering him down and shoveling the earth back over him – why bother buying an expensive coffin and spending so much time making him look good if this is the burial he gets? It’s so ungraceful, it’s jarring.

  If ghosts can cry, I’m not doing a very good job of it; my eyes feel wet, but no matter how much sadness weighs down on me, my cheeks remain dry. I shouldn’t have expected anything different. I am dead, after all.

  The dirt is packed down on top of Reece’s new grave. Mellie floats onto her knees and sits next to me; for some reason, her presence annoys more than comforts me.

  “I’m sorry,” she says again, her voice a bit gentler this time. “I really am. I know what it’s like to get attached and lose someone.”