How will Hallie handle this, though? I watch her.
“Ordinarily, I would love to go with you.” Hallie sips at a glass of water. “Really, I would.” Her pale skin seems to turn a different shade, grey perhaps? An invitation to a movie has this much of an effect on her? “But I’m not feeling myself.” She turns to my son. “Ron, I think you should take me home.”
What? But she should encourage Gord’s companionship. A man who is funny and has great dance moves and makes wonderful salad, when will we ever meet someone like that again? We’ll need companionship, whichever body we end up in.
“Sure, Mom, I’ll take you home just as soon as I pay the bill.” There’s that tinge of annoyance to his tone. He doesn’t believe Hallie, either. Probably he thinks it’s a ruse to get away from the residence and further discussion of moving here.
“Are you okay?” Gord asks.
Hallie dabs at her face with the serviette. She sounds quite breathless when she answers him. “Fine, just really tired.”
I don’t believe she is play-acting anymore. Why is my old body sweating so much?
Briana waves the server over and Ron hands her a credit card. We grab our coats, and in moments, we are out the door, no dessert, no coffee.
“Can I get your phone number, so I can call later and make sure you’re okay?” Gord asks as we head toward the elevator.
Hallie doesn’t even answer him. Can’t, it seems, as she continues to hyperventilate. She fans herself with her Elmwood brochure now. “I need to get some air,” she pants.
“Don’t worry,” Margret addresses Gord, “she won’t be alone. I’ll sit with her tonight till she falls asleep.”
Hallie still doesn’t answer.
Ron squints at Hallie now, frowning. Looks like he’s worried, too. He pulls a business card from his pocket and hands it to Gord. “Here. You can call me later. Thank you for your concern.”
Gord gets off at the ground floor with us.
Hardeep says he can find his own way home from the residence. “Hope you feel better,” he tells the real Hallie and gives me a quick peck on the cheek before taking off.
Gord continues with us all the way to the parking lot, where he shivers in his sports jacket as we climb into the car. Coming straight from his apartment, he’s not wearing a winter jacket.
I think someone should insist he go back inside; he’s going to catch his death of a cold. But instead he stands watching Hallie’s grey face as the Hurricane pulls away, giving us all a sad wave.
Ron drives down Walker’s Line to the QEW. Fast. I look around his shoulder toward the speedometer. Not even on the highway yet, and he’s speeding.
“Hey, look over there!” Linda points to the field near the on-ramp of the expressway. “Isn’t that the crazy hairless dog we took to the pound yesterday?”
I glance over, spot the wild black tufts of fur on the otherwise pink body, and realize she is right. What does that mean? I wonder. Why is Eli showing himself to us now? There’s a reason. There has to be. A cold finger runs down my spine. “Better turn the El-Q on,” I warn Hallie.
Struggling, Hallie pulls it from the purse. She slumps for a few moments, breathing hard. Finally, she reaches and mounts the El-Q on the dash, switches it on, and then collapses back against the seat, clutching at her arm.
Ron glances over at her. “Mom, you don’t look so great. Maybe you should take some nitroglycerine.”
“I’m fine,” Hallie gasps.
But I know that she doesn’t recognize what a heart attack feels like. Not caring what anyone makes of it, I unbuckle my belt now, reach over the seat, and grab the purse. Pulling out the vial of nitroglycerine, I tell her, “Open your mouth and lift your tongue.”
Hallie does as she is told.
I shake out a pill and pop it in Hallie’s mouth.
The nitroglycerine tumbles out. Hallie’s too weak to keep it in.
Ron grabs for it and the Hurricane wobbles back and forth for a moment. I feel myself being tossed from side to side and he misses the catch. Hallie’s head lolls to the side. “I’m taking you to the hospital!” Ron says. The Hurricane surges.
I get thrown backward but immediately scramble forward again.
That’s when it happens. A small pink-and-grey creature darts onto the highway and stops directly in the Hurricane’s path.
Eli.
His black eyes stare straight at the windshield, the tuft of hair on his head standing up defiantly.
“Don’t stop!” I warn Ron, grabbing his shoulder. We don’t have to do everything Eli wants. Free will after all. Ron doesn’t even like animals; this should be easy for him.
But he doesn’t listen.
Instead, he brakes hard, then steers wildly to the left.
Nobody’s there, we’re all safe.
But then he hits the gas pedal again, and the Hurricane leaps forward.
A few car lengths ahead, a gas tanker crawls along too slowly for the fast lane. There’s nowhere for the Hurricane to move to at the pace we are travelling.
“Damn!” Ron’s body slams back against the seat as his right leg straightens down.
To our right, an eighteen-wheeler rumbles along, effectively boxing us in.
“Move it!” Ron yells as he leans on the horn. Like a tuba hitting a sour note, it blasts out at the world. Neither truck makes a space for us. “I can’t slow down. The gas pedal’s sticking!”
The gap between us and the tanker closes rapidly.
I know from our last experience that the shoulder on the right side of the highway can accommodate us. But we can’t get to it. That stupid eighteen-wheeler won’t budge.
On the left side is a concrete guardrail.
We’re going to hit the tanker.
Last minute, Ron steers hard toward the concrete barrier. The Hurricane slams into the cement.
There’s a crash and a double gunshot.
Two small white clouds burst open in the front, then deflate like bubble gum. The airbags. Smoke fills the air. Without my seatbelt on, I bounce hard against the window, then the seat, then the window again.
The Hurricane rebounds off the cement and flips to its side, sliding back across four lanes of traffic. Miraculously, no one hits us and the car scrapes to a rest on the shoulder.
The darkness fades and I feel the sun warm on my face and the cool grass and hard ground beneath me. Where am I? Slowly I manoeuvre to my feet, hands holding my knees and pushing up. With a start, I notice my wrinkled, spotted hands. Oh no! I am back in my decrepit old shell. An organ plays, happy tinkling notes. In front of me stands a behemoth of a roller coaster. I see Eli in grubby carnival-worker mode, standing at the gate holding out his hand.
In front of him, Hallie, back in her young body, reaches to hand him a ticket.
“Noooo!” I scream and rush for them. She cannot get on that roller coaster! Before the piece of paper leaves Hallie’s fingers, I snatch it away. “This is not a new ending. You will not die in a car accident on my watch!”
Eli looks at me patiently. “You hold the ticket now. Is this how you want the end to play?”
I hesitate. So many new things to experience out there. I can visit my granddaughter on my phone now. I could go to the movies with Gord.
Hallie jumps in. “I’m not going back there without her.”
I sigh. I would miss Ron, maybe even Sheryl. But surely, it’s my time. “Hallie, I’m eighty-two years old. If there’s one ticket, I’m the one who should use it.”
“But I’m the one who forgot to take your heart medication.”
“The day we met for the first time, I was supposed to die of a heart attack. Remember?”
“But we have to fight Saji Motors together.” Hallie sniffs and wipes at her eyes.
“Don’t you dare cry for me. Do you hear me?” I grip Hallie’s shoulders. “You gave me three extra days in a wonderful young body. Two boys kissed me. Two!”
“Always with the boys,” Eli complains. “That w
asn’t supposed to be the goal, remember?”
Hallie snorts through the tears now.
I blink hard so I don’t cry, too. I’m going to miss this adoptive granddaughter I’ve gotten to know inside out. “You don’t need me to fight Saji. The whole thing must be recorded on your El-Q. And my son, Ron, will never let them get away with this.” An awful thought hits me then. I look around. “Please tell me he is all right?” I don’t see him anywhere near the roller coaster. “Are the others okay?”
Eli shrugs his shoulders. “This is not their voyage.”
An elusive answer. Ron never liked rides, not even as a young boy. I look back toward the food stands. Ron would be wanting cotton candy. I see people standing in lines, some familiar, some not. Living this long, I’ve already lost so many friends and relatives. But he’s not there amongst them. I feel a whoosh of relief. I scan the carousel and see some of my old friends but not Margret or Linda, and they like that kind of ride.
“Just Hallie and I died? And she’s really only here because I removed her seatbelt.”
“Details, details!” Eli throws up his hands. “Time to get on the roller coaster. Both of you! It’s starting up in moments.”
“No.” I fling the ticket to the ground. “Neither of us is riding today.”
“What?” Eli pulls his head back like a rooster ready to peck. “I thought you wanted to die. You never expected to grow this old, remember? You hate your aching joints, your wrinkly skin, your failing memory, your lack of energy, on and on … complaints, complaints.”
“Doesn’t everyone complain?”
“Oh yes. ‘Look at my fat thighs.’ ‘Why does my hair have to go frizzy?’ ‘I have a zit in the middle of my forehead.’ So tiresome, so boring.”
“Look who’s complaining now!” I tell him.
Eli rolls his eyes.
“I’ll never say another bad thing about my body,” Hallie says. “It’s perfect.”
I fold my arms. “I’m not making any promises.”
“Susan!” Hallie protests.
“I mean, I am grateful, Eli. People die of cancer when they’re very young. I’ve raised my children. I could go now …” I hesitate. “If one person must ride, it definitely should be me.”
“So what contribution will either of you make that justifies keeping you on earth?” Eli asks.
“I definitely want to be on the witness stand against Saji Motors. That Applegirl should never have died,” I answer.
“Me, too,” Hallie says.
“We already established that Ron would take this case on and probably doesn’t need either of you to testify.”
“I want to have more time with my children and grandchildren,” I admit.
“I can help seniors. Margret and Susan and any other older person who doesn’t know how to use an iPad or e-reader. They can talk to their kids all over the world,” Hallie answers.
Eli tilts his head, raises his eyebrows. “I do so love technology.”
“Well, that’s not all,” Hallie continues. “I want to be a lawyer and fight companies that don’t care about safety or the environment. The Saji thing would only be a start.”
“Okay, somewhat better than your usual boy obsession.” Eli turns.
“Sue me for being interested in Chael, really,” Hallie says sarcastically. “It was never so much him or any boy as much as, I dunno …” She flutters her hand in front of her face. “Feeling all jittery and breathless and having my heart race.”
“Feeling in love,” I fill in for her.
“Yes. Not the Mom and Dad kind but, you know, the love where someone, maybe just for a short while, chooses you over everybody else. Loans you his jacket and holds your hand.”
“The love of my family would be enough for me,” I say. “But I will say I enjoyed the pursuit of those young men. Their kisses. Hallie should have the chance to experience that someday.”
“Okay, I can understand.” Eli nods thoughtfully at Hallie, then turns to me. “What if you have to go into long-term care?”
“There’s no question. I do have to move into a retirement residence. I don’t want to be alone when I have a heart attack. I need help.”
“What if you’re different now? Much worse.”
The question makes me stop and think for a moment. I look up at the bright blue sky without a single cloud in it. I look around and see people on the carousel or wild tea-cup ride. Dead people? I wonder. Waiting to move on to who knows what? “If I’m worse, then certainly, long-term care. Someone else can make my meals.”
“You may need a wheelchair.”
Worse and worse. I shut my eyes tightly. Maybe I should let it all go.
“Come back with me, please!”
My eyelids flip open again to see Hallie clasping her hands together, almost in prayer. She’s so young, so tender-hearted. I sigh. I want to live on awhile longer for this granddaughter especially, so she doesn’t have to experience my death right now. “Can it be one of those motorized scooters instead? I’ll stick a red flag on it and drive it down the middle of the road.”
Eli smiles. “I’ll see what I can arrange.”
CHAPTER 31
Hallie
“HALLIE, HALLIE!” MARGRET’S VOICE calls. Where is she calling from? Is it me she really wants? Am I in my own body? Something hard digs into my back, and as I reach around to feel what it is — a door handle — my eyes open and I see my own true skin again. Mmm. A deep sigh of relief. Then I lift myself up, bumping into somebody’s legs. Linda’s. She hangs in front of me unconscious, still strapped in her seat, mid-bench.
I blink, to make the setting in front of me clearer. I turn my head. The world seems so upside down. My mind tries to reason with what I’m seeing. Finally, the shapes and details become more solid.
The Hurricane is resting on its passenger side. Above us, as if in a spaceship with no gravity, Margret struggles with her seatbelt. “We might catch on fire. We have to get everyone out of here. Quickly.”
“How?” I look toward the front and see Ron and Susan are both unconscious. Or worse. There’s only me and one frail senior to lift them all out. I stand up now, tippy-toe to reach the door, the one in the air. The one at Margret’s side. My fingers barely touch. “I can’t slide the door open from this distance.”
“Hmm. Let me try.” She pushes the unlock button, then heaves the sliding door to one side. None of this part of the Hurricane seems to be damaged.
“Now how do I get up?” I ask, looking around for things to climb on.
“Scootch over a bit,” she tells me.
I squeeze tightly against the front seat as Margret’s seat buckle gives.
She rolls down to the floor beside me, half on top of me. “Uh!” Then she slowly straightens. “Here!” she cups her hands. “Step up and I’ll give you a boost.”
I take a deep breath and stand on her bony interlocked fingers.
“Okay, this works.”
“Now climb out,” Margret tells me.
“Really? Then what? You gonna lift Linda to me?”
“Maybe I won’t have to. Start with Ron. Try to wake him up.”
I spring up from her cupped hands and climb toward the driver’s side of the car, grabbing the handle. I pull the door open but gravity works against me, the door wants to shut again. Quickly, I wedge myself so it can’t. The door crashes against my back. Uh! I lean over and call softly near his ear, “Ron, Ron! Wake up. I need your help.” If he can’t move on his own, I don’t see how Margret and I can lift him.
He moans, but when his eyes open, I warn him, “I’m going to release your seatbelt. Grab hold of my shoulder and hoist yourself out.” He doesn’t answer. “Can you do that?” I repeat.
He takes a few moments and groans as his left arm drops. “I think my wrist is broken.” With only his right hand gripping my shoulder, I reach my arms around him and pull. His fingers dig in but he’s a dead weight. I can’t budge him.
“Can you push off of y
our feet?”
“Uhh.” He groans again. “They don’t work!” Instead, he digs his elbows into the car door to move himself along while I lean back. Bit by bit, he lifts out.
Finally, when we’re at the edge of the SUV, I jump down and try to catch him as he tumbles over the side. It’s all I can do. His legs won’t hold him.
“We need to get you farther away from the car. Can you roll yourself?” I ask him.
Ron doesn’t answer — can’t; he’s passed out. I reach under his armpits and try to drag him. I can’t budge him.
“Linda’s next!” Margret calls and I know I have to leave him.
Stepping onto a tire, I reach to grip a pipe and hoist myself back up. The car wobbles. Will it fall over on top of me? I wait for a moment.
No?
Good.
By the time I make it back to the door, Linda has already come to and Margret is struggling to boost her up. Who would have thought Margret could be so strong? I grab Linda the same way I did Ron. But she’s lighter, maybe less hurt, definitely way easier. Gently, gently we make it to the cliff of the car. I jump to the ground and she follows, with me cushioning her as best I can. She stumbles alongside of me and I set her down near Ron.
Now there’s only Margret and Susan. Smoke rises from the engine as I climb more quickly back up the side of the SUV.
Okay, this time it definitely teeters. Easy, I tell myself. “Ready!” I call to Margret. “Get Susan up here.”
“I keep calling her. She won’t wake up,” Margret says. Kneeling on the door and bent sideways over her, Margret puts two fingers to Susan’s neck. After a moment, she shakes her head … no, nothing, answering a question no one has dared to ask. She pulls back and covers her own face with a hand.
“She’s not dead!”
Margret starts to cry.
“She can’t be!” I jump down through the door. Landing, I collide with her. “Come on.” I touch her shoulder. “Let’s get you out.”
She cries harder. But I lace my fingers and bend down. “You have to go now! Hurry!” Can a person this age climb out and get to the ground by herself? I frown as I look at her crumpled face. She has to try. “Come on!”
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