It's a Wonderful Death

by Sarah J. Schmitt

  I grin. “It’s probably because I’m your favorite grandkid, isn’t it?”

  She just pulls me close again and holds me so tight I can barely breathe. Even though I can’t feel it, I sense the warmth that only a grandmother has. Finally, I pull back and look to her for answers. “Grams, where did Daniel go?”

  “I would suppose he’s back on Earth.”

  Relief washes over me. “He’s alive? That means he didn’t kill himself?”

  Nodding her head, she looks at me with pride. “No. After he took you home, he thought about it. He left your house and headed back to the school. But as he was sitting in his car, he got a text from you. Do you remember what it said?”

  The memories of my old and new lives are still mingling in my brain. “I think so. Didn’t I ask if he wanted to be my friend?”

  “Almost. I think it was more like, ‘Since I probably don’t have any friends left, do you want the job? I’m high maintenance and kind of a pain, but if you’re interested, press one. If you aren’t, I understand.’ Does that sound right?”

  And even though I’m not completely sure who the new me is, I know that’s exactly what I would say. Sorting through the different timelines is starting to give me a headache so I ask, “Did he answer?”

  She looks at me with twinkling eyes. “He did.”

  I wait for her to finish. When she doesn’t I prompt her, “And?”

  “He wrote one.”

  “What did he do after he sent the text?”

  She picks up my hand, patting it absently. “He started the car, drove home, and the next morning was waiting in your driveway to take you to school.”

  “Wow,” I say. “That’s pretty cool.”

  “That’s one way to put it. The two of you became very close.”

  “Did we date? Because when he was Trevor, he was freaking hot, and if he turns out to look anything like that, I could see it happening.”

  She shakes her head, but I see a glint of amusement sneaking into her eyes. “It’s amazing what having good friends can do to a person. By the time your senior year comes around, he will look like that, but you will never date.”

  I groan. “What? Why not?”

  “His heart will be won by someone else,” she says with finality.

  Figures. I hope it’s not Felicity. “Since Trevor is alive and kicking, then, did Death Himself send you here to meet me?”

  “Oh, I wouldn’t say that exactly. When I heard my granddaughter was the one causing a fuss up in the Afterlife, I came to find you.”

  “Grams,” I say, giving her a hard look, “are you AWOL from Heaven?”

  Without missing a beat she says, “Who says I went to Heaven? I was quite a hell-raiser, in my day, I’ll have you know.”

  I study her carefully. “Nope. I’m not buying it. You probably had a VIP ticket waiting for you when you arrived.”

  She laughs again, the sound wrapping me in a cocoon of happiness. I lean back against her, wishing I was small enough to climb onto her lap just so I can be a little closer to her. “Hey, Grams,” I say, still feeling the tingle of joy on my skin. “I was wondering something.”

  “Hmm,” she murmurs, absently stroking my hair.

  “Were you proud of me?”

  I expect her to laugh but she doesn’t. Instead, her hand freezes in place. “Well …” she starts, but her words trickle off.

  The warm air is chilly now. I sit up straight, a strand of my hair catching on her fingers. “Grams?” I whisper. Her hesitation cuts me like a knife.

  She snaps out of her thoughts and stands up. “Here’s the thing about the Afterlife. Once you cross over, you can’t lie. Not even white lies.”

  “So you weren’t proud of me,” I deduce.

  “The truth is never simple,” she begins. “I’m proud of the woman you are becoming now, but the girl you were before your death made it harder to stand up and cheer for you.”

  I don’t need a pulse to know that my heart is breaking—no, crumbling. Grams, my rock, the one person I thought would never turn on me is now telling me she doesn’t like me. Or didn’t like me, and all I can say is, “Oh.” What else is there?

  She sits back next to me and takes both of my hands in hers. I try to pull them away but she’s stronger than I remember. “I know it sounds bad, and if I could lie, I might be tempted. But you have to realize, the woman you were turning into was selfish and mean. I know it’s not all your fault, but sweetheart, it’s true. I love you more than anything. I always have. But you asked the question and I can’t lie.”

  “You already said that,” I say flatly.

  She lifts my chin, forcing me to look at her. “Whether you know it or not, you’ve made some pretty big changes in your life. First, you stood up to a bully who was bigger than you. By doing that, you started to develop the courage to stand up to your friends, which is much harder. I can’t begin to tell you how much those two choices have changed you.”

  “So now that I’m someone different, you love me more?” I ask, turning my back to her.

  But Grams won’t let me get away that easy. She spins me around, refusing to let me ignore her. “You listen to me, young lady. Do not for one moment think that I didn’t love you. I always have and I always will. That has never changed. But that was not what you asked. You asked if I was proud of you. Not then. But the girl you are, the woman you are on your way to becoming, that is who you were meant to be. Not some carbon copy of her friends. And definitely not someone who makes herself feel better by making others feel worse. You are meant to be an original, like you are now.”

  I sniff back the tears. “Why didn’t you say something? I would have changed if you had called me out. I always wanted you to be proud of me.”

  She pulls herself up and I hear her knees creak. “Curse of the form I chose to see you in,” she says with a wry laugh. “The old ailments come with the look. But don’t worry. It just sounds bad. I don’t feel a thing.”

  My smile is weak, but at least I can manage one. “I didn’t mean to be a disappointment,” I say, looking up at her, pleading with my eyes for forgiveness. “I guess I just got so caught up with being popular. I think, somehow, I lost myself.”

  “That’s the wonderful thing about losing something. You can always find it again if you look hard enough.”

  What is it about Grams’s wisdom? It’s brutal and honest, all the while filling me with hope.

  “A moment ago you asked why I didn’t say something to you,” she says. “Maybe I should have. I hoped you would find your way on your own because you knew it was the right thing to do, not because you wanted to make me happy.”

  I know exactly what she’s saying. And she’s right. I would have done anything she told me to do. “You know,” I say, forcing my smile, “I am the original. Everyone else was the copy.”

  “So true,” she says, tapping me lightly on the cheek.

  A comfortable silence falls between us, but I know it can’t last forever. “I still have one more ghost from my past to deal with, don’t I?”

  She nods. “I’m not sure where she is, though. It’s not like her to be late.”

  “You know her?” I say in surprise.

  Grams grins. “Oh sure. Everybody knows everyone around here. There are no strangers in Heaven.”

  “So you did go to Heaven,” I tease. “Is Grandpa there, too?”

  Her smile grows wide and it looks like the wrinkles on her aged face fade away. “If he wasn’t, do you think I would be?” The air around us begins to turn a stunning shade of yellow. The soft hues cast a glow over us like the early rays of sunrise. “Looks like she’s here,” Grams adds, turning to leave. I reach out and hold on to her arm.

  “Wait. Don’t go yet. I’m not sure I can do this.”

  She turns back and rushes to my side, kneeling before me. “My dear, you have no idea how capable you are. You can do this.” In her eyes I see another look of pride and I realize that, before today, it’s been a
long time since I’ve seen that look directed at me.

  I feel the tears falling again and I reach up to touch her cheek. “I love you.”

  Now there is sadness in her eyes. “I love you, too, Rowena Joy. But this test will end soon and with any luck, the Tribunal will see fit to send you back to finish your journey on Earth.” She looks off in the distance. “I can’t stay any longer. They’ll come looking for me soon.” She lovingly removes my hand, placing it gently in my lap. “We will see each other when the time is right, and while it will not be soon enough, I will always love you. Remember that.”

  Tears are falling even faster now and I close my eyes to hold them back. When I open them, Grams is gone and standing in her place is a girl about my age. I know her. Not in a you-look-familiar kind of way. I actually know her. In fact, I saw her a few days before my ill-fated trip to see the gypsy. The last time I saw her was the day she died.

  Chapter 19

  “Madeline?” I ask hesitantly. “Is that you?”

  I expect her to rip off my head for what my friends and I did, but instead she smiles and rushes up to me. “RJ, I’m so happy to see you!” she cries and wraps her arms, not her hands, around my neck. Shock paralyzes me. “How are you?” she squeals. “I couldn’t believe it when Death Himself told me you were here. At first I was so upset you were dead, but when he told me about the Tribunal, I jumped at the chance to help out. I think he was a little surprised when I told him I didn’t want any favors to do it.” She leans closer. “Rumor has it Daniel drove a hard bargain, but I’m glad he finally agreed.” She winks at me and continues talking a mile a minute. I’m still trying to get over the fact she isn’t punching me in the face.

  When I can finally put words together I ask, “You’re not mad at me?”

  Confusion clouds her face. “Why would I be mad?”

  “Well, um, you know, because of the party,” I stumble, still bracing for an attack.

  But she just laughs. “I guess your memories are still catching up with you.”

  I shrug. “I guess.” Either Madeline is a great actress or she’s really not mad. Though I’m still cautious, I feel the tension in my body easing.

  “Then let me fill you in. Follow me. I hate this cloudy open air business they have around here.” She leads the way to a door, opening it for me to walk through. I barely cross the threshold when I stop short. In front of me is a coffee shop. I mean, an honest to goodness, barista-wearing-green-smocks-and-smiling-at-us-as-we-walk-in kind of coffee shop. I can even smell the fresh ground coffee lingering in the air.

  I look at Madeline in surprise. “You’ve got to be kidding me. There’s coffee in the Afterlife?”

  She giggles. “Only the fair trade variety. I thought you would like it. And it’s not just in the Afterlife.” She nods toward a door on the far end of the room.

  There’s a sign that reads, MEMBERS ONLY.

  “Who are the members?” I ask, taking in the scene of people sipping lattes and talking.

  “Souls who have crossed into Heaven.”

  Now I’m looking at her. “You’re kidding?”

  She shakes her head. “It’s a new perk,” she comments, leading the way to the counter.

  As tempting as a caramel macchiato sounds, I have to ask, “Don’t I still have that whole fix-my-past thing to deal with?”

  She nods. “Yep, but what is it you say? There’s always time for coffee?”

  I do say that. “So, we just order?”

  She rolls her brown eyes and links her arm with mine. “It’s not rocket science. Everything is pretty much the same as on Earth.” She gives the barista a bright smile and rattles off her drink of choice before turning to me. “What do you want?”

  I hesitate for a moment before ordering my drink and then follow her to a pair of oversized brown leather chairs. “Don’t we need to pick up our drinks?” I ask. I know it sounds lame, but seriously, this chick should hate my guts and the fact that she’s hugging me and wanting a little girl time is freaking me out.

  “Shayna will bring them.”

  Hearing her name, one of the baristas looks up and gives a slight wave. “Don’t tell me the souls behind the counter are part of a work release program from Hell? Why would someone want to spend eternity making coffee drinks for people when they could float on a cloud or something?”

  She looks thoughtful. “I suppose if you were a philosopher contemplating stuff that would be one way to spend your time, but it doesn’t sound like fun to me. I would rather be interacting with people instead of being alone, wouldn’t you?”

  “Yeah, I guess. Wait, so everyone works up here? What about resting in peace?”

  She’s trying not to laugh at me. I can see it. Except, she’s not really laughing at me. For the first time, I consider the idea we might be friends. The details are still a little fuzzy, but I don’t think Madeline is pretending.

  “No one has to do anything,” she says, her smile as bright as ever. “After all, we’ve already served our time on Earth, doing what we have to do. Once we get here, how we spend our time is up to us. We get to do the things that we’re passionate about.”

  Shayna appears at that moment with our drinks. I glance down at the foam and find my initials floating on top. “Let me see if I understand this,” I say, turning to Shayna. “What did you do when you were alive?”

  “I was a doctor,” she says matter-of-factly.

  “Okay,” I say slowly. “Now you brew coffee?”

  Her smile is blinding, even brighter than Madeline’s, and I wonder if they hand out whitening strips to people when they arrive. “When I was in med school, I studied in a place like this,” she says, waving her arm around the room. “The whole time I was plowing through my reading, all I could think was how awesome it must be to work as a barista. The people who worked at the café always seemed like they were part of a family. Of course, when I mentioned the idea to my dad, he went ballistic. I was expected to follow in the family business. And that’s what I did.”

  “What do you think he would say now?”

  Her eyes flit upward for a second, the smile still beaming. “He’s one of my best customers.” She laughs all the way back to the counter.

  “She’s young,” I notice. “Wonder how far along she was when she died?”

  “Forty-five, I think. It was a heart attack brought on by stress,” Madeline answers casually.

  I almost spit out my drink. “She does not look like she’s in her forties,” I blurt out before slapping my hand over my mouth.

  But Madeline doesn’t seem to notice. “We decide what age we present and under what conditions.”

  “Like your hair?” I ask. “When did it ever look like that?”

  She reaches up to smooth the perfectly straight strands. “When I got my first wig,” she answers. “You helped me pick it out.”

  I know it’s taking a long time for all the new memories to integrate with my consciousness or whatever, but I’m pretty sure helping a girl with cancer pick out a wig would deserve instant recall. It doesn’t and I’m drawing a blank. “Um, I don’t remember doing that.”

  “You will,” she says before taking a sip of her coffee. “This is the first time anyone has ever gone back to repeat their past. Even Death Himself isn’t sure how long it will take him to make all the arrangements for your return. In the meantime, he asked me to entertain you until your memories catch up with you. He said something about you needing a solid understanding of your new reality before starting the last test. But who knows with Death Himself. The guy marches to a different symphony.”

  “So my first babysitter is Saint Peter and my second is Madeline Quinn,” I say under my breath.

  “It’s not babysitting when we’re friends,” she says, looking a little hurt.

  Here’s my chance to get some clarification. “You mentioned that we were friends, but I still don’t know what you’re talking about. I remember that we threw the benefit auction and all, but tha
t doesn’t make us besties or anything. Besides, I …” I take a deep breath before adding, “I stole all that money we raised for your family and threw a party.”

  Why couldn’t that memory disappear?

  Madeline leans forward, her voice soft and low. “Listen to me. You aren’t the person you used to be. You made some mistakes, but you fixed most of them. And you paid a pretty high price, don’t you think?”

  Her words trigger a few of the new memories. I close my eyes, grasping at all the details I can. “I’m still hanging out with Felicity?” I ask in surprise. Her face tells me it’s true.

  She nods solemnly. “You tried to break away, but then, all of a sudden, you were hanging out with her again. When we asked you about it, you wouldn’t explain why. We still hung out, but it was like having a secret friend.”

  That doesn’t sound like me. Or it didn’t. The humming erupts in my head as I try to dig through the jumble of memories. “I can’t remember why, either. But I know I don’t like her.”

  She shrugs. “We thought she was blackmailing you but could never figure out what could be so bad that you would run back to her.”

  That reason leaps to mind without any urging. “My mom,” I start. “My mom was having an affair. Felicity said if I didn’t start hanging out with them again she’d tell everyone, starting with my dad.”

  “But she couldn’t stand you,” Madeline says. “Why would she want you back in her circle?”

  “To do her dirty work while she kept her hands clean.” The veil is lifting and whatever’s been keeping me from recalling these memories finally breaks. Everything comes flooding back in waves. Every memory. Vacations I took. New friendships that started after choosing Trevor—I mean Daniel—over Felicity. It’s an entirely new life.

  I sit my cup down as the room begins to spin. I would gladly take the buzzing in my head to this. “I think I’m going to be sick,” I say and close my eyes. It doesn’t help.

  “You can’t be sick here,” Madeline assures me. “It just feels like it.”