“To say the least,” she answers, laughing out loud. “Like I said, Louise Patterson, you are one of his most unique creations!”
“I will take that as a compliment,” I say as I walk to the elevator and prepare to go back down. I step inside when the doors open and hit the button for the first floor. As the doors begin to close, Gabby turns and reaches out so that her arm stops them from closing completely.
“I almost forgot,” she says. “Hank just came through intake. You may want to go say hello to him.” Then she allows the doors to close and return me to the street.
CHAPTER THREE
As I walk back to the Company, I ponder Hank’s arrival. Will he be glad to see me? Will he understand why he is there? Will whoever takes care of his welcoming tell him that Linda is dead too? And why she isn’t with him?
Hank and I were never really close in life. We liked each other well enough, but it was a kind of a forced relationship. Love me, love my dog kind of thing. Each of us would consider the other the “dog” in that scenario. I thought that since I was first, I was more important. He believed that because he was her chosen life partner that superseded our friendship. In reality, neither one of us was correct. Linda’s heart had plenty of room for both of us, and she was great at making time for me after her wedding. However, it didn’t take me long before I began to understand that Hank had a part of her life that I was not invited to ever be privy to experience. The only consolation I had was that I was the one she used to bitch about him to. Hank and I probably knew more about each other than either of us were comfortable with. Linda told him about all my misadventures, and I got to hear about every marital squabble and every gory detail of their private life.
It suddenly occurs to me that seeing me after all this time may just be a sentimental reminder of the early years of his marriage. To the woman who had just poisoned him to death. I start to feel more and more nervous as I approach the WF&PI building. I vacillate between hoping that he knows about Linda already and wishing that his welcomer may have chosen to omit a few details surrounding their demise.
When I arrive at the Company I move swiftly to the main office, where all assignments show up on a board. All I have to do is speak my name and my designated duties will appear for the day. For the rest of today my schedule is suddenly very blank. Due to, I assume, my sudden reclassification from the Big Guy. So, knowing I can relax and not have to worry that I may be leaving someone in the lurch, I am now free to attend Hank’s welcoming party as a guest with a clear conscience. I see my father and mother walking down the hall with another familiar looking couple. “Hey, guys! Wait up!” I yell and sprint to catch up with them. My mom looks gorgeous, as usual with surprisingly thick brown hair. She didn’t change it mentally when she came here either. She died with that head of hair. Maybe it was a tad more gray, but not overwhelmingly more. What a looker my mom is! My father’s good humor is as evident in the afterlife as it was among the living. His smile gets even wider when I approach.
“Louise! What a surprise to see you out here! I thought you would have already been inside. We are running just a tad late,” my mom says. She may be a heavenly being, but she’s still the master of the backdoor zinger.
“Me too. I had a meeting with Deedy this morning,” I say back smugly. Yes, I know it is terrible to use having a somewhat personal relationship with the boss as a leg up in a discussion with your mother, but what can I say? I didn’t get here by the scenic route for being a fabulous person all the time.
“That’s fine, sweetheart!” my father chimes in with his booming voice. “What was the meeting about? Are they changing your assignment?” He looks concerned. Dad has always been as interested in my afterlife career as me.
“We’ll talk later,” I say breezily and give him a quick kiss on the cheek. “Right now, as Mom just pointed out, we are late for a party!” I now look at the couple in expectation. I assume someone is going to introduce me.
My mom steps forward to the task. “Louise, you remember Mr. and Mrs. Miller? Hank’s parents?” I look at them and feel heat in my face. Mr. Miller not only looks shocked to see me on this side of the pearly gates, he looks as if he may have a heart attack and die for the second time. Mrs. Miller tries to force a small smile at me, but her dislike is obvious as well.
“So…” I say, embarrassed. “I guess there is no chance that you have forgotten me.”
The only time I ever met the Millers when we were all breathing was at Linda’s wedding. The aforementioned rehearsal dinner where I got inebriated and spoken my mind, and the next day where I showed up in a different dress than planned. The dress I was supposed to wear was designed to make me streamlined and color coordinated with the flowers and sophisticated decor. The dress I showed up in was designed to make me look like a deranged circus clown on shore leave. There was a method to my madness, of course...but I’m sure the Millers were never made aware. Thus, my cemented role as the bad influence, riff-raff of a best pal to their new daughter-in-law was following me beyond the grave.
“I’m sure it’s all fine, dear. Please do join us. It really is a glorious occasion!” says Mrs. Miller, shaking off any bad feelings. Not that hearing that my best friend’s stupid last act that has sent her to the depths of despair and anguish being described as glorious doesn’t make the hairs on the back of my neck stand up and twist a bit, but I get what she is saying. Today is glorious for her, and Mr. Miller, and everyone else who loves Hank and is so relieved that he is finally here. That is the best thing about Heaven. There really is very little consideration about how one dies, how young or old they are, etc. The things that occupy our minds as living creatures, and as survivors to those who have gone before just doesn’t even ping on the meter here. Hank is home, and that is cause for celebration. So, with that in mind, I take Mrs. Miller’s arm and escort her into her son’s welcoming.
“That’s right,” I say with a big smile. “We are all in this together now!”
Hank is in the center of the room, looking so much older than he did the last time I was face to face with him, but seeming much more alert and spry than he seemed at the end of his days. He is laughing at something a younger looking man just said to him. He turns and says “I don’t remember you being such a card, Grandpa!” Then he laughs again. “Of course, I lost you when I was three, right?” That is the other thing about Heaven. You can’t tell who is what age or how they may be related. The young ingénue may in fact be the great aunt of the old woman she is sitting next to. I laugh out loud as I think, for probably the millionth time in the last twenty years, I love being here! And I feel a small twinge in the center of my belly as I realize I just volunteered to not be here most of the time for the foreseeable future.
When Hank spots his mom and dad his emotions get the better of him. I step back and stand next to my own father. “How long has it been since he has seen them?” I ask Dad.
“For his dad about forty years. His mom went a few years after that, I think,” he replies. “Good, long lives, both of them.” He looks down at me and there is a touch of sadness behind his smile. I don’t know if that is a memory he is reliving about my death, or the fact that he had to wait an additional thirty years before we could have this kind of reunion due to my stint down under, or finally perhaps he is thinking of Linda too. I reach over and squeeze him tight. We are in mid-embrace when, if you will pardon the expression, all hell breaks loose.
“Louise? Louise Patterson? Is that you?” Hank says as he rushes at me like a running back on a football field. I take a step back, not sure what to expect.
“Hello, Hank,” I say cautiously. “It’s so nice to—” That is all I can blurt out before he reaches me and wraps his meaty arms around me, squeezing my breath completely from my body.
“Louise, I can’t believe I’m looking at you again. It’s so great to see you here.” He lifts me up like a ragdoll and starts spinning me around, laughing like we are teenagers.
“Hank, my stomach
may be imaginary, but I swear I am going to puke if you don’t cut it out!” I scream through my own laughter.
“Sorry, Lou,” Hank replies, breathless now as he puts me down. “I just keep forgetting that we are still old folks. I feel so young.” Then he stops and really looks at me. “But look at you. You are still young. And pretty as a picture!” he says with true admiration.
I don’t know whether to be uncomfortable or flattered. “I don’t remember you being such a charmer, back when I was alive.” My surprise came through my newly high pitched voice.
“Well,” he started, teasing me. “Way back then you scared the shit out of me!” A look of slight panic entered his eyes, and I start to laugh out loud.
“Don’t worry, cussing doesn’t disqualify you. But it will cost you a quarter. Really. I wish I was kidding, but I can show you my personal bank statements that will prove to you exactly how much it can add up to,” I say.
Now it is his turn to laugh. “Why doesn’t that shock me? Oh yeah, because I know you.”
“So, why did I seem scary to you?” I question.
“Let’s see, you were Linda’s trash-talking, anti-establishment, marriage-hating best friend.”
Once again, my face starts to flush with embarrassment. “I guess I have owed you an apology for a very long time.”
“Not at all. You are partially responsible for creating the person I spent most of my life with. For that, you don’t owe me anything at all,” he answered, his blush rising to meet mine.
Fuck me running. So he doesn’t know, or doesn’t remember. Will someone else tell him while he is at his welcoming party? Should I hope someone does, or would it be better coming from me? These questions are running through my head as Hank leans close to my ear.
“But, Lou, I have some questions that I am not really comfortable asking anyone else.” He looks around quickly, like he is about to say something terribly secret or perhaps off-color. “I know these people are family, but they all feel strange to me.” He looks at me hopefully.
“I’ll be happy to help in any way,” I say. “I’m taking a new assignment tomorrow, so I won’t be available during the day. If you don’t mind waiting until the evening, we can make plans to get together?”
“That is awesome of you, Lou,” he says with gratitude. “I would not only be willing to wait, I will look forward to it.” Hank sounds so pleased, like he was my best friend, not married and eventually killed by her.
“Me too,” I say warmly. “But for now, enjoy your party and spend some time with people you haven’t seen in a while.” I stand and open my arms to embrace him. “You are going to be very happy here,” I whisper in his ear.
“Tomorrow night,” he says through eyes that are starting to fill. “Don’t forget!”
“No worries. I will be here,” I say, then suddenly remembering where I will be coming from, I add, “And I could quite possibly have bells on!” He does not get my half-joke, but I make a promise to myself that I’ll explain tomorrow night.
I start to move through the room, waving cordially to folks I do not know and stopping to say hi to those that I do. I stop and give my mom a hug and a kiss. I am not surprised when my dad insists on walking me out. We make our escape quietly and walk arm-in-arm toward my condo. It is just a few blocks and the weather, as usual, is perfect. We walk by my old place of employment IP&FW—Internet Porn and Fetish Web—the only internet service available in Hell. I worked in their call center when I first arrived.
You see, Heaven and Hell exist within the same space. We actually sometimes walk the same streets, live in adjoining neighborhoods, everything. The difference is the residents. While the majority of Hellions live on the opposite side of the city, and a great deal of Heaven’s occupants live…well…up, we basically are all the same. With the help of Deedy’s magic, residents of Hell can’t see anything that would be considered Heaven-centric. The heat that makes Hell such a famous shit hole is manufactured by the guilt and remorse that people who feel they belong there walk around carrying with them. Isn’t that a kick in the teeth? Most people go to Hell because they feel that they deserve it.
And the ones that were so bad in life that there was no choice but eternal damnation? They have a very special punishment. With all its torments, Hell would be a playground to mass murderers, pedophiles, dictators, and tyrants. They come here not only under tortuous circumstances, but also as children. The most frightening thing about Hell is the kid population. I happen to have first-hand knowledge of that particular fact. One of my temp jobs was at a daycare center in Hell.
However, it was my work at IP&FW that truly gave me insight into the general population. Hell is the one place in the entire universe that everyone without exception needs a Xanax, and it’s the one place where you cannot find one. No peace, no rest, no “tomorrow is a better day.” Not until you have learned whatever lessons your soul desires and Deedy finds you and brings you home. And since no one there knows or expects that to happen, the despair can be suffocating.
My dad was the only member of my immediate family that was there to greet me when I got to Heaven. I didn’t have a welcoming party, because I didn’t come straight there. But having him standing with open arms was so special. Some people thought I was a daddy’s girl in life, but that doesn’t hold a candle to what I am in the afterlife.
I remember in second grade, this classmate of mine, a precocious little girl called Kimmy with huge brown eyes that apparently made every adult in the room turn into a mass of goo. Kimmy was sitting next to me at lunch, for some strange reason. We weren’t exactly friends, but I guess at that age, we weren’t self-aware enough to consider each other enemies. Anyway, I looked up from my peanut butter and jelly to realize that my father was walking across the cafeteria with my homework in his hand. I had forgotten it that morning on the counter, and I was already prepared for the wrath of Mrs. Newman, but now my dad was coming to save me. I remember how shocked I felt when I saw him standing among my classmates and teachers. I guess when you are eight years old, compartmentalization of your life comes naturally. It was very strange for me to see someone from my home, my oasis from the chaos, standing among the rest of the captives in my daytime cage. Yes, I felt that strongly about the educational institution even at that tender age. After Daddy had handed me the precious papers that were basically a get out of jail free card to me, he leaned over and gave me a quick kiss, then turned and left. Without the papers in my hand I could have believed that I had imagined the entire experience. That is, until Kimmy turned to me with those big brown eyes and said, “Your dad is kinda funny looking, isn’t he?” An innocent comment from a child’s perspective would be the first thought of any reasonable adult. My father himself, if he had heard it would have laughed out loud. However, for a rival child, those words were a declaration of war. The look of shock and horror were the last expression those adorable eyes were able to make for the remainder of the week. Particularly the left one, which was swollen shut after I pounded it with my tiny fists of fury. I felt like Chuck Norris. Chuck Norris sitting in the principal’s office, but it was pretty intoxicating nevertheless. Now, take that level of devotion and times it by ten and that is where I am today.
Dad and I are laughing at that shared memory as we enter my apartment building.
The access point for each condo is located in a common hallway shared by all condos in that building. Much like Hell, I’m not bothered by my neighbors, but unlike Hell we all get along. I have always believed my sanctuary to be unique, even though there are at least twelve units in this building. Upon entering my tiny yet elegant space, I am immediately put at rest with its interior painted in the softest of pale blues and the deep plush wall to wall carpet. We enter into the living room where I am greeted by the only wall within its protective boundaries. It is L-shaped, made of mortar and stone providing a warmth like no simple wall I have ever seen. Within its confines there is a glass fireplace that allows viewing from the oversized sofa st
rategically placed in front of it or the overstuffed grandmother’s bed that I slumber so peacefully in directly on the other side where my bedroom is located. And this bedroom has ample walk-in closet space graciously giving me several choices of fabulous outfits each day. The dining area houses simply a large tabled booth, which gives it a sense of style as well as some retro funkiness that always makes me feel super cool. Lastly, the tiny white kitchen with its pristine tiled countertops and small appliances is housed by a far wall made completely of glass. Standing in the kitchen I look out to the most breathtaking view. We aren’t up terribly high, but we are high enough that Hellions would be blinded before they ever caught a glimpse of me through the wall. But when I look through it, it looks as if my apartment sits on the top of a rainbow. This rainbow was not preceded by a storm, it never disappears, its colors never fade. It stands eternal, just like Deedy’s promise that there is room for everyone here, and everyone is coming home someday. I offer my father a glass of water; pure, delicious, and ice cold straight from the tap. He accepts and sits on the couch.
“Can I get you something else? Something to eat?” I ask casually.
“How about information. What is up, Lou?” His face is suddenly filled with that fatherly concern again.
I laugh out loud. “What are you worried about, Dad?”
“What I have always worried about when it comes to you.” He downs his glass of water in one long, breathless draw. “That your mouth is writing checks that your ass can’t cash. And the fact that I noticed Linda was not with Hank when he arrived today, I am thinking that check was drawn from the National Bank of Hell.”
“Okay, yes…my new assignment is back there,” I start slowly. “But it isn’t like I’m being sent back to eternal damnation. This time I will be there as an employee.”
Dad stares at the bottom of his empty glass. “Still, it feels a little like a demotion, doesn’t it, Louise?”
Remembering Hell Page 3