Suddenly the small fat man emerges from his office and bellows, “Mrs. Miller, in my office immediately!”
Linda walks into his office like a prisoner approaching the electric chair. Miss Meany is also in there and pipes in as soon as Linda is safely enclosed behind the shut door. “Mr. Davis, I had no idea what she was doing, or even where she had gone for three hours. I assumed she was hiding in the bathroom or something like a normal person would do on their first day.”
“A normal person would hide in the bathroom for three hours?” Linda questions.
“Regardless,” Mr. Davis says brusquely, “we can’t have people making our workplace nicer. Now that kitchen is an amenity. Do you have any idea how vulnerable that makes us?” Apparently, he’s talking to Linda.
“I’m sorry, I’m new,” Linda says, suddenly feeling like she’s on a lost episode of The Twilight Zone.
“Well, I hope you’ll take this experience as a learning experience. You will not be cleaning any kitchens at your next job.” Mr. Davis seems pretty determined. He reaches in his desk and pulls out a pink slip.
“Mr. Davis, if I can just explain my actions.” Linda is desperate. She can’t lose her job on the first day.
“There is no explanation for such heinous behavior.” Miss Meany chips in with her two cents.
“Excuse me? It’s not like I set fire to the office. Although I’m not sure that wouldn’t have earned me a promotion.” Linda has decided that she hates this woman.
“Obviously you just have not gotten acclimated—” Meany is interrupted by the phone on Mr. Davis desk.
Mr. Davis answers, “Hello, Davis here…oh hey…yes…yes…but you understand that she cleaned the kitchen…no, she actually made the appliances shine…yes…Alright all right…I understand…goodbye.” Mr. Davis hangs up.
“Who was that? And why were you talking about me?” Linda says questioningly.
“What makes you think he was discussing you?” Meany says.
“Because he said ‘she cleaned the kitchen.’ If he had said ‘yes, she still has a giant oak crammed directly up her ass’ I would have assumed he was talking about you.” Linda is getting more acclimated by the minute.
Mr. Davis stands and grabs the pink slip. He rips it in two and tosses it in the nearest trash can. “Mrs. Miller, you may return to your filing.”
“I don’t understand! You were going to fire her!” Miss Meany’s day just went south.
“And now I’m not,” Mr. Davis says. Then he leans over and says much quieter, “Lugner’s orders.”
Miss Meany stiffens and looks over at Linda. “So, get back to work. Those files aren’t going to file themselves.” And she stalks out of the office.
Linda doesn’t know whether to feel relieved or not. It’s a crappy job, but it is a job. Linda guesses that since Mr. Lugner made the call, that means Mr. Davis may be a partner in name only. Lugner seems to be the boss.
“Thank you, Mr. Davis,” she says quietly and goes back to work. After a few more hours, it is as though nothing happened. Linda is back to persona non grata.
Suddenly, as she is throwing another folder in a drawer, she flashes on a needlepoint placard that hung in her own mother’s house her entire childhood. That placard said, in tall, graceful lettering, “Today is the first day of the rest of your life.” The idea of eternity falls on Linda like an anvil. This is now her life, and her life is now forever and ever. Infinite and unending, there is no spaghetti sauce that she can make that would ever get her out of this one.
The only upside to having this miserable job is that absolutely no one is paying attention to her. No one sees her take the rest of the pile and throw it behind a filing cabinet. No one notices when she finds a corner, sits down on the floor, and starts to sob.
CHAPTER NINE
Joe walks by me just as I am finishing up my “Welcome Home” spiel to now no one. “So I guess you caught me talking to myself, again,” I say, embarrassed.
“Who, me? I don't know what you're talking about,” he says, smiling at me devilishly. I start to walk, matching my steps with his, and we begin an easy conversation. Well, at least to him it probably seemed easy.
“So, what did you think of Deedy?” I asked, not at all sounding like a teenage girl passing notes to her bestie during math class. At least I hope I don’t.
“Amazingly cool man,” he says, his respect evident.
“Was he wearing one of his designer suits? Those suits make me drool. Literally. I have to ask Gabby for a tissue before going into his office.” I try to sound casual and funny, like there isn’t a giant boulder now forming in my throat.
“A suit? No. He was dressed very casually actually, khaki pants and a polo shirt. I mean, it was a nice polo shirt and pants. Of course, Kmart probably looks like Gucci to me after very many years here. I asked him where he found his clothes, and I admitted to him, practically a stranger that I was more than a little jealous, but he just seemed to brush it off. He also seems to have a problem touching anybody. He wouldn’t shake my hand. Is that weird? I thought it was kind of weird. Is it weird that I’m gushing this much over another man?” Now he looks at me nervously.
Internally I breathe a sigh of relief at the thought of something familiar regarding Deedy, and I laugh at Joe. “Yep, that’s our Deedy. He can be a strange one at first, but don’t worry, you’ll get used to it. You seem like a great guy,” and then I add quickly, “and a very normal guy.”
“He reminds me of my grandfather. Kindly old man with that Midwestern accent.”
Kindly old man? Midwestern accent? What is Joe talking about? Then I start to smile a bit, because I realize that Deedy is not appearing to Joe the same way he appears to me. “Yeah, a great guy.” I repeat, trying not to let Joe know about the sudden tears welling up in my eyes. I say simply, “That is very, very true.” I have to shake this off or I’m going to melt down again and he will think I’m some kind of nut job.
“So, let’s talk about you!” I say, surprised by my own bright, suddenly happy sounding voice. “Where are we going?”
“Well,” he says, looking at me with just a hint of suspicion. “I’m headed to a greasy spoon diner where I get to start my glorious new career as a short order cook. Keep in mind that I have never even boiled water, I don’t think, and I’m pretty sure I would remember if I had ever made a gourmet meal or even anything other than a fucking sandwich in my life. So this will be quite an adventure.” He’s laughing at himself now.
“Let me just say, it sounds to me like you are absolutely perfect to be a cook in Hell. You did realize after all this time that opposing skill sets are a plus down here, right?”
“Well, then you are absolutely correct. I am going to be an amazing short order cook in Hell,” Joe replies with a slight smile.
When we get to the diner, I shake his hand and wish him luck, then walk on wondering if I should come back later to check on him or go see Hank. I could go check with Gabby, of course, but that means going back to that literally God forsaken office. Well, technically, the office isn’t God forsaken. I am. I decide that before I go back I’ll do a little sightseeing in the old neighborhood. Hell and Heaven occupy the same space, so it is not like I never see any part of my old life in my new one. For instance, I walk past IB&FW every day, but I haven’t seen my apartment in years. Part of that is magic. Each residential side has their own limits to vision that keep the other side blind. I have decided while I can now see all things Hellcentric, I miss my Heaven eyes. I walk down the street and memories flood over me. Even smells and sounds are crowding into my brain, each demanding their own table front and center for the cabaret. When I get to my old building, I back up and look into the window of my old apartment. It seems like nothing has changed. Same gray walls, same colorless furniture barely able to stand alone let alone offer comfort to anyone using it. I close my eyes and imagine myself back there.
I think about the woman who used to sit up there and dream and cry and s
uffer and remember. I think about the girl who had resigned herself to this eternity, not daring to imagine another place, a Heaven in which redemption and forgiveness could be a part of my future. And then I think about Joe, who is at the beginning of his great final destiny. He still has the further realizations about Deedy and Gabby and Paradise. And most importantly, he still gets to find out about himself. That he is Forgiven. That he is Loved.
In a lot of ways this part of our personal eternal journey is the best. Because whether you’re in Heaven or in Hell, it is what it is. There is no growth, or change or epiphanies about life. Life is now over and all that’s left is consequence without action. Human experience is now behind all of us until those of us who believe that we are damned come into this time of transition. Then we get to grow more than adolescence, motherhood, and middle age all put together. I feel another pang of envy for Joe who is just starting, and another ache of homesickness for Deedy’s love.
“Okay,” I say to myself as I get up and walk purposefully back toward the agency, “I’m done being a fucking whiner.” This little roll down memory lane has renewed my sensibilities. I can see now that this is temporary and not about me. This is for Joe and Linda, and I will be home soon. Now I have to hike up my big girl panties and get back to work.
I begin walking more quickly. Now without fear, but instead with a slight amusement.
When I was alive, I rarely even thought about God. Oh, at various times in my past I said desperate prayers to anyone up there who may be listening. Praying for stupid things like ‘Please don’t let me pregnant’ or ‘Please let me pass that math test’ or ‘Please let me stop puking and I swear I’ll never drink again’! And if anyone ever asked me if ‘do you believe in God’, of course my answer would be ‘Yes, definitely.’ But to actually spend time thinking about the fact that there was a God, or building a relationship with my creator? No.
Then for my first twenty odd years in death, I was completely devoid of God’s presence, but I didn’t miss it because I didn’t realize anything was missing. Now after just a very few years of having a real one-on-one with the big guy, I’m rendered inconsolable because I can’t see or feel him. Ain’t that a kick in the teeth!
I walk into the agency, and Gabby looks at me with relief. “Lou! It’s good to see you. I thought for a minute or two that you were avoiding me.”
“I was,” I say with total honesty. I have found that to be the best tactic with her, since she could tell if I was lying anyway. “But don’t take it personally. It was more about not being able to see Deedy than seeing you, if you understand.”
“Of course, how are you making out?”
“Good. Joe is at work, and I was wondering if it is okay if I go hang with Hank for a while. What do you think?”
“I think that is a great idea,” she says warmly. “If Joe should need you, I’ll get in touch.”
I pause before I go and after a brief moment of hesitation I say, “So, I met a man.”
“What man?” she asks. Is that alarm in her eyes?
“I don’t know his name. He wouldn’t tell me. But he offered me a cigarette, and he was dressed impeccably, so I assume he’s a Heaven resident. Right?”
“I guess. You didn’t take it, right?” All of the sudden she’s turned into my big sister.
“Of course not. That really isn’t the point.”
“Sorry, what is?”
“How can I see him?”
“I don’t know. I don’t know who he is, and quite frankly I haven’t been paying that much attention to you, I’ve been more centered on Joe.”
“Of course you have. Sorry,” I say sheepishly. However, I can’t help but notice that her smile seems forced. I think she’s lying to me. See? That is why I need some super powers. So that I will know for a fact when I am getting snowed by an archangel.
“My only advice is to stop paying attention to well-dressed cigarette pushers and keep your eye on your assignment,” Gabby says jokingly.
“I will. I actually like Joe. He seems very nice.” And I mean that. He really is a fabulous guy. “I will be here tomorrow to take Joe to his new assignment. Can I get a hint as to what it is?” I say with conspiracy in my voice.
“Actually, I think you’ll be taking him to the same one. It doesn’t look like he’s getting fired today.”
“What? How does that happen?”
“Every journey is different, Lou. Some people actually do know how to keep a job longer than a few hours.” Now she’s smiling genuinely. Actually, now I’m being mocked by an archangel.
“You know, for a benevolent heavenly being you sure know how to kick a girl when she’s down,” I say. I’m teasing. Kind of.
“I am glad you’re enjoying the assignment. And you seem to be doing well so far. Now go see Hank.” Gabby gives me a big smile and sets me on my way.
On the way to Hank’s I feel a little bewildered. What does Gabby know about the gorgeous stranger who injected himself into my life today? And why wouldn’t she tell me about him, if she does know something?
Oh, and don’t even get me started on Joe keeping his job. I really am trying not to get a case of the ass over that, but seriously? Do I hold some kind of record as the biggest fuck up ever in the history of Second Chance Temp Agency?
Hell has a ton of torments, and there’s a new one every day. But some never change. I feel as confused and alone as I did when I first arrived here.
I’m looking forward to spending time with Hank. Not just to help him understand, but perhaps to soak up a little understanding for myself as well.
Hank was just as happy to see me as he had been last night at his welcoming party.
“Lou! So happy you are here! Come in. What can I get you?”
“You’ve already stocked up on groceries?” I am surprised.
“The Loft came stocked! Even the refrigerator was full. How’s that, me living in a loft. I feel all fancy and big citified.” Hank’s enthusiasm is contagious.
“Did it come with soda?” I say.
“Yep. Crushed ice or cubed? Go figure! Two kinds of ice!” Hank goes to the kitchen, guffawing over his ice bounty. He brings me my soda, and we sit down.
“How was your day? Your new assignment working out?” he asks. “Do you know when I’ll get an assignment? I really feel like I should become a productive member of society. And with all this new found energy I really want to be working. I imagine there is probably some really great jobs up here. Will they give me choices or will they just know what it is I’m supposed to do?”
I start to laugh. “Whoa! Slow down there, Mr. French! There is plenty of time for you to think about what you want to do up here. In fact, there is nothing but time. Or better said, there is no such thing as time. Well, that’s not right either. I dunno. Eternity still gives me a headache. And yes, thank you, my new assignment is great so far. But I’m way more interested in you.” I say, “Tell me how it’s been since you got here? I mean, aside from the burning desire to join the labor force.”
“It has been amazing. Getting to see people that I have missed so much. It really is overwhelming. I just wish Linda was here,” he says with a tinge of sadness.
“That’s what I want to talk to you about,” I say, still processing hearing Linda’s name said out loud. “Do you remember how you died?”
“Of course,” he answers. “That would be a tough thing to forget.”
“So has anybody explained to you how things work? Like how it is decided whether you go to Heaven or Hell?” I ask him nervously.
“No. In fact, no one has mentioned Hell. It’s like they’re afraid to say the word because they think I don’t know. But of course I do. When I got here they showed me the remote viewing screens, so I was aware that she was dead too. And when she wasn’t here, I assume she was lost or she was going to Hell. I was told that she had died at the same time and the same way I did. It really didn’t take a rocket scientist.” He seems agitated.
“W
ell, I guess I am here to answer any questions you may have,” I say with caution.
“Here’s what I wanna know. How does she deserve eternal damnation for one act? Especially since I’ve already forgiven her and I’m the one she murdered, right? Shouldn’t that count for something?”
“Really?” I ask him. “You have already forgiven her?”
“I’m pretty sure I forgave her the second I realized what she was doing,” he says, laughing again like we were back on the ice or the loft conversation.
I, on the other hand, start blubbering almost immediately. “Hank.” Is all I can say. I sink back in my chair as he continues.
“I have always known that Linda was too good for me. She was a gift, something sent to me that I didn’t deserve.”
“I think you are selling yourself short.” I choke on a small sob.
“Please. You of all people, Louise, were standing in line to make sure I knew that.”
“Oh, Hank.” Now my tears are falling freely.
“That toast at our rehearsal dinner.” His voice is not accusing. It was just a statement.
“That toast was totally inappropriate.” I am suddenly filled with regret.
“That toast was truth,” he says.
My head betrays me, and my brain flees to the past to recall that horrible night one more time. That speech. That drunken, stupid, arrogant speech.
“Would you like to know the secret of the universe, kids? Cuz I’ve got it right here. Men always want what they can’t have, and never want what they’ve got. And women always want what they used to have and they will settle for anything or anyone that gives them the illusion that they can have it back. And there will be moments, and this might actually be one for our Linda, when you can actually sit back and say that you are content, almost happy with your life, with yourself and the one standing next to you...and you should embrace those moments, because they will all go away—quickly.”
Remembering Hell Page 7