Pa coming closer and closer, impossibly so, the deep pores of his face magnifying, becoming caverns…Closer…Closer…
Then darkness…
In the distance, the sweet trills of a songbird. Soft, fragile things graze her cheeks. And something more. A pleasant scent.
Grammie’s flowers!
Darkness grays then the world slowly brightens. Sight resolving, Michelle finds herself in a seemingly endless field of roses and pink peonies, monarch butterflies fluttering around her head.
She turns and smiles, a few yards shy of Grammie and Pa’s old house.
On the porch swing, he sits and raises a glass of iced tea to his lips.
Still in her black suit from the job interview, she walks toward the house, in no rush, marveling at the splendor of the pink-on-red horizon that is kissing the noon-blue sky. But something, despite opulent surroundings, is missing here.
Warmth.
She hugs herself against intense inner-chills, moves up the porch stairs. “Am I dead?” she asks.
“Strange question, wouldn’t you say?” he mumbles.
She brushes off his cold response, though it hurts, and asks, “What is this place, Pa?”
“The Land Between the Living and the Dead,” he says plainly.
“And what am I doing here?”
“You come here all the time, Michelle. All the time.” He looks into the distance and takes another sip. He’s clearly not surprised or particularly happy to see her.
She puts her hand on his shoulder, and he jerks back. “Wha-what?” he blurts.
“I’ve never been here before,” she pleads.
His mouth goes wide, and he clutches her hands. “It’s really you,” he says. “Really you.”
“Yes.”
“I bring you here all the time, darling. I bring your Grammie here, too.”
“Hi Michelle,” Grammie says, standing in the doorway.
Michelle moves toward her, acting on instinct, but Pa grabs her arm and guides her back, a smile cracking his face. “That’s not really her,” he says. “If you throw your arms around that, you’re liable to bang your head on the door jamb.”
“Sure is a nice day, isn’t it?” Grammie says.
“Lovely day,” agrees Michelle.
Pa shakes his head then pats the empty space next to him. “Have something to drink. It’ll help a little.”
She sits and takes the full glass of iced tea, which wasn’t there a moment before, off the table next to her. Takes a sip and feels a modicum of heat spread through her core. Not much. But it helps. “Thank you. Strange to be warmed by a cold beverage.”
He laughs. “Everything’s a little off here. Can’t make much sense of it. But the scenery is hard to complain about.”
“A beautiful day,” Grammie repeats.
Pa groans. The image of Grammie dissolves. “I can lead ’em here, but I can’t make ’em think or say anything remotely interesting. Like broken records, they all just keep repeating the same damn thing.”
“Sounds like a pain in the ass,” Michelle says.
“See, you haven’t said anything like that to me in forever, Michelle. I’ve missed you so much.”
“What line do I repeat over and over when you bring me here?”
“You just keep agreeing with your Grammie.”
He puts his arms around her and they hug for a long moment. Then he pulls away, a sorrowful expression taking shape. “Does this mean? Did something happen to you?”
“I don’t think so, Pa. I was talking to you, trying to reach you, and something…well, something just pulled me into this place. I thought it was you. Reminded me of the times when Dawn and I used to connect.”
“Might have been me,” he says. “Funny how things really work.”
“How do they really work?”
“Fucked if I know. That’s why it’s so damn funny.”
She laughs and slaps him on the shoulder.
A moment of silence, then, “I’m sorry,” he says morosely.
“You’ve told me that before.”
“I should have done more to protect you.”
“You did more than anyone else.”
“Yeah, but it wasn’t enough. I knew something bad was going to happen, just knew it, but everyone thought I was losing my marbles.”
“They were just trying to protect you.”
He nods. “They were, indeed.”
“Faith had the power, Pa. Not you. She was the one who fell into the abyss.”
He turns and frowns. “You’ve taken to calling your mother by her first name?”
“She’s…she’s—”
“She’s what?”
Michelle can see in his eyes that he already suspects the answer. “She’s gone now.”
“She loved you…very much,” he chokes.
“I’m starting to realize that.”
“She just—”
Michelle puts an arm around him. “I know, Pa. I know.”
“She just lost her way is all. When you think about her, remember the good times.”
“I will,” she whispers.
“The way she used to carry on about you and Dawn and how proud she was. The way Cale and she used to light up a room…the way they…”
She holds him tighter. “Don’t do this to yourself.”
“They had a lot of time left. The best years of their lives.”
Grammie reappears by the doorway, and Pa looks in her direction, smiling through the pain. Grammie returns his smile, but it’s clearly not real. “Take it from someone who knows firsthand,” he says.
They sit in silence for a long time, enjoying the summer scents and colors. And Michelle drinks her tea, savoring every sip, sure it’s the best thing she has ever tasted. Hints of cinnamon and berries, not too sweet but full on flavor.
Finally, she says, “I have to tell you something, Pa.”
“Go ahead.”
She tells him everything. That she isn’t going to college. About her sexuality. She even talks about Reggie and Tyler Ellison for the first time, revealing every detail from six years ago. He listens to every utterance. Never interrupting. Eyes warm and unwavering.
Words flood easily from her mouth. When she finally finishes, she feels like dancing, though chills still stab deep within.
“I love you,” he says. “I’ll always love you.”
“I talk to you when you seem to be there, with the world.”
“I can’t remember any of that, Michelle. Sometimes I feel like I’m still with you, but…but I can’t remember any of that. I’m sorry. I wish I could.”
“Well, we’re together now, and I need help. What should I do?”
“I’d rather give love than advice. Love endures. Advice is just some asshole’s opinion. Gave a lot of advice to your daddy…didn’t do much good.”
“Then why am I here.”
“Dunno. Maybe to say goodbye.”
Carried by a gentle breeze, a soft, old song fills the day. An orchestra plays and a crooner sings. Michelle recognizes the melody but can’t place the tune.
But Pa knows it. He stands, deep recognition registering on his face. “They’re playing Lucy and my song. Good ‘ol Bobby D.”
Then, thanks to the lyrics, the title hits her: “Beyond the Sea.”
In front of the house, a door appears. Grammie stands within it, wearing her favorite garden dress.
He turns to Michelle. “I think this is my cue.”
“I love you.”
“I love you, too, angel. I love you so very much.” He gives her another hug, more warming than the tea, then jogs toward the new doorway and the love of his life.
Standing on the porch, Michelle waves and calls out, “I love you, Grammie!”
“Love you, too, sugar!” she calls back.
Then Grammie and Pa are in each other’s arms, dancing to the music that continues to grace The Land Between the Living and the Dead.
In an instant, Michelle f
ound herself in the warm, gray living room, her hand still touching Pa’s face. She put one arm around him and held his wrist, feeling for a pulse.
Nothing.
“Goodbye, Pa,” she whispered in his ear. “Goodbye.
3
The day Laura left for college, the sky cried.
Michelle pressed her hand against the cool glass of the living room’s picture window and wished she could do the same. Sorrow had been her bedfellow for too long, and she needed to step out of the empty house, her silent refuge for the past two days.
Without grabbing a jacket or locking the door behind her, she entered the day.
Rain pelting her face, she ran down cracked sidewalks and through soggy yards. She ran down Grand Avenue, ignoring the honks of passing motorists. Down avenues and streets, narrow and wide.
Then she stopped.
In the distance, Laura wore a rain slicker, putting a box in the back of her mother’s station wagon. Michelle, standing on the opposite side of the road, watched her best and only friend, the girl she loved more than anyone in the world, preparing for a new adventure. It was a devastating scene for which Michelle had few words.
Laura slammed the hatch and turned, catching sight of Michelle. “What are you doing out here?” she called.
“It’s complicated,” Michelle called back.
“Isn’t it always?” Laura ran across the street and put her arms around Michelle. “You’re freezing, Shell.”
“I had to say goodbye.”
“Come inside for a few minutes. We’re leaving soon, but Mom has a pot of coffee on. You can warm yourself up, and we can chat for a bit.”
Michelle shook her head. “I don’t want this to be a warm moment. I want it to hurt. It’s supposed to hurt.”
“Why are you doing this to yourself, Shell?”
“Would you believe me if I told you I wasn’t?”
Laura shook her head. “Sorry. I see what I see.”
“I envy you.”
“Why? I’m a mess, just like you.”
“You’ll be fine, Laura.”
“Forgive me if I dismiss your sudden optimism.”
“Just do me a favor.”
“Anything.”
“Never let your filters become blinders.”
Laura chuckled, though she clearly found no humor in what Michelle had said. “What’s that supposed to mean? Come on. Let’s get you out of the rain at least. We need to have a proper—”
“I can’t.” Quickly, Michelle grabbed Laura’s head and kissed her, hard and deep. Then, without waiting for a reaction, she started running again.
No sense of direction or time, she kept moving, going nowhere fast, still running long after the storm had ended.
—Chapter Five—
1
Thirty minutes early, Michelle stepped into the training area. Four long tables filled the room, a lectern standing before them. On each of the tables were five cardboard nameplates spaced out evenly. Her name was found on the first row, between Sabrina Drake and Wayne Snider, Jr. She scoffed at the last name. She’d never met a “junior” that wasn’t a douchebag.
She sat in her assigned seat and unclipped her security badge from her belt. She stared at her likeness on the badge. The scared, sad girl in the photo gazed back.
Movement in her periphery, Michelle shifted attention to the door, where a tan girl with short blonde hair stood, furtively inspecting her environs. Though in dress code, she wore fishnet stockings and a vintage Roxy Music pin on the lapel of a heavily faded leather jacket. A new-looking pair of Chuck Taylors graced her feet. Michelle liked her at first glance.
“Am I in the right place?” the girl asked.
“Here for training?”
“Can’t think of a better reason.”
“Same story here. What’s your name?”
“Sabrina.”
Michelle smiled. “Drake?”
The girl smirked, eyes narrowing. “Do I know you?”
“No. They have our names on the tables.” She motioned dumbly to the rest of the room as if Sabrina couldn’t see for herself, feeling a rare pang of insecurity. “Your name is here, next to mine.”
“Ah, cool.” Sabrina strode cat-like across the room then plopped into her seat.
Extending a quivering hand, Michelle told the girl her name and added, “Glad to meet you.”
“Hey, Shelly.” The girl pumped the proffered hand once then snapped a strange two-fingered salute. “Good to know who I’m spending the next three weeks with. Ever do customer service before?”
“No.”
“It sucks, but you’ll get over it. I worked a call center in KC for a few years before my parents moved here. Flunked out of school, got into some trouble, had to move here to be with them. How ’bout you? What’s your story, morning glory?”
Staggered by the depth of information Sabrina had fired off, Michelle shrugged.
The fast-talking girl pushed on. “Shy, huh?”
Michelle held up two slightly separated fingers and said, “A little, maybe.”
“You gotta have a story. Give it to me in three lines. What brings you here?”
“I don’t think we have time for my story.”
Sabrina laughed. “That’s one of the first things you need to learn in a job like this. Put it in a nutshell. These places monitor call times like they’re NASA launching a fuckin’ shuttle to Mars or something. Take the long way around too many issues and...” She finished the sentence by swiping her hand across her neck. “Know what I mean, jelly bean?”
“I can be pretty direct,” Michelle said. “I’m just off my game this morning.”
“My parents both work here,” Sabrina said. An odd non sequitur, but Michelle was getting the vibe that this girl played with a different deck of cards than the rest of the world. Not a bad thing.
“Just about the whole town does,” Michelle said.
“Tou-fuckin’-ché!” Sabrina said. “Yeah, they love it, which is pretty rare in a place like this. They say everyone loves it, but I sorta doubt that. They don’t exactly have much experience with big corporations—used to run a used bookstore up in Gladstone.”
“Cool. I love books.”
“You’d have loved their place. Books as far as the eye could see. Most stores like theirs stick to bestsellers—racks and racks of Tom Clancy and John Grisham.” Sabrina pretended to gag. “Not Mom and Dad. They carried everything. Loved what they did like fat kids love cake.”
“Why’d they stop?”
“Place went tits up. Tried to liquidate their collection of rare first editions to save grace, but you try to unload Hemingway in a Hunger Games economy and see how that works for you. Nah, they had to do something else, so they landed here. Say it saved ’em, and I can’t argue. They’re a lot happier than they were, even if they don’t read anymore.”
“You read a lot?”
“Hells yeah. Read fast, too. Do everything fast. Chick who took my pee for the drug test looked me up and down, speed freak hanging over her head like one of those cartoon talk balloons. This is just who I am. Take it or leave it.”
Michelle started to respond that she’d “Take it,” but two more people walked into the room and distracted her. Sabrina swung around, introducing herself and Michelle. Then more people entered. Soon each seat was occupied, the room alive with chatter. Michelle wanted to engage Sabrina further, but the time wasn’t right.
Finally, a suited man, short and round, stepped through the doorway and said, “Good morning, class.”
A hush fell over the room, followed by a ripple of meek responses.
The suit waddled to the lectern and cleared his throat. “Welcome to Anon Financial,” he said with a bright grin. “Let’s go ahead and get started.”
2
The first two hours of the training session were tiresome, the pear-shaped drone, Malcolm Conner, reading the history of the company with the dull inflections of an elderly priest. Michelle averted
her attention from Sabrina, not wanting to associate the girl’s face with half-truths and flat-out falsehoods.
Conner closed his book, which looked a little too much like a Bible, and said, “Break time. Be back in fifteen minutes.”
Sabrina stood and stretched. “Damn, I’m dying for a smoke,” she said. “Come join me, Shell.”
“I don’t smoke.”
“Good for you, Mother Teresa.”
“But I’ll join you.”
“You better.”
She followed Sabrina through a series of hallways then up three flights of stairs, through a metal door and onto the roof of the building. In a small fenced-in courtyard, several employees stood, dragging deep from butts. A gray serpentine mist hovered over their heads but didn’t block out the blinding strength of the sun.
“If you don’t smoke now,” Sabrina said, “you will soon. Occupational hazard.”
“My mom used to smoke, and I don’t want to—”
“Hey, you’re Michelle Breedlove, right?” a male voice interrupted.
“That’s me,” Michelle said, her addresser bleeding out of a sun-and-smoke haze. She quickly recognized him. Corey Stillman, a guy who’d graduated from Oak Lawn High the previous year. His acne had cleared up, but he was still the same lanky dork. Though she fundamentally distrusted everyone but Laura from high school, he’d never been on the giving end of torment. He’d always been too busy trying to fit in.
“Who’s your friend?” he asked.
There it was—the word friend spoken out loud. She cringed and waited for Sabrina to say something like, we’re not friends. That didn’t happen. Instead, Sabrina introduced herself with a smile and shook Corey’s hand. “We go way back,” she said. “Shell here saved my life back in ’Nam.”
Corey laughed nervously then threw his attention back to Michelle. “How’s Laura?” he asked.
The question struck Michelle odd. Corey and Laura had never been friends. “She left for college. Guess she’s fine, but—”
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