by Penni Jones
“What happens if we fall?” I ask.
“We won’t,” Edgar says.
“I think I like carnivals,” Greg says. He squints like he’s trying to remember.
“You do,” I say. “You took me to one once. We ate elephant ears and cotton candy. I thought I was going to puke.”
I hovered over a big garbage can, full of beer cups and neon-orange nacho cheese. Greg didn’t leave my side even though I wanted him to. I didn’t want him to see me vomit into a trash can. My nausea eventually passed, but the smell of beer made me feel queasy for months afterward.
His voice distorts in disgust. “We ate elephant ears? That’s terrible. What kind of person was I?” It’s like he’s been lobotomized.
“Not actual ears of elephants. It’s like fried dough with powdered sugar. They’re disgusting and good at the same time.” I take in the details of Greg’s face. This is the last time I’ll ever see him. He’s already not Greg, and next he’ll either be someone else entirely or gone forever.
“Edgar, if he has to go is it possible that he’ll come back like you and Tony?” I ask.
“No. I’m sorry. That rarely happens. This time was strictly because of Doris.” His mouth turns up on the sides a little and he says, “In fact, if she doesn’t come back, Tony and I have to return. She fucked us all.”
The sky turns gray so quickly I wonder if it was ever blue at all. The slight breeze is now a bone-chilling wind. I put one hand on Edgar’s leg and one on Greg’s. I don’t know which one I’m about to lose. Maybe both. Or maybe it wants me.
“Does it hurt as much as it seems like it does?” I ask Edgar.
He nods solemnly in response.
The Shadow comes up from the base of the Ferris wheel. We all see it at the same time. Both of their faces register terror. I’m sure mine does, too.
The wheel stops moving. My instinct is to try to climb away. But where can I go?
The air goes still like right before a tornado hits. The Shadow is face-to-face with us, glaring. I can feel the oppressive hate from its gaze. It takes Greg into its fanged-mouth. Our seat rocks back and forth from the wind created by the Shadow’s sudden movement. Greg starts to scream but he’s gone before the sound hits our ears. Only his feet are visible. The Shadow’s head goes backward and he slurps Greg down his throat. There’s nothing left of him. I want to scream, but I don’t want to draw attention to myself. Even though the Shadow already knows I’m here.
It turns back to us and the horrifying stillness returns. It appears to be smiling, or maybe leering. Maybe those are the same thing to the Shadow.
And then we’re gone. Both of us. We’re back in the boardroom. Instead of Oblivion, the gloriously boring boardroom.
The fear gives way to relief. We both start laughing with everything we have. Then, at the same time, we remember that Greg is gone. Forever.
Ernesto, Tony, and Doris are here. They are taking their seats and we follow suit.
“Greg’s gone,” I say. I grieved for him so long after he committed suicide that I don’t have much grief left for him. It’s just enough to give me pause, to carve out a new hollow spot in my being. But I don’t feel gutted this time.
“I’m sorry,” Ernesto says. “We tried to get her back in time.”
Doris looks down to the table and says nothing.
“This is your fault, Doris,” I say.
She looks up and says, “He wouldn’t have made it anyway. He was damaged to his core.”
“It’s not up to us to make that decision,” Edgar says, and I’m thankful.
“Where’s Luke?” His absence is suddenly a heavy presence. I’ll never see him again, either. Everything is fleeting.
Tony smiles and says, “He stayed behind. He’s going to be a dad. It’s what he wanted.”
“What comes next?” I ask. So much has happened and it’s still not over.
A heavy silence falls across the room. I wonder how long it goes on. I wish I could know.
“I want to see Jennifer,” Doris says.
“Who?” I ask.
“My niece. She’s here. That’s how they got me to come back.” Her face reveals a sadness I’ve never seen in her before.
For a second I almost feel sorry for Doris. She is vulnerable. She is human, or at least she was at one time. But then I think of Greg, and wish nothing but the worst for her.
A woman appears in the room. She looks terrified and confused, just like everyone does when they’re new here. Her eyes scan the room and land on Doris. She stares at her and asks, “Are you my Aunt Doris?”
Doris stands and says, “You’re so grown up.” She wraps her arms around Jennifer, and I know that the hug doesn’t feel the way they want it to.
There’s a slight resemblance between the two. Jennifer is tall and slender like Doris, but she has a softness that Doris either never had or lost somewhere along the way.
“My sweet girl,” Doris says. “Why did you do this?”
Jennifer pulls away and says, “Why did you?”
“Touché.” Doris smiles slyly.
Jennifer’s eyes dart around the room. “What is this?”
“This, my dear, is my reckoning. I’ve done some things I have to answer for. But first I wanted to see you.” A smile of resignation crosses Doris’ face. “How’s your grief watch going?”
“It’s awful. My son is so broken-hearted.” Jennifer looks down.
“I know. He’ll be okay, though,” Doris says. “Kids are resilient.”
I almost don’t recognize the gentle pull because I’m so entranced by this new, nurturing Doris.
Now I’m in a large kitchen with marble countertops and a ceramic tile floor. Louisa is here.
“Where have you been?” she asks.
“In Juniper Haskell’s body.”
“The televangelist from a long time ago?”
“Yeah,” I say.
“Saggy tits?” she asks.
“The saggiest.”
“Huh. Weird.” She turns her attention to a gray-haired woman who is stir-frying vegetables in a pan.
“If you want to stay with me, you can. You can be a mentor. It’s your choice.”
Louisa smiles and says, “Yeah. I’d like that.” And it feels good to know that I won’t be alone, and neither will she.
“Who’s that?” I ask.
“My nana. My mom’s mom.”
“This house is amazing.”
“I know. I wanted to live here but my mom wouldn’t let me,” she says. “Everything would have been different for me here. I think so, anyway. No way to know for sure.”
“Have you done anything to help her cry yet?”
“Nah. I’ve enjoyed being here too much. She’s so pretty, isn’t she?” Louisa stares at the woman. There’s nothing but love in her eyes. “She was a model when she was young. She wanted to move to LA to become an actress, but she met my grandpa and abandoned her dreams.”
“Did she regret it?”
“I think so. But she wouldn’t admit it.”
Louisa’s grandmother takes chicken from the refrigerator. It’s already chopped up into bite-sized pieces. I wonder if Louisa was here to watch her do the prep-work. She adds it to the pan and continues stirring.
“I used to hate all of the healthy cooking. All my friends had grandmas who made cookies and pot pies. My nana made salads, stir fries, and the occasional sorbet. But she knew I was living off junk food at home. She wanted to save me.” Her eyes remain trained on her grandmother. “She’ll cry soon. I’m the reason she cuts the chicken so small.”
As if the woman heard Louisa, a single dignified tear rolls down her cheek. She wipes it with the back of her hand and continues to stir.
“That’s probably it,” Louisa says. “She’s not one for showing emotion.”
The pull starts and we’re back in the boardroom. Jennifer is gone.
A man stands behind the podium in the front of the room. He’s wearing grand, color
ful robes and one of those white English wigs that barristers wear. He has a gavel in his hand.
“How do you plead?” His voice is a booming megaphone.
Doris’ face is defiant as she stands. “Guilty.”
Louisa whispers into my ear, “What’s going on?”
“I’ll tell you later,” I whisper in return. Where would I even start?
Ernesto stands and says, “I’d like to speak on Doris’ behalf, please.”
The judge nods and says, “Carry on.”
“Doris has given forty years of service to the Suicide Soul Placement Program. It’s an exhausting job, and she did not waiver in her duties. Though she cut corners, therefore causing harm to others, she helped thousands. I do not believe her intention was to send Greg to Oblivion. She merely meant to hold him back a little in order to further her own path.”
Doris watches Ernesto speak, her eyes revealing sorrow and maybe even a little bit of love.
Ernesto says, “I suggest that instead of Oblivion, we send her through the Suicide Soul Program as a civilian. She obviously can’t go through grief watch again, but she can take her place in line and go through the standard selection process. And, of course, have the memory of her previous life removed.”
The judge looks from Ernesto to Doris and says, “I’ll give it some consideration. We will reconvene in two segments.” He bangs the gavel and disappears.
* * *
Luke
I stop at a bodega on the way back to Rochelle’s and buy her some flowers and candy. I took money from Juniper’s purse. Naomi left an envelope in the purse with my name on it so it’s a good thing I went snooping. There was a couple hundred bucks for me, and also a check for ten grand made out to someone named Daisy Moore. Naomi left a note asking me to find the girl’s address in Missouri and send her the money. Good thinking on Naomi’s part to help her friend that way.
Rochelle greets me with a tentative smile. I thrust the flowers and candy toward her.
“Thanks, sweetie. I didn’t think you’d be back so soon.” She doesn’t step aside for me to enter.
“I just wanted to see you before I go back to Connecticut. Can I come in?”
She nods and says, “Sure.” I follow her in and close the door.
Rochelle lays the flowers on the kitchen countertop. They take up the entire space. She opens the candy and pops one in her mouth. She chews one for a second and spits it into the sink.
“Oh my god, Andy! Do these have almonds in them?” she asks.
“I don’t know.” I grab the box and scan the ingredients. “Yeah.”
“Are you trying to fucking kill me?” She opens a cabinet and pulls out a bottle of bright red liquid.
“What’s that?” I ask.
“Children’s Benadryl. The liquid works faster. I’m trying to avoid using the EpiPen.”
I don’t know what an EpiPen is, but this is obviously bad. “I’m so sorry. What can I do?”
“You can learn to read a label, you fucking idiot.” She swallows a shot of Benadryl and glares at me.
“Are you okay?”
“I think so.” She puts her hands flat on the countertop and looks up at me. “What is wrong with you? You know I’m allergic to almonds.”
“It’s hard to explain. I told you I’m having some memory problems.” I approach her and grab her hands in mine. “It’s going to be okay, though.”
“It’s not really a brain tumor or anything, right? That would really suck right now.”
“No. Just stress and stuff. No big deal.” I lean forward and kiss the top of her head. “I need to go. I’ll see you as soon as possible. I have to get back.”
Rochelle smiles and nods.
“Sorry for trying to kill you,” I say.
“Don’t let it happen again. You need me alive to cook this baby,” she says.
I pull her into my arms and say, “We’re going to figure this out. Together.” I want to tell her I love her, but it wouldn’t be true. But I think I can someday.
“That sounds great.” She returns my hug. It feels amazing.
I’m holding her against my body when I hear it. A sneeze. At first I think maybe the walls are just that thin. Apartments can be that way. But it was too close.
The bathroom door is closed.
I push her gently away from me and say, “Who’s in the bathroom?”
“Nobody.”
I turn away from her and walk toward the bathroom. In the two seconds it takes me to get there she says, “No, Andy,” and “Don’t do it.”
But I do. I open the door.
A tall thin man with pants that hang too low stands there looking at me. His chin sticks out smugly and I don’t know why but I catch his face with a right hook.
That’s definitely not something Luke would have done.
“Tha fuck?” He pushes me out of the bathroom and takes a swing at my face. I duck and hit that smug chin with an upper cut.
When did I learn to fight?
I stop to look down at my fists, these newfound weapons. The man pushes me to the floor and kicks me in the ribs.
“STOP IT!” Rochelle yells. She pulls him away from me just as he’s preparing to land another kick.
“Tell him or I will,” he says. He tugs at his pants. I don’t know why he’s not wearing a belt.
Rochelle’s face falls into a pained expression. I want to stand up and hug her, but instead I stay on the floor.
I sit up straight and say, “Tell me what?” Even though I’m already pretty sure what the answer is, and I really don’t want to hear it.
“It’s Trip’s baby. Not yours. I took the test a few days ago.”
The baggy-pants asshole crosses his arms and nods at me. “That’s right, motherfucker. My baby.” He pats in own chest for punctuation.
He’s punched me in the gut without touching me.
“Why did you do this?” I ask.
Rochelle squats down so she’s eye-level with me. “You knew this was a possibility, Andy. I was going to tell you when I found out, but you didn’t answer my calls. When you showed up here, I just couldn’t do it.” She sits back on her heels. “I knew you’d be a good dad. Even after you ghosted me. I never once thought you’d be gone for good.”
“Tell the fucking truth. It was about the money,” Trip interjects.
“That’s not true. I have my own money,” she says.
I stand up and look at Rochelle. “You have no idea what you’ve done to me.”
I walk out of the front door. I don’t know if she’s calling to me. I’ve tuned her out completely. My head is too full of regret and grief. It’s an ugly combination. This is where the old me would have probably killed himself.
Chapter 36
Naomi
Louisa is gone again. I don’t know how I know it, but she is finishing her grief watch right now. The rest of us are waiting in the boardroom for the judge to return. There’s really nowhere else for us to go.
Doris turns to me and says, “Sorry.”
“For which part?”
“For thinking you had the stones for this position,” she leans back and crosses her arms over her chest.
“Doris!” Ernesto barks her name in a reprimand.
She rolls her eyes and leans forward. “All right, fine. I’m sorry about Greg. And I’m sorry I wasn’t more thoughtful during the job transition.” She puts her hand over mine. The energy is colder than I expect. “But, my dear girl, you will have to toughen up.”
“I’m plenty tough.” I have no idea how she is still able to make me feel defensive at this point. I shouldn’t give two shits about her opinion of me.
“You care too much. That will not benefit you when all of these souls are your responsibility.”
I consider her words carefully. She’s wrong. She has to be.
“We’ll help you with the transition, Naomi,” Tony says.
“Wow. Thank you.” His sudden kindness is almost unnerving. But I’m goin
g to accept it as an honest thing.
“Yes,” Ernesto says. “And if you have any questions, please don’t hesitate to ask.”
“Thank you.” I say and then turn to Tony. “Both of you.”
Doris rolls her eyes again and says, “Give me a fucking break.”
Ernesto sighs and says, “Seriously, Doris? Have you learned nothing?”
She looks down and says, “Maybe it’s been too long. I’m just too cynical. Hell, I was cynical long before I stepped in front of the bus. And I did try to care for a long time. You know I did. But how many souls did I care about, only to see them fuck up their grief watch and go to Oblivion?”
“I don’t know,” Ernesto says.
“Me, neither. I stopped counting twenty-five years ago.” Doris looks at me and says, “If you care too much, this will drain you. You can’t save people if they aren’t interested in saving themselves.” She nods her head toward Ernesto and says, “He sees the suicide souls after they’ve completed grief watch. And the souls he spends the most time with are permanent residents. He simply cannot understand what it’s like.”
“But I do,” Tony says.
“Of course, you do. That’s why you’re brazen enough to play that little game with Edgar, gambling on these souls like they’re racehorses.”
Tony bites his bottom lip and looks down. I can’t help but mimic the lip-bite just to see how it feels. It feels like nothing.
“Are you scared?” I ask and immediately feel foolish.
Doris nods solemnly and says, “Yes. But this is a mess of my own making. Remember me when you get tempted to abuse your power. You’ll have plenty of opportunities to do it.” She turns to Ernesto again and says, “Thank you, Ernesto, for standing up for me. I doubt it will do any good at this point. But it was still very thoughtful.”
“Of course. How could I not?” he asks.
“Well, I’m not exactly popular around here,” she says. The sudden humility rings fake.
“I don’t think you’re a bad soul. I think you just messed up. Everyone messes up sometimes,” Ernesto says.