I lean out the window. “My window is broken!” I yell. “Stay in the bushes!”
If I’d studied with Hilda I’d know how to fix this. I try to keep my commands simple. Why did she bother showing me that it’s possible to make syrup bottles drip? I need to be able to communicate with the living. That’s the first thing they should teach dead people.
“Bushes are safe!” I try hard to use my energy to rustle the boxwood or make a wood chip fly at him to frighten him off, but nothing works. “Window equals police.” I don’t know if that’s true, but sometimes people respond to dramatic statements.
“This is one of the stupidest things I’ve ever done in my life,” Henry says.
“True!” I say. “Leave! My room is no place for you!”
I look around to ascertain the state of my belongings. Whoa. People have just entered my room. Grandma and Aunt Claire. And they’re taking my things. That seems premature. I know I don’t need them anymore, but it feels inappropriate to swoop in and snatch them right before my funeral. I watch as they set out all of my makeup on my dresser and sort through it. Oh. I remember. They’re gathering my makeup so they can prepare my body. I look at the unmade bed and the discarded clothes on the floor. It’s embarrassing to count five pairs of dirty underwear draped around my laundry basket. Alive, I didn’t feel like I was a slob, but looking at things now, I realize I should have treated my room like a sanctuary instead of a locker room equipped with a television.
My grandmother picks up some hideous purple nail polish that I bought as a joke to decorate my toenails in eighth grade.
“Should we paint her fingernails?” Aunt Claire asks.
“Don’t bury me with purple fingernails!” I plead.
This is so stressful. If I could just tell them—if I could just let them know what I want—death would be so much easier. I should have kept an in-case-I-die journal. And in it I should have left detailed instructions. And I should have kept a current photo of myself with it. And a list of all the makeup I use, which isn’t much. This entire postdeath catastrophe could have been avoided.
“I think she only painted her nails for Halloween,” Grandma says.
That’s not entirely true, but close enough. “Nice call, Grandma.”
“What about perfume?” Aunt Claire asks.
I can’t look at this anymore. Where Aunt Claire found the bottle she’s holding, I’m not quite sure. I never wore perfume. And even if I did, you don’t put that stuff on dead teenagers. What’s wrong with her? Sadie needs to hurry up. I can hear her voice. She’s talking to my mother in the living room. Just get in here. She doesn’t need to talk to my mother. They’re not that close. And why is Henry still in my boxwood? He’s smart; he should be able to sense danger. Now I hear something else. The doorbell. I leave my room to see who it is. It’s Tate. He agreed to help after all.
My mother lets him inside, and I watch them hug. He looks sad. She looks miserable. And Sadie is anxious beyond belief. She has a backpack slung over her shoulder.
“So you don’t mind if I visit her room?” she asks.
That my room has become the most popular destination on the block creeps me out.
My mother tilts her head back, and I watch tears form at the corners of her eyes and slip down her face. “Spend as much time as you need.”
They hug, and I feel a strong twinge of jealousy. I wish I could be the one hugging my mother. Sadie turns toward my bedroom, and my mother stops her. “Wait. Doesn’t she have some of your things?”
Sadie flips back around. She looks startled. “I, uh, don’t know what she has in her room.” She stumbles when she talks. She’s afraid that my mother already knows.
“She’s got your shoes. Remember?” my mother says. “You should probably take those now.”
Sadie nods, and I watch her face relax in relief. “Right,” she says.
“I haven’t gone through her things yet,” my mother says. “I’ll need to do that. Soon.”
Sadie returns to my mother’s side and hugs her again. “I think that can wait. You should take as long as you want. And if you want me to help, I will.”
My mother sniffles. “I should just put a day on the calendar and commit to it. Otherwise, I’m going to let it turn into a shrine. I’ll never touch it. It will stay the way Molly left it. Forever.”
That actually sounds good, I think. Because If I don’t cross, I’ll be able to surround myself with my stuff. It will be a lot like being alive. Except different. I feel a slight urge to return to my bedroom. Panic shoots through me. What if Grandma has spotted Henry in the bushes?
When I get there I see that nobody has discovered Henry. They’re finalizing my makeup. “This is her blush,” my grandma says. “Remember the photo I showed you?”
But I don’t wear blush. That was just a free sample that I got at the mall. “Mom!” I call. “Can we get Grandma a more recent photo? She’s going to make me look like a middle-school student, or possibly a child prostitute.” It’s the last time anybody is going to see me. I want to look natural, like myself.
My mother doesn’t appear. It seems insane that a couple of days ago I could call for her anywhere in the house and she’d come to me. She was my mother. Now I don’t know if I’m ever going to see her again. I cannot imagine a future without my mother; I cannot lose her clock. Shouldn’t Louise be keeping track of this for me? Isn’t that her job?
“You still have your mother. Your father. Your grandma. Sadie. Henry. And the people who matter most,” Louise says.
If I were somebody’s counselor, I wouldn’t appear and disappear without any warning. I’d try my hardest to be a nurturing presence and say things like “I’m back” or “I’m leaving, and you can expect me back in an hour.”
“After this, I want to go check on them myself,” I say. I trust her, but I still want to verify what she’s saying. After talking to Hilda, I’m not really sure that Louise is as invested in my outcome as I originally thought. I’m just one of many souls. It doesn’t really matter to her where I end up.
“You’re always free to return to the transition room,” Louise says.
“That place with the clocks and your desk has a name?” I ask. “You never told me that.”
“There’s a sign on the door,” Louise says.
She still should have told me that.
“Thanks,” I say. But I’m not really thankful at all. I’m annoyed. Louise has been constantly withholding information. Watching that dumb chicken hatch was a total waste of my time. Louise isn’t trying to strengthen me. Hilda was right. Louise wants to keep me in the dark so that I’ll follow exactly what she says, because that’s the easiest option for her.
“How many people do I have left?” I ask. “What’s the exact number?”
“It hasn’t been a good day for lasting eternal connections,” Louise says.
Of course this would be her answer.
“In your list of people that I have left, you didn’t mention Aunt Claire,” I say. “Why not? Have I lost Aunt Claire?”
“Not yet,” Louise says. “But you might soon. I’m sorry.”
This startles and angers me. First, I don’t think that Louise is sorry at all. Second, I like my aunt Claire. “We have a great connection!”
“Calm down,” Louise says. “It’s not always about what you did. Sometimes it’s about what they did. Sometimes alignment becomes unaligned.”
“But I haven’t lost her yet?” I ask.
“Right,” Louise says. “But there’s a crack.”
She never mentioned that the clocks cracked before they ruptured. “Are you sure you’ve given me all the information I need?”
I watch as Aunt Claire and my grandmother sort through my lip pencils. “I don’t use those anymore,” I explain. “I bought a bunch on sale but they’re too dark.”
“This looks like mauve,” my grandma says. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen Molly wear mauve.”
“Let’s just take
the whole haul,” Aunt Claire says. “We might need the options.”
“This is so morbid,” I tell Louise. “Can’t you help me reach them and tell them what to do? There’s got to be a way.” My mind flashes to Hilda. She’d probably know.
“Have you thought about your last life moment?” Louise asks.
I cannot believe she is bringing that up right now. “I am comforting my family! And Henry Shaw, who happens to love me and is currently sitting in my boxwood hedge,” I snap.
“It’s great that you visited Henry,” Louise says. She seems happy about it.
“Yeah, it is great. And you were right. He did break up with Melka. Turns out, we started to fall in love the night we kissed. Were you aware of that? And now none of that matters, because I’m dead. That’s right. Everything sucks worse. Because in that life moment, I learned that I had screwed up the only important relationship I will ever have. I ruined it. Are you satisfied? Does it make you happy that I relived that life moment and got some clarity?” My anger at the situation is now redirected toward Louise.
“Your death doesn’t make me happy, Molly. But we all die.”
She’s already said that once, and she doesn’t need to say it again. Hearing it doesn’t make me feel any better.
“In your moment with Henry you sought clarity. You gained something.”
I don’t feel like I gained anything. And the only reason I learned anything useful is that I followed Hilda’s advice on how to stay in the moment. Without it, I wouldn’t have known how to eavesdrop on Henry and Melka.
“For your last life moment, I really want to encourage you to confront a fear. Get as much clarity as you can while you still have the chance.”
More clarity? This advice feels cryptic and oddly manipulative, and it totally ignores my stated preoccupations. “If you think you know which life moment I should relive, why don’t you just tell me?”
“I can’t instruct you that way,” Louise says.
“Right,” I say. “You can only give me enough information to make me feel doomed and flawed. Thanks.”
“If being in your house with your family is too hard for you, you can always go somewhere else for a little while,” Louise says.
Just as she finishes telling me this, my grandmother bursts into tears, and Sadie enters my bedroom.
“I can’t just leave them grieving like this,” I say. “They need me.”
Louise shakes her head. “As shallow as this may sound, their wounds will heal.”
I watch as Sadie hugs my grandmother. I wonder if the tables were turned I would have driven to Sadie’s house and gone into her bedroom and hugged her grandmother. I’d like to think I would have done that.
“My parents will never get over me,” I say. Hilda was right. Clearly, Louise has an agenda and wants me to cross. She sees how depressed and grief-stricken we all are, and she’s not even suggesting I could stay.
“Your parents will keep on living,” Louise says. “The twins won’t replace you, but it will give your mom and dad new experiences. They will find new joys.”
“Stop!” I tell Louise. I try to keep my focus on what’s happening in my room.
“I told Sadie she could spend a few minutes alone in Molly’s room,” my mother says.
“We’ve got what we need,” Aunt Claire says. “We’re headed to the mortuary now.” She’s well stocked with random bits of makeup that I never intended to wear. But I am relieved she seems to have forgotten an entire bag. Maybe it will make her go light on my final makeover.
My grandma picks a garment bag up from my bed. These must be the clothes that I’m going to get buried in. What are they? My mother let my grandmother choose my burial clothes? My mother’s grief must be debilitating. Because we both know that my grandma has no correct impulses when it comes to fashion.
“Thank you,” my mother says. “I’m sure Molly would appreciate all your efforts to make her look her best.”
“Yes,” I say. “I do. But can we get her a more recent picture? And tell them about the lip pencils? And blush? And she forgot my blush brush. If you apply it with your fingers it can leave smudge marks.”
“This is how you comfort your family?” Louise asks. “By obsessing about your burial appearance?”
I am done with Louise Davis. She’s rotten. “I’ve got this covered. Really. I don’t need to see you again until the funeral.”
“You need to be careful,” Louise says. “You don’t want to say something wrong in anger.”
“Wrong?” I am beyond pissed off at Louise. “I want you to leave. There’s nothing wrong about that.”
“Molly, if you phrase that statement like a commandment, you might unintentionally banish me.”
That sounds like pure bliss.
“I have that kind of power?” I ask.
“You’re a soul, Molly. You contain tremendous power.”
“I’m sick of you, Louise. You’re vague. You’re unhelpful. You’re depressing. You’re bossy. Maybe we should take a break and meet up later. I’ll come find you in the transition room.”
“Don’t do it,” Louise says. “You’ll regret it.”
I will never regret this. As soon as I’ve made up my mind, I feel a powerful ripple of something trip through me. And I understand it. I, Molly Weller, have the power to make commandments. And I want to use it right now. “Louise Davis, I command you to leave. Don’t find me. I’ll find you.”
She doesn’t say anything to try to talk me out of it. She just goes. It’s as if she’s been vaporized. And as soon as she disappears, I feel liberated. I watch as everybody leaves my room except for Sadie. After she shuts the door, she races to the window and opens it. I notice that it stops midway. She tugs at it, trying to coax it open, but it won’t budge. “It’s broken,” Sadie calls down to Henry. “You just stay there and I’ll hand you everything.”
She is an amazing friend. She flings open one of my dresser drawers and starts pawing through it. She has fantastic judgment, and selects stolen lipstick tubes, socks, key chains. She spots Melka’s bicycle keys and grabs those too. Then she races to the window.
“Round one,” she says, dumping all the contents out the window.
As Henry picks the bicycle keys up, I can tell he recognizes that they’re Melka’s. I feel so terrible. I don’t want him to think poorly of me. Ruining his impression of me would damage our connection, I’m certain. I turn my attention back to Sadie. The pressure is getting to her, and she’s racing through my room like a tornado, overlooking a ton of the stuff I stole. I’ve got a box in the back of my closet. And the pack of playing cards from my dad’s convenience store. And her ring. I need to help her, but I don’t know how to do that.
“Looks like you could use some instruction.”
I turn to snap at Louise and remind her that I commanded her to leave, but then I realize I’m not looking at Louise. It’s Hilda.
“Yes!” I say. I’m so relieved and excited that a helpful soul has arrived. “I need to tell Sadie what to do in simple commands. Or I need to write something on the mirror in lipstick. Or maybe spell something out with my socks.”
Hilda laughs at me. Hard. But that makes sense. My suggestions are ridiculous. Why am I making everything so difficult? I should ask Hilda to communicate with Sadie for me. “Can you tell her things for me?”
“No,” Hilda says. But then she smiles. “I’m going to give you a suggestion that’s going to change everything for you.”
Hilda needs to hurry. Sadie looks like she’s winding up.
“Don’t try to guide your friend. That’s so inefficient,” Hilda says. “Possess her.”
“What?” I ask. This idea seems creepy and impolite.
“The best way to accomplish the things you need to do is to jump into Sadie’s body and do them yourself. Possess her.”
“I don’t think I can do that,” I say. I watch Sadie as she futilely rummages through my sock drawer.
“It doesn’t harm an
ybody,” Hilda says.
“It feels wrong,” I say.
“Actually, it feels fantastic. All your senses will return. It’s just like being alive.”
“Hurry up!” Henry says. He’s standing below my window, reaching his arms up, stretching his hands into my room.
“I could talk to Henry?” I ask.
“You could do anything you want. Should I tell you how it works?”
Do I want that? Yes, I want that. It is so weird to want that! “But what if I’m not any good at it?” I have enormous doubts and fears that it’s not going to work.
“You have an aptitude for possession. I can tell. Everything I know about you has convinced me that you will do a marvelous job.”
I know I shouldn’t want to do this. But it feels like the only option I’ve got left.
Hilda tells me that possessing a body is like diving. She says I should imagine that Sadie is a pool of water and I need to enter her by making one powerful plunge.
I bring my arms out in front of me and press my hands together to form a point, like I’m literally going to dive. Sadie is on her hands and knees, clawing underneath my bed in a desperate attempt to find anything I’ve stolen. What started out as a calculated operation to scout for looted items has taken a turn toward chaos.
Standing over her, I aim my pressed hands at her back. And when I finally leap, I do so with every ounce of energy that I have. Much like the momentum I feel when the gray tunnels transport me, entering Sadie’s body is accompanied by a rush of speed. My soul overtakes her, and suddenly I am Sadie Dobyns. Holy crap. I can feel the carpet underneath my bed. And I have a mouth again. I can speak! And Henry is outside my window. I jump up and race to him. I can’t stop myself from sticking my head out the window and sucking in huge breaths of air.
Death of a Kleptomaniac Page 16