Living the Good Death

by Scott Baron

The diner was empty. Not surprising, as it was the kind of weather you had to be either desperate or crazy to be out in. Angela stepped out from the kitchen when she heard the door, expecting anything but what she saw.

  “Oh, honey,” she said to the soaking wet girl. “Where have you been all this time?”

  Dorothy ignored the question, intent on her purpose.

  “Where’s Randy?”

  “He’s not here, hon. Oh, look at you, you’re soaking wet. Here, I’ll get you some nice hot coffee and a towel.” She turned to pour a cup, the sound of the door swinging open and shut behind her.

  “Dorothy?” she said as she turned, but the girl who thought she was Death had already gone.

  Dorothy wasn’t the only one out in the elements that night. Thoroughly warmed by his anger, Big Stan also stalked the dark streets, soaked to the bone as he looked high and low for their troublesome patient. He was not happy spending his night searching dark alleys. The pounding rain steamed off his bald head as he turned down another alleyway, searching for the escaped girl.

  The beginnings of bedhead had shaped Randy’s coif as he slept, leaving him with an interesting look, the kind that some trendsetters would probably pay a stylist good money to recreate. He flipped on his foyer light as he trudged to the door, clad only in boxers and a T-shirt.

  “All right, all right, I’m coming,” he grumbled. “Just a minute.” Shaking the cobwebs of sleep from his head, Randy turned the knob.

  Standing there, soaked to the bone, was Dorothy, shivering and wet, an intense gleam in her eyes. He was shocked, and any remnants of sleepiness quickly gave up the ghost.

  “Dorothy, what the fuck—” he began.

  “I have to tell you something,” she interrupted. “It’s important. No lies, no holding back.”

  He wiped the last of the sleep from his eyes. “Are you going to come in?”

  “Just listen to me,” she cut in. “I am an escaped mental patient. I just broke out of a psychiatric hospital tonight, and I need to tell you the truth about me.”

  “Look, I know you’ve had some problems, and I—”

  “I am Death, Randy. And no, I’m not crazy or depressed or on drugs. I really am Death, and I really am trapped like this, in this form. I’ve been trying to find out how to cross back over, how to get back to do what I was created for. I even thought I might have found a way, but then… well then you had to come along.” Her eyes misted up, a tear mixing with the rainwater dripping down her face.

  “Look,” Randy said, “if this is your way of saying you don’t want to see me anymore, you could have just come right out and—”

  She grabbed him by the shirt, pulling him tightly to her, and kissed him.

  Hard.

  “Uh…” He was at a loss for words. “Or that works,” he finally managed.

  Dorothy grabbed him, surprised at the surge of lustful heat that flooded her body. By how much she longed for his touch. Their mouths fiercely mashing together as they staggered into his apartment, Randy kicked the door closed behind them. They knocked over everything in their path as they moved, stripping off Dorothy’s soaked attire on the way to the bedroom, leaving puddles of wet clothes in their wake, and not caring one bit.

  They tumbled through Randy’s bedroom door, landing on his bed in a writhing jumble of limbs, their long-building connection finally realized fully as a white-hot wave of passion surged through them both.

  It would be many, many hours before they’d untangle from their lovers’ embrace, wrapped in the warm haze of joyous exhaustion as they finally succumbed to sleep’s siren song.

  The clock read 9:17 a.m.

  The storm had cleared, leaving clear, blue skies in its place. A ray of warm sunlight shone through the parted curtains in Randy’s window, illuminating the lovers wrapped in a jumble of sheets.

  Dorothy slowly roused, opening her eyes and taking in the room. She noted the trail of clothes leading to the bed, her eyes crinkling in amusement. The bedding was a jumble, condom wrappers haphazardly flung on the floor. Even in the heat of the moment, Randy had somehow had the presence of mind and self-control to pause to be safe, she recalled, and what a night it had been.

  Wow, she marveled. So, that happened. Not what I was planning, but…wow.

  Turning her head, she gazed at the sleeping man next to her, a flush warming her face, and regions a bit lower as well. With an utterly contented smile, she rested her head on his chest and curled back into his arms as they instinctively wrapped around and drew her close. He cracked his eyes open, a smile of such warmth focused on her that it made her heart nearly skip a beat.

  “Hey, you,” was all he said. The look in his eyes conveyed the rest.

  “Hey.” She smiled back at him, locking eyes with the man she realized she adored, his watch faded to an afterthought. He drew her closer still, his hands gently exploring her body. Not frantic like the previous night, but relaxed and at home.

  And that was exactly how Dorothy felt.

  At home.

  A few hours later, Dorothy sat comfortably on the living room couch, coffee in hand as she replayed the prior night’s events in her head, still amazed at the turn things had taken.

  Randy, plates in hand, walked over from the kitchen.

  “Sorry, this is all I’ve got at the moment. I wasn’t exactly expecting company,” Randy said as he put a plate of toaster-waffles on the coffee table. “We can pick up some real food later.”

  “This is fine,” she replied as she took a bite. The sheer joy of carbohydrates and sugar flooded her system, recharging her body, weary from the night’s exertions.

  “So,” Dorothy said, wiping her mouth with a paper towel.

  “So,” Randy replied.

  “Look,” she began, “last night was wonderful. And so was this morning, but I realize this is all really sudden, and I appreciate your taking me in. I can stay in Sam’s room if you want. I don’t mean to be an imposition.”

  “Sam’s room? I haven’t even finished painting it, and it won’t have a bed until she moves in this summer. Besides—”

  “I can sleep on the couch. I don’t mind,” she interrupted.

  He looked at her like she was a madwoman.

  “Seriously? The couch?”

  “Well…” She didn’t know what to say.

  “I appreciate the concern, but just stay with me in my room. I mean, we’ve pretty much bulldozed any boundary issues, so why not?”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Of course I am. I was wondering, though, what about Curtis?”

  “Yeah,… he’s not really my roommate,” Dorothy confessed. “He’s actually a mental patient, like me.”

  “Why doesn’t that surprise me?” Randy laughed.

  “By helping me escape, he’s sure to be under lockdown again. And here I am, staying with you. Are you absolutely sure this is all right?”

  “We’ve got to figure things out before summer, but for now it should be fine. My folks might have an issue with me shacking up with a woman my daughter hasn’t met yet, but Sam doesn’t move in for a few months. For right now, let’s take things day by day, at least for now. Sound like a plan?”

  “I like the sound of that,” Dorothy grinned. “Do you have a dryer?” she asked, looking at her soggy clothes strewn on the floor. “I really didn’t plan this very well.”

  Randy kissed her on the forehead and went to gather her damp things.

  “Yeah, I’ll toss them in. But you can’t wear the same thing every day. When you finish your breakfast, I’ll take you to pick up a few things.”

  “But I only have a couple hundred dollars to my name.”

  “Don’t worry, I know a guy, one of the collectors from the gallery. He’ll hook us up, and if for some reason we still go over, I’ll cover the difference and you can pay me back later. I think you’re good for it. Oh, he’s going to love you.”

  The afternoon sun arced high above the city as the pair entered a rather trendy-lo
oking shop.

  Fausto Designs in a stylish foil-embossed script greeted them from above the doorway as they entered the hip clothing store, conveniently just a few miles’ walk from Randy’s place.

  The store was owned and managed by Fausto Fornaciari, an Italian clothing designer who happened to run in Randy’s art-world circles. When Randy had called him asking for a favor, he was more than happy to help his nice young friend.

  “Oh, honey, just look at you,” the slight man with a huge presence commented as he gave Dorothy a once-over with a sympathetic gaze. “Oh, but these shoulders, these legs! You have excellent bone structure! Don’t you worry, we’ll fix you right up.” He cast a snarky glance at Randy.

  “Really, Randy?” he chided. “You take your lady out like this? I am horrified!” Randy blushed slightly and shrugged helplessly.

  He had provided some sweats and a shirt for Dorothy while her things were in the wash, but they were several sizes too big for her slender frame. It was the best he could do, given that she had quite literally nothing to wear other than the soaked clothes he had scooped from the floor where they’d fallen the night before.

  “Can you work your magic on her, Fausto?” he asked the gregarious little man.

  The Italian smiled. He had taken an immediate liking to the girl, and, deciding she was to be his project for the day, he led her to his fitting area.

  With a flip of the wrist, he pulled back a curtain, revealing three old Greek women at a sewing table. Their workspace bore a weathered little sign that read, “Moira’s Alterations.”

  The three women looked up from their work, genuine puzzlement forming on their faces almost simultaneously when they saw their unexpected guest.

  “Ladies, this is Dorothy,” Fausto said with a gleam in his eye. “She is a special client, and is in need of your talents!”

  Klotthie, the somewhat serious woman working a spindle, eyed Dorothy intensely, looking her up and down from toe to crown repeatedly. The poor woman seemed a little bit confused.

  “I don’t think we know you,” she muttered.

  “This is Dorothy,” Randy chimed in. “She hasn’t been in here before.”

  “No, we definitely don’t know you,” she confirmed, truly perplexed.

  “How can we not know her?” her sister, Atroppie, asked from her seat at the far end of their work station. “That cannot be.”

  “She’s new to town,” Randy replied.

  Lakhie, the more gentle-natured of the three sisters, approached Dorothy and looked her over carefully. Gently, she took the young woman’s face in her soft but weathered hands, examining her with her remarkably sharp eyes for an older woman.

  “Such a pretty girl,” she said, then turned from her and began looking through the myriad threads on her table. “You look cold. We have this beautiful thread. We could knit you a nice sweater.”

  “I’ll get my shears,” Atroppie offered with a grunt.

  “No! Not for this one,” Klotthie said, a surprising intensity coloring her voice. “Fausto, you still have the samples from Milano, yes?”

  “Of course.”

  “Good. She has the right frame for them. We will work from those. For now, anyway.”

  Lakhie took her by the hand. “Come, we will measure you,” she said, leading Dorothy off to be fitted. The three women were fussing over her like mother hens, but the sisters all seemed unsettled by her presence, Randy noted curiously.

  Fausto was back in a jiffy, carrying armloads of outfits to the odd seamstresses. His load delivered, he then joined Randy while the old women worked their magic.

  Fausto looked on approvingly as his obviously smitten friend watched the slender girl step from behind the curtain to show off the various outfits he had insisted she simply had to try on.

  Of course they look good, he thought with pride. Fausto had impeccable taste, after all, and with her lithe build, much of his sample stock was in the girl’s size, or close to it. Oh yes, he would make her look wonderful.

  It was indeed a productive visit, with several flattering outfits acquired. After several cheek kisses, they bade the gregarious Italian and his Greek associates farewell and headed back home to drop off their packages. They had acquired enough clothes to easily get her through the week, which wasn’t a bad start.

  “You look amazing. Simply amazing!” the Italian had said as they left his store. “You must come back next month. There will be some new arrivals that will look amazing on you. But your shoes. Oh honey, those will not do. Go and stop by Jovan’s on Sixth. He’ll take good care of you. Just tell him Fausto sent you.”

  As the pair strolled home, Randy noticed that every once in a while there would be a subtle shift in Dorothy’s mood. Despite the fantastic day they were having, she would suddenly become self-conscious, glancing around almost as if she expected something bad to happen.

  He wasn’t wrong. She was increasingly on-edge. Every time she would see a bearded man of a certain build and age, or if she happened to catch a glimpse of a large, bald man, she’d tense up a little.

  We’re miles away. They wouldn’t have come this far, would they?

  She was paranoid, but given her recent circumstances, Dorothy felt justified in her caution.

  She stopped suddenly as they passed a group of pedestrians. Without warning, she pushed Randy into a doorway, kissing him passionately, all the while keeping her back to the street. When the suited man with a beard walked by, she released her embrace.

  Randy enjoyed the unexpected show of affection, but he also noted that she had studied the man as he passed, then relaxed when she saw that whoever he was, it was not whom she’d thought.

  What’s going on with her? he wondered. For the time being, he decided to let it be and not pry. Besides, Randy was quite happy to be the victim of a kissing ambush, so he smiled and went with the moment.

  Little did either of them know, Doctor Vaughan and his minions were indeed out looking for Dorothy. Fortunately for the lovers, the searching eyes of Camview, while leaving no stone unturned, were currently combing the streets and alleyways miles away, far across town.

  They finally arrived back at Randy’s place in the early evening, arms loaded with the final items they’d picked up.

  Not having a car limited their outing somewhat, but Dorothy was grateful for it in a way. Randy had spent a lot on her, and even with his friend’s generous discount, she was acutely aware she had no means to repay him.

  Randy did it because he wanted to, and he truly seemed to take pleasure in helping her out, but it nevertheless made her a bit uncomfortable, being so dependent on another person.

  “Hey, give me a hand with this,” Randy called out from the bedroom.

  Dorothy walked to the bedroom, where she saw a sizable pile of clothing strewn on the bed. He was clearing out part of his closet for her.

  “Wait, you don’t have to do that.”

  “Can’t have your new things getting all wrinkly, now can we? Besides, you said you just busted out of jail.”

  “Mental hospital.”

  “Even more impressive! Point is, you’re staying with me for the time being, and I want you to feel comfortable here.”

  “I’m sorry, Randy,” she said, a note of guilt in her tone. “I really didn’t plan this out very well. I don’t mean to be a burden.”

  His eyes flashed briefly to a small picture of his folks with his daughter, but he shifted his attention back to Dorothy.

  We’ll have to figure that out before Sam comes. Plenty of time before that, though.

  “You’re no burden,” he said, then put down the parcels and replaced the clothes in his arms with the girl standing in front of him. “For the time being, mi casa, su casa.” He then proceeded to alleviate her concerns, one kiss at a time.

  CHAPTER 27

  They both rose early the next morning to the sound of Randy’s alarm clock. Though they’d have rather slept in, he had a meeting with a new client across town, and Gary was
sparing him the hell of multiple bus transfers at rush hour.

  At a quarter to nine, a full fifteen minutes early, there was a knock at the door.

  “Shit, he’s early,” Randy said as he trotted to the door.

  “Hey man, you ready to go?” Gary asked with a smile as he invited himself in.

  “Yeah, just give me a minute. You could have just called, you know.”

  “Well, I could have, but then I wouldn’t get to meet the new lady friend. Where is she?”

  Hastily dressed, Dorothy emerged from the bedroom. Gary beamed his widest smile.

  “You must be Dorothy! So glad to finally meet you. I’m Gary.”

  “Nice to meet you, Gary. Randy’s talked a lot about you, it’s nice to finally put a face to the name.”

  “All nice things, I hope.”

  “Mostly,” she chided. “So you two are heading all the way across town?”

  “Yeah. Don’t worry, I’ll bring him back in one piece.”

  Randy grabbed his friend and ushered him to the door.

  “Come on, enough of your banter. I’ll meet you downstairs in a minute.”

  Gary flashed a “nice going” look to his friend and stepped out.

  “Nice meeting you, Dorothy. I hope to see you again soon!” He turned and walked down the hallway, the echoes of his footsteps fading as he went.

  Randy turned back to Dorothy.

  “Okay, I’ll be back before dinner. You sure you’ll be all right?”

  “Yes, just go,” Dorothy chided. “I’ll be fine. I’ve got the key, don’t worry about me.”

  “All right, then. When I get back, we’ll grab something to eat. Any preferences?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe Chinese?”

  Randy smiled. “Cool. I know an awesome place. Okay, you’ve got a key and some cash, so I guess we’re good to go.” He leaned down and gave her a kiss.

  “Okay, see ya.”

  “Bye.”

  The door shut behind him, leaving Dorothy completely alone for the first time since her escape.

  She took a moment to just be, sitting on the couch, thinking about everything, but also about nothing at all.