The Ups and Downs of Being Dead Read online

  “Like when I asked my husband if the pants I was wearing were too tight,” Maggie said. “If he lied, I knew it, and if he told the truth, my feelings were hurt.”

  “And if you don’t say anything,” Robert said, “You’re still in trouble!”

  Maggie chortled. “Of course!”

  The emptiness Robert had been experiencing eased up. A weight, like too many blankets piled on his body, dissipated, and he struck a more comfortable gait as he told Maggie about the first commercial his father taped for television.

  “He stood stiff as a board, reading the queue cards. The final card instructed him to turn and point a finger at the camera and say: ‘We have what you want’.” Robert shook his head. “He looked like an idiot.”

  Robert also confided that his mother had been a Givenchy groupie because he designed most of Audrey Hepburn’s outfits.

  “She made a big deal out of the fact that she and Hubert were born the same year, and they were both Pisces.”

  “I can see that you adored your mother,” Maggie said. “But you didn’t have a lot of respect for your father.”

  “He was a dolt,” Robert said. “He thought that crappy Bargain Barn was really something. And he was there all the time—even Sunday’s, doing paperwork. It was like he didn’t really love my mother or me. Like he was avoiding us.”

  “Do you suppose Robbie thought you didn’t love him because you spent so much time at Audrey’s?”

  Robert thought of a clever retort to that. How was I going to keep his mother in shoes if I hadn’t? But he didn’t say it. She probably wouldn’t think it was funny.

  “I had a lot of good reasons for wanting to make Audrey’s successful,” he told her. “My wife could have been a frustrated wannabe, just like my mother, but I made her a star. I showed those hicks in my hometown that there was a lot more to fashion than Bobby’s Bargain Barn. That would have made my mother happy. And I think my dad would have been proud of how much I accomplished.”

  “Or envious,” Maggie slipped in.

  “Yeah, maybe so,” Robert said, a defensive edge to his voice. “What’s wrong with doing better than he did?”

  “You still haven’t answered my question. Do you think Robbie felt neglected…ignored by his father?”

  “Come on,” Robert whined. “Why do you always assume I did something wrong?”

  The squeal of tires startled Robert. He wheeled around to see a huge Chevy Tahoe plow into the side of a sporty little car.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Robert and Maggie sprinted to the middle of the intersection where the Tahoe had come to a rest. The smaller car, a Mazda Miata, lay helplessly under the Tahoe’s huge tires as though the SUV had pounced on it.

  “Oh, my God!” Robert gasped.

  The traffic light changed. More tires squealed. Horns honked. Robert watched as other drivers, stunned at first, leaped from their cars and came running. A heavy-set woman dressed in hospital scrubs huffed toward the carnage from the bus shelter on the corner.

  The driver of the Tahoe staggered to the front of his car, drew up at the sight of the whole passenger side crushed under his wheels. He dashed around the back of the felled Miata to the driver’s window. His head reared back and he let out a moan that seemed almost too high-pitched for a man his size.

  Four different people jabbered frantically into their cell phones, all within clear sight of one another. The Tahoe driver attempted to open the driver’s door, and when it wouldn’t budge, he used both hands. Metal on metal screeched as he tugged.

  Another man ran back to his pickup truck and fished around in a toolbox in the truck bed. He sprinted to the wreckage with a crowbar. The heavy-set woman in scrubs wrapped a beefy hand around the Tahoe driver’s arm and eased him out of the way.

  “She never even stopped,” she told the Tahoe driver. “Ran right through the red light.”

  More on-lookers congregated around the accident, urging on the man with the crowbar, and probably giving silent thanks that the Miata driver hadn’t pulled out in front of their car.

  Robert watched in amazement as a woman with straight brown hair crawled out through the shattered windshield on the passenger side of the sports car. Everyone else was so preoccupied with getting the driver’s door open that they didn’t see the woman roll off the hood, and touch down on the asphalt. She wobbled slightly as she straightened, then touched her head and pressed lightly on her chest as though checking for injuries. She didn’t seem to have a scratch on her.

  “She’s dead, isn’t she,” Robert said to Maggie. He kept an eye on the windshield, waiting for the driver to come crawling out, too.

  “Oh, yeah,” Maggie said. “Crushed like a bug.”

  “Geez, Maggie—”

  Casting her arm out toward the wreck, she said, “Look at the tires on that hog. They’re right over the passenger seat. How much do you think that tank weighs? She never had a chance. Probably died of internal…”

  “Okay!” Robert snapped. “I get it.”

  A subdued cheer went out when the crowbar man got the driver’s door open; the car’s hinges barked. The heavy-set woman pushed to the front.

  “Out of the way, I’m a nurse,” she said as she reached into the car. She laid two fingers against the neck of a young woman pinned under the steering wheel.

  “I’ve got a pulse,” she called out.

  The dead woman tried to push past the huddle at the door, but her arms were useless. Raising her hand in front of her face, she examined her palm. Then she reached out to touch the heavy-set woman. She could not.

  Confusion and alarm took turns contorting her face. Then the dead woman drifted back to the passenger side of the car. She shoved her head back through the hole in the windshield, checking out her mangled remains. When she’d seen enough, she just sort of slumped onto the hood of the car.

  “This is where it gets interesting,” Maggie whispered. “Does she believe in the hereafter? Will she just – pffft – disappear? Or will she stay?”

  “Stay?” Robert remembered how quickly Amanda had disappeared when she was shot. He’d never considered that she had a choice.

  Maggie nodded. “Like the man we saw on the bus with his wife. He stuck around to be with her.”

  So, had Amanda vanished in hopes of catching up with Martin? Guilt dug into Robert. If he hadn’t made such a big deal about Martin not waiting around, Amanda might have stayed, too. Would she have wanted to see what life was like without her true love?

  In the distance, Robert heard the wail of a siren and within seconds, flashing red lights bounced off the windows of the buildings. Rescue workers came running; the young woman driver was wrestled from the wreckage. An oxygen mask was strapped to her face while another EMT strapped one of those neck collars on. All the while, the dead woman watched helplessly.

  When the injured woman was loaded into the back of the ambulance, the dead woman climbed in, too.

  “See?” Maggie said. “That woman has overridden the system. She’s not leaving, at least not until she sees if her friend pulls through. Or maybe she wants to wait so they can both cross over together.”

  “Why don’t you go ask her?”

  She ignored his sarcasm. “I don’t think so.”

  Maggie floated onto the roof of the ambulance and made herself comfortable. “I’d like to just observe her for a while.”

  At least Maggie’s new project would give Robert a reprieve from her scrutiny. He climbed on board.

  At the hospital, the dead woman trotted along behind the gurney as the EMTs wheeled the victim through sliding glass doors. But when the trauma doors beyond swung shut in front of the woman, she pulled up short. Rising on her toes, she glimpsed through a small window, then turned and scanned the hallway in both directions, perhaps hoping someone else would go in. No one did.

  She made eye contact with Robert for a split second, but he quickly turned to Maggie like he’d been caught spying.

  “She doesn’
t know she can pass through the doors,” he said quietly.

  Maggie nodded. “Stuck in living mode.”

  “Maybe you should tell her,” Robert suggested.

  Out of the corner of his eye, he watched the dead woman become more agitated as she paced outside the doors.

  Maggie said, “Why don’t you talk to her?”

  “Me!” Robert didn’t want to get caught up in all that emotion. And it wasn’t just the crying. Women looked to men for answers. They wanted words of comfort and assurance. They craved strength. Robert was no good at that.

  “For goodness sakes, Robert,” Maggie said. “You’re just going to show her how to get through the doors. How hard can that be?”

  Damn that Maggie. She’d goad him now until he did something. The woman didn’t take “no” for an answer. He bared his teeth at her and growled, then turned to the dead woman.

  “Ma’am?” he called, raising his arm and waving to get her attention.

  The woman turned to see who was behind her.

  “No,” Robert called. “You.” He was tempted to say “the dead one” but instead he said. “From the accident.”

  The dead woman’s eyes grew larger and she backed away.

  Maggie chuckled. “Great reaction. A ghost afraid of a ghost.”

  The reality of the situation seemed to sink in, and the dead woman gave them both an embarrassed grimace.

  Robert eased a little closer. “You don’t have to wait out here. I can show you how to get through the doors and you can see for yourself what’s going on in there.”

  The temporary distraction of seeing him and Maggie faded. The woman’s cheeks sagged like she was ready to pucker up and cry.

  “I mean,” Robert stammered as he waved limp hands at the woman, “if that’s what you want to do. It might be…unsettling in there.”

  Now the dead woman was drifting toward him. If he backed away, he’d never hear the end of it from Maggie. But if he let this woman get closer, she might try to collapse in his arms.

  “What’s your name?” he asked. Brilliant.

  The simple question stopped her; the lines of anguish in her face faded a bit.

  “Suzanne,” she said.

  She had that thin mousy hair that no amount of product could volumize. The dull brown fluff had a smattering of gray, so she obviously wasn’t coloring it. She wasn’t that well endowed, but by the narrow hips, Robert guessed she was probably a size eight.

  “I’m Robert. This is Maggie.”

  So far, so good. But now that the preliminaries were over, he wasn’t sure what to say. We saw you die in that car accident didn’t seem appropriate.

  “Why are you here?” she asked. She seemed genuinely confused, her eyes scanning his face for answers. Then her mouth flew open. “Dear God, you didn’t die in that accident, too?”

  “What? No!” Robert stammered. “I’ve been dead for a couple of weeks.”

  “And someone you know died in the crash?”

  Great. How was Robert going to explain that he and Maggie were observing her like a lab rat? He never should have spoken to Suzanne in the first place.

  But Maggie shuffled up closer, casual as you please, and said, “We were on the sidewalk when the accident occurred. We followed the ambulance, in case you needed help.”

  She made it sound so simple, so easy.

  The two women tilted their heads, gave each other Madonna smiles, and instantly bonded.

  Skirting around them, Robert walked toward the double doors. “Shall we?”

  The twists and furrows distorted Suzanne’s face again, making her look like a bad abstract painting. Her eyes were her only redeeming feature—not round but almond-shaped, just shy of looking Asian. Like Sophia Loren’s eyes.

  There were no tears pooling in those dark eyes, but her voice wavered. “I just want to know if she’s going to be all right.”

  “Of course you do,” Robert said, motioning for her to come closer. “It’s really very simple once you learn how. The trick is not to think about it.”

  He passed through the door, then turned and poked his head back out. “See?”

  Fighting her trepidation, Suzanne eased up to the door. “What if I get stuck?”

  “It’s not like that,” Robert assured her. “You’ll see.”

  With a determined set to her jaw, she charged forward, expecting some resistance. When there was none, she staggered momentarily on the other side to keep her footing.

  The noise in the room startled them both. Half a dozen medical personnel were chattering at once. Machines beeped and whooshed. A doctor called out for ten cc’s of something and a nurse bumped into another as she scurried to comply. It looked like one of those old Charlie Chaplin flicks where everything moved slightly faster.

  Now that Suzanne had gotten in, the chaos held her at bay.

  “Shall I have a look?” Robert asked.

  She gave him a grateful nod.

  Why had he offered that? If there were any exposed organs or protruding bones, he was going to lose it.

  He edged his way toward the examining table, concentrating on the medical staff rather than the injured woman. One of the doctors working on the woman’s leg reported that her tibia had completely separated from her kneecap. A different doctor confirmed that her arm was broken. A gaggle of staff huddled at the woman’s head. She was unconscious, so there was talk of head trauma, worry that swelling was already taking place. A CAT scan was needed.

  Suzanne slipped up next to Robert. She stared at the woman on the table.

  “A friend?” Robert asked.

  “My daughter.”

  “I’m sorry.” The comment sounded lame the moment Robert said it. “They’re doing everything they can.” More lame blathering.

  Wheels were unlocked, and the gurney was whisked out the doors. Robert and Suzanne jogged to keep up. At least she wasn’t crying hysterically. Either the shock hadn’t worn off yet, or she was holding her fear at bay so she could follow what was happening.

  It didn’t take long for the doctors to assess the damage with an MRI. The daughter was back on a gurney and rolling to surgery.

  That was when Robert skidded to a halt.

  “I think I’ll pass,” he said. “But you can go on in.” He waved an arm toward the surgical suite.

  Suzanne stared at the door for a moment, probably envisioning bloody incisions and exposed brain.

  “I’m not sure I want to watch the surgery,” Suzanne told Maggie. As if Robert had told her she had to.

  Maggie gave her that sweet, little-old-lady smile. If she could, she would have patted Suzanne’s hand. “I’m sure you don’t. But consider this. If your daughter dies in there, she’s going to come out of her body just like you did. She’s going to see the surgeons and nurses, but no one she knows.”

  A moan erupted, and Suzanne shifted fearful eyes to the surgical doors.

  “I’m not saying we have to watch,” Maggie said, her voice a soothing balm, “but perhaps we should be there, just in case.”

  Grateful for some direction, Suzanne nodded and followed Maggie into the surgical suite. Robert decided he had nothing better to do and joined them.

  They hadn’t even gotten settled in a corner of the room before Maggie started in with the twenty questions.

  “I gathered from the conversations at the scene that your daughter ran a red light. What happened?”

  The woman had no tact. Robert expected a chilly stare from Suzanne in response, but she was eager to spill her guts.

  “It was all my fault,” she insisted. “I was arguing with my daughter, Angie, and she got distracted.”

  “What were you arguing about?” Maggie asked.

  “Geez, Maggie,” Robert interrupted, giving Suzanne a moment to regroup before she told Maggie it was none of her business.

  But Suzanne rattled on like she was talking to her best friend.

  “Angie is a consultant with an auditing firm. She came to St. Louis
about three months ago on an assignment at a stock brokerage firm,” Suzanne said. “She met Mark at the company and they’ve been seeing each other ever since.” She shook her head. “I’ve never seen her so smitten. From the moment I got off the plane, all she could talk about was Mark, Mark, Mark.”

  Maggie egged her on. “But you have misgivings about this relationship.”

  “Yes,” Suzanne said.

  She leaned closer to Maggie, like she didn’t want the doctors and nurses to overhear. Or maybe she didn’t want Robert listening to her complaints.

  “The three of us went to dinner last night,” Suzanne told Maggie. “It was awful. He was trying so hard to be charming, it was creepy.”

  Charming was creepy? Maybe Suzanne got a little bump on the noggin, too.

  “How do you mean?” Maggie probed.

  “I don’t know, just insincere. Like he was saying what he thought I wanted to hear. And flattering Angie way too much. She knows she’s not a ravishing beauty. So when Mark says things, like what a knock-out she is, it throws her off. She doesn’t know how to react.”

  She looked to Robert for understanding, but he didn’t get it. He thought women always liked being flattered. With a slight shake of her head, she swung back to address Maggie.

  “I should have known better than to criticize Mark like that, but Angie was falling so hard, so fast. I just wanted her to slow down a little.” Suzanne’s voice cracked. “Angie was so busy arguing with me that she never saw the light change.”

  Twisting her head slightly, Suzanne tried to get a glimpse of what was happening under the surgical lights without seeing anything.

  “And now she’s fighting for her life because I couldn’t keep from meddling.”

  Ever the professional, Maggie steered Suzanne away from one torturous subject to another. “Did she have boyfriends in high school?”

  “Not really,” Suzanne said. “She was so shy. And smart. Not a good combination in high school. But she did go to the prom.” She raised her head and gazed off at some memory beyond the walls. “She looked like a princess in her gown.”