The Ups and Downs of Being Dead Page 14

  “They could be lonely. Or scared,” he said.

  “Or they just might need someone to ask a question. Or tell a silly joke.”

  Then Stan did the same thing she did: he stared at the church and all the cars in the parking lot and out at the cemetery.

  He gave Maggie a wane smile and thanked her before turning to walk away. He disappeared before he even got to the rickety fence surrounding the headstones.

  “Holy smokes!” Robert said. “Did you know that would happen?”

  She seemed just as startled. “I thought we’d see some bright light or something.”

  “Angels plucking harps.”

  She chuckled. “Or at least he’d have to click his heels three times.”

  Robert nodded, still staring at the place where Stan had vanished. “So, he made a decision to crossover, and bingo, he’s gone.”

  “Looks that way.”

  “Do you really think there are children out there, all alone?”

  “I don’t know why not,” Maggie said. “They die. What makes them different from us?”

  He hoped she was right, for Stan’s sake. Maggie had just sent the man off to the abyss.

  “So now what?” Robert asked.

  “I’ve got to get back to the center. Asa’s been on his own for two days now.”

  Robert groaned. “I guess that means three more hours in a truck cab listening to country music.”

  “Actually, I thought I’d just blink myself back.”

  A caustic laugh erupted as Robert considered his dilemma. “And hang out with Asa. How many days until the meeting in New York?”

  “Eight.”

  “Oh, no.” Robert gave his head a hard shake. “I can’t handle eight more days of Asa. Maybe I’ll go on ahead to New York and meet you there.”

  “What an excellent idea!” Maggie even fake clapped her hands. “Why don’t you stop back at the hospital first and see if Suzanne’s gotten tired of her family yet.”

  “I’d rather not. She’s probably still chastising herself for being wrong about her daughter’s boyfriend.”

  “So? Maybe you can cheer her up.”

  “That’s not likely,” he said. “I’m not good at conversations like that.”

  “You don’t have any problems talking to me.”

  Robert chortled and rolled his eyes.

  “Oh, what?” Maggie said. “It’s easy to talk to an old bag?”

  “You said it, not me.”

  She rose up on her toes to get closer to his face. “I got news for you. You’ve got seventy-five years of waiting around to come back. And you’re not going to be sweeping any ladies off their feet with your money or your good looks. You better get good at conversation.”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Angie was no longer in the ICU, but it didn’t take Robert long to find the room where she’d been moved. There were flowers in every available space on the window ledge and bedside table. Mark sat perched on the edge of her bed, discussing a newspaper article about a bank merger with Angie’s grandfather. It looked like Angie had dozed off, and the grandmother, reclined back in one of the two chairs in the room, wasn’t far behind.

  At first, Robert thought Suzanne was gone, but then he spotted her slumped in the corner near the bathroom door. He took a couple steps closer.

  “Hey,” he said softly, like he might wake Angie. “How you doing?”

  Suzanne looked up, that sorrowful expression distorting her face again.

  “I’m stuck.”

  His right eyebrow cocked up. He reached out a hand, knowing he couldn’t help her to her feet, but thought it might get her moving in the right direction.

  “No. I mean I’m stuck here.” She rose to her feet. “I got so sick of my parents fawning all over Mark, and Mark fawning over Angie, that I decided to just give it up. You know, do that crossover thing. But it didn’t work.”

  “Really. I just saw a guy do it yesterday. I’m not sure what he did, but once he decided to leave, it happened pretty fast. He just pffft, disappeared.”

  “Well, I’ve been trying, but so far, no pffft.”

  “Let me see.”

  Now she cocked her eyebrow. But then she squared her shoulders, planted her feet apart, and even closed her eyes. Nothing. She sort of peeked one eye back open.

  “See?”

  “Are you sure you’re trying?”

  Her eyes bugged out, her nostrils flared. “Yes, I’m sure. I even went to my funeral yesterday. I thought maybe it would happen there.”

  “Like some angels might be waiting for you?”

  She giggled, and the musical way her voice sort of rose up and back down made Robert smile.

  “No. But I thought maybe my husband Phil would be waiting for me.” She twisted her mouth in a melancholy frown.

  “When they were freezing my body, I thought I was going to stay right in there and sleep until they brought me back. I even tried to get in, but I couldn’t.”

  “So, what do you think is wrong?” she asked.

  “Beats me. Maybe there’s still something you have to do for Angie.”

  Suzanne shook her head.

  “There’s no way she’s walking away from Mark. And I can’t stand to be around him for another minute.”

  As if to prove her point, Mark grasped Angie’s limp hand between both of his and rubbed until her eyes fluttered open. Then he smiled and leaned to kiss her forehead.

  “See?” Suzanne said. “She was sound asleep. But he can’t stand blathering without an audience, so he woke her up!”

  She stomped out of the room.

  Following her, Robert asked, “Why didn’t you go somewhere else?”

  “Maggie said she’d be back, and I didn’t want to leave without saying goodbye.”

  “Ah, well she’s at the Cryonics Center. You can go over there and hang out with her. At least for the next eight days.”

  He explained about the temps meeting in New York. And because he didn’t want to discourage her, he left out the part about Asa being at the center, too.

  “What are you going to do?” she asked.

  “I’m heading up to New York.”

  “Now?”

  Her eyes lit up like a game show contestant who’d just picked the right door. Frantically, Robert searched for the most boring reason he could think of for going to the city.

  “Yeah, well, I used to do some business in New York. I thought I’d drop in on some clients.”

  She wasn’t buying it.

  “I’ve never been to New York,” she said, her eyes all dreamy and hopeful.

  Dang that Maggie! He never should have listened to her about checking up on Suzanne. How was he going to get out of inviting her to come along? And her motor was already running with the prospect.

  “Have you been to the Statue of Liberty?” she asked.

  “No.”

  “The Empire State Building?”

  He shook his head.

  “The World Trade Memorial?”

  Dear God, how could he admit he hadn’t taken the time to check that out?

  “Look, I was usually there on business,” he said. “I’ve been to Central Park and Times Square. And that’s because we did some advertising shoots there.”

  “So really,” she said, “you’ve never been to New York either. Just office buildings.”

  “I wouldn’t say that.”

  “Come on, Robert. Let’s go explore New York.”

  He was tempted to suggest she wait until she was invited, but realized how stuffy that sounded. After all, she was free to go wherever she wanted. He’d figure out some way to ditch her once they got there.

  * * *

  “I haven’t traveled much,” Suzanne confided as she settled in next to Robert in first class. “Motion sickness. My whole life. When I flew here to visit Angie, I had to take two Dramamine tablets just to get through the take-off.”

  “Well, you’ve got nothing to worry about now,” Robert said
. “You’re stomach won’t do flip-flops anymore.”

  The flight attendant began her demonstration on the proper use of oxygen masks.

  Suzanne giggled. “You know, I’m one of those who followed along. I even pulled out the card so I could look at the illustrations.”

  Robert was already regretting his decision to let Suzanne tag along. This whole trip to New York was going to be one country-bumpkin episode after another. At least no one else would see Suzanne craning her neck to check out the skyscrapers, or fawning over the horse-drawn carriages at Central Park.

  As the plane backed out of the gate, he wandered into the aisle to see who might be reading something interesting. Suzanne followed him.

  He huffed a sigh as he looked over his shoulder at her. “This is probably a three-hour flight. You might want to find someone with headphones so you can listen to music, or watch whatever’s on the viewing screen.”

  Taking his suggestion, she scanned all the passengers in first class, but most of them were businessmen scrambling to finish up something on their laptop before they were told to stow them away for take-off.

  She even glanced forward to the flight attendants, bustling about in the tiny galley. Was she thinking of helping serve refreshments?

  Her eyes were wide when she looked up at him. “Have you ever been in the cockpit?”

  “No,” he said. “The door is always locked.”

  “Well, yeah,” she said. “But so what?”

  He stared down the long aisle to the back of the plane, at all the potential passengers reading magazines and newspapers. Then he snuck a look over his shoulder at Suzanne.

  “Come on!” she said, “Let’s go watch the take-off.”

  Unlike Maggie, she actually waited for him to approve the idea before she trotted to the small cabin door and passed through.

  Inside the small cockpit, Robert was dumbstruck by all the instruments: dials, switches, buttons, blinking lights, levers.

  “What could all this possibly be for?” he asked.

  “Who knows,” Suzanne said as she scanned gauges. “I think this one shows how much waste is building up in the number four bathroom.”

  She scooted up right next to the pilot as the plane taxied slowly along the tarmac. And when the plane turned for take-off, she laid her hand right on top of his on the throttle.

  “Hey,” Robert said. “Don’t be goofing around.”

  He got an exaggerated eye roll. Then Suzanne hunched down so her head was level with the pilot. As the plane roared down the runway, she squealed. And when the wheels came off the ground, she actually hooted like some fanatic football fan.

  The plane steadily climbed, and Robert had to admit that the view from the front was much more exhilarating than wrenching his neck to the side to peer out a tiny window.

  Once the plane leveled out, Suzanne stood and threw her head back, shaking her hair a bit.

  “That was fantastic!” she said in a breathy pant.

  Good Lord, she made it sound like a sexual experience.

  When she glanced over at Robert, her eyes sparkled. Maybe she had gotten a thrill.

  She crawled onto the instrument panel with her face right up against the glass, so she had a panoramic view. The grin on her face was such a contrast to the grief he had seen her going through for the past few days that he found himself smiling. And he pushed his face against the glass, too.

  “Maybe we’ll see a riverboat,” she said as the plane crossed over the Missouri River. “Or a big barge with cargo.”

  She scooted even closer to the glass. Without realizing it, she pushed her face through.

  Robert freaked. “Are you kidding me?”

  She jerked her head back and looked at him, her mouth gaping, her eyes bulging.

  “That was incredible!”

  “Well, don’t do it again,” he said.

  “No, no,” she insisted. “It’s fine. You can’t even feel the wind blowing. You’re just floating in space.”

  This time, she pushed her whole head out.

  He watched as she rotated her head all around, looking in every direction. And she was right. Not a hair on her head moved.

  Tentatively, she eased her shoulders out, then pulled an arm through. She turned and waved at him, then beckoned him to join her.

  Dear God, how did he get himself into these predicaments? Pressing his nose close, he moved through the windshield to his cheeks. Then, holding very still, he swiveled his eyes side to side.

  Suzanne was right. He didn’t feel the wind at all. Stretching his neck, he pushed his head all the way out.

  He recalled the scene in the movie Titanic, when Kate Winslet stood on the bow of the ship, and how corny he thought it was. But damn, if he didn’t feel like he was gliding through space. The only thing missing was the rush of wind on his cheeks. Of course, at the speed they were traveling, his cheeks would probably get ripped right off his face.

  The noise from the engines was too loud to carry on a conversation with Suzanne, but he gave her a thumbs-up. Naturally, she couldn’t leave well enough alone. She acted like she was wriggling her torso out of the glass, then when she got to her waist, she pretended to press hard against the windshield, like she was stuck. Gritting her teeth, she heaved her legs up and out of the window. Once she was completely outside the plane, she perched on the nose.

  “Oh, no,” Robert mumbled as he waved his hands. “I’m not going any farther.”

  Thank God she didn’t insist. He wasn’t willing to gamble with incontinence.

  As they flew above the cloud line, heading east, the day faded. Robert couldn’t recall the last time he’d remained totally still like that, with nothing to do but watch the color blue gradually transform from azure to indigo.

  At one point, he tensed, as though all the muscles in his body had locked up in panic. A feeling of urgency washed over him; someplace he needed to be or something he had to do. It was as though time had wrapped its fingers around his neck. Get busy! Do something!

  But he’d been cut loose. He was no longer tethered to his business or his family. The world was revolving without him, and it would for a very long time. Settling back against the glass, he watched the indigo ease imperceptibly to black.

  Once it was dark, he ducked back inside the cockpit.

  Suzanne sat on the top edge of the pilot’s control panel with her legs dangling outside the windshield so she still had a ringside seat in case she saw anything. Her toes swished from side to side with anticipation, like a child enjoying something for the first time.

  “So, what did your husband do, for a living?” Robert asked.

  “He was a contractor. Built houses. Sometimes did big remodeling jobs.”

  “I guess he built your home, too.”

  “Five homes,” she said. “He’d build one and we’ve live in it for a few years, and then he’d want to try something new. More modern, with the latest updates. Solar panels, heated floors, you know.”

  Robert nodded. Then he decided to get nosy, like Maggie always did.

  “How did he die?”

  “It was pretty awful,” she said. “He was cleaning our gutters and slipped on some wet leaves.”

  “He fell off the roof?”

  Suzanne nodded.

  “Geez! Did you see him fall?”

  “No. I was working in the front yard. Phil was on the back of the roof. The house was built into the side of a hill, so it was three stories high, where he fell.”

  “God, what a way to go.”

  She leaned her forehead against the glass of the windshield.

  “I blamed myself for a long time. If I’d found him sooner, he might have lived.”

  She stared out into the darkness, like she was living it all again. Robert didn’t know what to say. ‘I’m sorry’ didn’t seem to cut it, so he racked his brain for something more meaningful. In the end, though, that’s all he could come up with.

  “I’m sorry.”

  Slowly
, she shook her head.

  “He never yelled or screamed. He just fell. I came around the house with a wheelbarrow of compost and he was—” She gestured with her arm. “—lying on the ground.”

  She studied her hands for a moment, and Robert wondered if she might start crying. But she didn’t. She raised her head and stared back out the window.

  It dawned on Robert that she didn’t expect him to offer cosmic words of wisdom. She just wanted someone to listen to her story, and maybe understand how she felt.

  “The doctor assured me he died instantly, that he never felt a thing, but I never believed him. Not until I was in the accident. I saw that huge car coming right at me, but I never felt a thing when it plowed over Angie’s car. I don’t even remember the impact. So maybe Phil didn’t suffer.”

  Pulling her head away from the glass, she turned toward Robert.

  “And now Angie’s doing the same thing,” she said. “Blaming herself for my death. Wondering if I suffered.”

  “I don’t think we can help doing that,” Robert said. “When I saw Amanda get shot, I thought maybe it was my fault.”

  Suzanne did one of those nodding things, where her whole body rocked, not just her head. Then she shook off her sadness.

  “I saw your daughter on the news. She looks like she’s about Angie’s age.”

  “Rachel. She’s twenty-four.”

  Normally, Robert would have left it at that, or boasted about how business-savvy Rachel was; what an asset she was to the Audrey’s Corporation. But somehow those descriptions of his daughter sounded like blather now. They were facts about Rachel, but they didn’t really give a true picture of her.

  “She’s so talented,” Robert said. “She has this kind of sixth sense about colors and fabric combinations that most people don’t have.”

  “You sound very proud of her.”

  “I am.”

  “And does she have a boyfriend?”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  The sliding glass doors at LaGuardia Airport whooshed open. Robert and Suzanne tagged along behind a huddle of passengers leaving the terminal. Outside, a recent snow had turned to slush. Tires of rushing cars threw showers of dirty water onto the windshields of cabs waiting for fares.