Call Me Grim (26 page)

Sara narrows her eyes. “Maybe…vaguely,” she says.

“That was the night I was supposed to die. I was supposed to fall off the bridge when a train came, but instead the Grim Reaper in charge of my soul offered me an opportunity.”

“The Grim Reaper offered you an opportunity?” Sara tilts her head and I almost laugh. It was easy for her to believe in ghosts, but one mention of the Grim Reaper and she becomes an instant skeptic.

“Yes. She told me she could give me an extra week of life to try and prevent a family tragedy, if I agreed to take over for her as the next Grim Reaper. And I agreed.” Aaron glances toward the sliding glass door where I imagine he thinks I’m waiting. “It wasn’t long after I accepted the job that I learned what our family tragedy would be: your dad was marked to either commit suicide or murder. I wasn’t sure which, but after years of him drinking himself into a stupor and beating the spit out of Mom, I figured he’d kill her. He hadn’t touched you since he hit you that one time and I threatened to cut off his balls in his sleep if he did it again. But after I died or became a Reaper, I wouldn’t be there to protect either of you anymore. There’d be nothing I could do.”

Aaron pushes up from the floor and moves to the sofa. It squeaks softly as he settles in.

“The only thing I could think to do was to help him quit drinking. He was better when he wasn’t drinking. The next day was one of his more sober days and, by some miracle, I talked him into going cold turkey. He didn’t even get angry. He cried and apologized and promised to get help and get better.” Aaron chuckles humorlessly. “I thought I did it. I thought I’d fixed him. His mark looked better. It still covered most of his face, but it was smooth, like glass, and less angry.”

Sara gives him a confused look. Aaron doesn’t realize what he said makes no sense to her. He’s studying his clenched hands. It makes total sense to me, though. I shift my weight and look over my shoulder at the birds soaring over Jumpers’ Bridge. This story is becoming a little too familiar, and I suddenly don’t want to hear any more. But like a morbid spectator at a car wreck, I can’t walk away from the window.

“Then I made my biggest mistake,” Aaron continues. “I relaxed. The rest of that week I wasted time doing stupid stuff. I even took you to the carnival. Remember?”

Sara nods as tears drip from her chin and splash to her lap.

“Your dad stayed dry for six days. He took up drinking again that last night—right before my time was up and I had to take over as Grim Reaper.” Aaron’s hands curl into fists so tight his knuckles turn white. “When me and Margie walked in that night, the house smelled like a liquor store after an earthquake and it looked about the same. Mom was curled up on the floor, moaning and holding her stomach. Your dad was beside her, face down in a puddle of blood, with your snow globe still spinning next to his head. And you stood over him, shaking so hard I thought you might bite your tongue.”

Sara sniffs back a sob. “You see? I did it, Aaron. I killed him.”

“No. Be quiet, now. I’m not finished yet,” Aaron says and then he continues. “You told me you killed him and for the moment, I believed you. He certainly looked dead.” He shakes his head slowly. “I should have noticed his soul was still glowing and I didn’t have a headache, but I guess I was too shocked to realize that, at first.”

“Why was his soul glowing?” Sara asks. “And why would you have a headache?”

“Sorry.” He blinks. “I forgot you don’t know this stuff. The headache and glowing souls are part of being a Reaper.” Aaron goes on to briefly explain some of his powers. When Sara nods understanding, he continues with his story.

“Margie took you into the kitchen; I think to get you away from it all. That’s when Mom called me over. I thought she was whispering because she didn’t want you to hear, but now I know she was too weak to talk any louder. She made me swear to take his body to the bridge. She wanted it to look like a suicide. She didn’t want his death to come back on you.

“I promised her I would. But I couldn’t figure out how to move a man twice my size to Jumpers’ Bridge by myself. It took all of my strength just to heave him onto his back. And then I saw his face. The mark was still there, blacking out everything but his left eye.”

Aaron runs a hand down his face and sighs.

“It didn’t make any sense. He shouldn’t have been marked. He was dead and Mom was alive. Then my stupid brain caught on and I finally realized he was still glowing. And you weren’t marked. If you had killed your father, you would have been marked. Your dad was alive. I don’t know if he had passed out or was knocked out from the blow to his head, but he was alive.

“Now it was in my hands. I only had a few more hours before I would disappear forever. Mom was beaten up pretty badly, but she was alive. And I knew if he had a chance to recover, it wouldn’t be long before he killed her or you for hitting him with the snow globe. And I wouldn’t be there to stop him next time. So I threw a blanket over him, hoping it would hide his shallow breathing, and called Margie into the living room.

“I told her what Mom wanted me to do and she agreed to help me move him, for your sake. I mean, you were only nine years old—too young to be a murderer. I didn’t tell her he was alive. He was too heavy to move by myself and I was afraid she wouldn’t help me if she knew. I didn’t realize helping me would give her a mark too. I figured she’d have to know what she was doing, but I was wrong. I was wrong about a lot of things.”

Aaron chokes on the last sentence. He swallows hard and swipes at his eyes with the back of his hand.

“And I do remember telling you to tell the police it was me who killed him. It’s the truth, and they could never catch me. As a Reaper, I’m invisible. I just thought I’d try the suicide angle first, since it was what Mom wanted. Don’t feel guilty for doing what I told you to do, Sara. It’s what I wanted.”

“Margie’s father didn’t kill you because of me?” Sara’s voice shakes with uncertainty. “And you killed Dad?”

I glance over at Sara’s small form, perched on the armrest of the couch. I’ve been so focused on Aaron and his story, I almost forgot Sara. Her chin trembles and above her mark, her cheeks glisten with tears. I look back at Aaron to hear his answer, but my gaze snaps back to Sara.

I can see her chin and the tops of her cheeks. I couldn’t see anything but her eyes before. It’s working. Her mark is shrinking.

“Like I said, I’m not dead. And I didn’t want to kill anyone.” Aaron’s eyes scan over her face and a small smile turns the corners of his mouth. It’s a subtle smile, but it’s there. He sees the change in her mark too. “Actually, I almost didn’t do it. Margie helped me get him down the tracks to the bridge in a wheelbarrow. She helped me lift him up and position him over the safety railing, bent at his waist with his hands dangling over the river. Then I told her to go home. I could hoist him the rest of the way over without her help. I knew Charlotte would be there soon to collect his soul and after that, she’d make me a Reaper. I didn’t want Margie there for that.

“But after she was gone, I stood there and stared at his lifeless body. I couldn’t do it. He was still alive and I wasn’t a murderer. I thought that maybe there was still time to change his mark. Maybe I could go home and make Mom promise to leave him. Make her swear to it, like I swore to make his death look like a suicide.

“I even started to pull him back off the railing. But then my head exploded with the intense pain of an unscheduled death and I knew. Mom was dead. It took a few hours for her to die, but that bastard still killed her. I twisted my fists into the back of his shirt and, instead of yanking him back into the waiting wheelbarrow, I hoisted him up and shoved him over the railing.”

The room falls silent. The only sounds I hear are the tick of the clock on the wall and the hushed roar of Carroll Falls behind me.

“Why, Aaron?” Sara glares at him. I think it’s pretty obvious why Aaron killed his stepfather, and if I was in the room with them, I would say so. But when Sara continues talking, I’m glad I couldn’t say anything. “Why haven’t you told me any of this before now? You’ve let me believe I killed my father for forty years. Did it ever occur to you that I might want to know the truth?”

“I tried to tell you.” Aaron stands and walks over to her. “I left you letters, but they just looked like blank pages to you. I made origami and left them all around, but you thought you had made them. I moved things, took things that belonged to me and put them in conspicuous places. I tried to leave you clues, but nothing got through to you. If I took something, you’d forget you ever had it. If I moved something, you’d think you moved it yourself, even if you saw it flying through the air right in front of you. I even tried talking to you in your sleep. We had a long conversation that you promptly forgot as soon as you woke up. It’s the curse of a Reaper, Sara. I can’t communicate with you unless you’re a scheduled death and you’re about to die.”

“But you’re talking to me now,” Sara says, then her eyes widen and the mouth I couldn’t see moments ago goes slack. “Am I about to die?”

“Not anymore, I hope.” Aaron smiles. “I’m able to talk to you today because of that beautiful girl standing outside on the deck.” He nods in the direction of the sliding glass door. I can’t help but smile. He called me beautiful again. “Libbi is about to replace me as Carroll Falls’ newest Grim Reaper, and part of her training allows us to share powers, for learning purposes. But it goes both ways. I can also use her ability to communicate with the living.”

Aaron takes Sara’s face in his hands, like she’s still his nine-year-old baby sister, and plants a gentle kiss in the middle of her forehead.

“I love you, little sis. And I’m so proud of you. I’d hate to see your love, your talent, your life wasted for something you didn’t do.” He smoothes the hair from her eyes. “I decided to give up this job because it’s the only way I could tell you any of this. Please, Sara. I need to know it was worth it. I need to know you won’t kill yourself.”

“I won’t, Aaron. I promise.” Sara’s lips quiver, but her eyes are sincere. “What if I forget all of this as soon as you leave?”

“You won’t. Not if Libbi’s here,” Aaron takes her hand. “And if you’re afraid you’ll think it’s all a dream, I can write you a letter. Libbi’s ability covers all forms of communication. Plus, you’ll have the broken vase and the gun in the bush to remind you.”

A few minutes later, Aaron pulls back the blinds and lets me back in the house. I pretend I didn’t hear anything. The guilt I feel for betraying his trust and eavesdropping on such a personal conversation is enough of a punishment. There’s no way I’m admitting to it.

He spends a half-hour writing a letter for Sara. He doesn’t tell me what it says, but I know it’s the entire story, from his first encounter with Charlotte to me knocking on Sara’s door. When he’s done, he hands the pages over to her. She carefully tucks them in the front pocket of her flannel shirt and looks up.

“Thank you for doing this.” She snakes her arms around me and pulls me into a hug. “It means more than you will ever know.”

All that remains of her mark is a thin, black line across her top lip, like someone drew a mustache on her soul with a felt pen, but I have a feeling even that will be gone soon.

Sara grabs Aaron next, trapping him in the biggest bear hug I’ve seen a woman of her short stature accomplish. He holds her just as tightly and when he tells her good-bye he also assures her that, even though she won’t be able to see or hear him, he’ll be back later. She watches from her swirly front door as we silently walk down her long driveway.

“If you wanted to, you could have just stayed with her,” I say as I settle into my car seat, readjusting my butt to avoid the pinching split in the pleather. “I can get home by myself.”

“I know you can, but I couldn’t do that.” He slams the car door behind him. “I promised Max he could punch me in the gut if I didn’t bring you home, unharmed and before dark. What kind of a promise would it be if I wasn’t there for his inspection?”

I don’t say anything. I just press down on the gas pedal and head home.

We drive in silence.

I don’t know what Aaron’s thinking, but my mind has his story on repeat. As soon as I come to the grisly conclusion, my brain hits the back-track button and I go to the beginning: When Aaron met Charlotte.

When I met Aaron.

I can’t help but compare our stories. Aaron’s only reason for taking Charlotte’s job was for the chance to fix his stepfather’s mark. The only reason I agreed to take Aaron’s job was for the chance to heal Kyle’s mark. Aaron thought he had succeeded when he convinced his stepfather to quit drinking. I thought I had succeeded when I told Kyle I loved him. But Aaron failed. Does that mean I’ve failed too?

The streetlights flick on as I pull into the driveway next to Miss Lena’s car. There’s enough light to say it’s not dark, so Aaron’s safe from a Max-sized slug to the belly, but the sky above us is bruised purple.

“I guess we better get up there.” I nod to the house. “Max is probably lacing up his boxing gloves as we speak. Not that he’d be able to hurt you. If you know it’s coming, you can make his fist slide right through you.”

Aaron doesn’t respond. I turn the key and he gets out before the car shudders and dies. He meets me as I open my door.

“I’m surprised,” he says as we climb the brick steps to the porch.

“About what?” I turn and face him at the front door.

Aaron shrugs. Over his shoulder the horizon glows pink and orange. The light dances around his head, giving him a fiery halo.

“After we left Sara, I thought you’d start bugging me about my past again.”

“Oh, I-I understand,” I stammer. “I mean, if it’s too private, I don’t need to know.”

“Thanks,” he says, and the weight of guilt grows in my gut. He looks down and his bangs fall across his forehead. He swipes them to the side. “You must think I’m a terrible person now.”

“Why would I think that?” I say.

Aaron meets my eyes. “Because of what I did—”

“What you did is sacrifice your life for a chance to save your sister’s. You’re not a terrible person. You’re a hero.”