Authors: Helen Downing
CHAPTER NINE
Joe walks by me just as I am
finishing up my “Welcome Home” spiel to now no one. “So I guess you caught me
talking to myself, again,” I say, embarrassed.
“Who, me? I don't know what you're
talking about,” he says, smiling at me devilishly. I start to walk, matching my
steps with his, and we begin an easy conversation. Well, at least to him it
probably seemed easy.
“So, what did you think of Deedy?”
I asked, not at all sounding like a teenage girl passing notes to her bestie
during math class. At least I hope I don’t.
“Amazingly cool man,” he says, his
respect evident.
“Was he wearing one of his designer
suits? Those suits make me drool. Literally. I have to ask Gabby for a tissue
before going into his office.” I try to sound casual and funny, like there
isn’t a giant boulder now forming in my throat.
“A suit? No. He was dressed very
casually actually, khaki pants and a polo shirt. I mean, it was a nice polo
shirt and pants. Of course, Kmart probably looks like Gucci to me after very
many years here. I asked him where he found his clothes, and I admitted to him,
practically a stranger that I was more than a little jealous, but he just
seemed to brush it off. He also seems to have a problem touching anybody. He
wouldn’t shake my hand. Is that weird? I thought it was kind of weird. Is it
weird that I’m gushing this much over another man?” Now he looks at me nervously.
Internally I breathe a sigh of
relief at the thought of something familiar regarding Deedy, and I laugh at
Joe. “Yep, that’s our Deedy. He can be a strange one at first, but don’t worry,
you’ll get used to it. You seem like a great guy,” and then I add quickly, “and
a very normal guy.”
“He reminds me of my grandfather.
Kindly old man with that Midwestern accent.”
Kindly old man? Midwestern accent?
What is Joe talking about? Then I start to smile a bit, because I realize that
Deedy is not appearing to Joe the same way he appears to me. “Yeah, a great
guy.” I repeat, trying not to let Joe know about the sudden tears welling up in
my eyes. I say simply, “That is very, very true.” I have to shake this off or
I’m going to melt down again and he will think I’m some kind of nut job.
“So, let’s talk about you!” I say,
surprised by my own bright, suddenly happy sounding voice. “Where are we
going?”
“Well,” he says, looking at me with
just a hint of suspicion. “I’m headed to a greasy spoon diner where I get to start
my glorious new career as a short order cook. Keep in mind that I have never
even boiled water, I don’t think, and I’m pretty sure I would remember if I had
ever made a gourmet meal or even anything other than a fucking sandwich in my
life. So this will be quite an adventure.” He’s laughing at himself now.
“Let me just say, it sounds to me
like you are absolutely perfect to be a cook in Hell. You did realize after all
this time that opposing skill sets are a plus down here, right?”
“Well, then you are absolutely
correct. I am going to be an amazing short order cook in Hell,” Joe replies
with a slight smile.
When we get to the diner, I shake
his hand and wish him luck, then walk on wondering if I should come back later
to check on him or go see Hank. I could go check with Gabby, of course, but
that means going back to that literally God forsaken office. Well, technically,
the office isn’t God forsaken. I am. I decide that before I go back I’ll do a
little sightseeing in the old neighborhood. Hell and Heaven occupy the same
space, so it is not like I never see any part of my old life in my new one. For
instance, I walk past IB&FW every day, but I haven’t seen my apartment in
years. Part of that is magic. Each residential side has their own limits to vision
that keep the other side blind. I have decided while I can now see all things
Hellcentric, I miss my Heaven eyes. I walk down the street and memories flood
over me. Even smells and sounds are crowding into my brain, each demanding
their own table front and center for the cabaret. When I get to my old
building, I back up and look into the window of my old apartment. It seems like
nothing has changed. Same gray walls, same colorless furniture barely able to
stand alone let alone offer comfort to anyone using it. I close my eyes and
imagine myself back there.
I think about the woman who used to
sit up there and dream and cry and suffer and remember. I think about the girl
who had resigned herself to this eternity, not daring to imagine another place,
a Heaven in which redemption and forgiveness could be a part of my future. And
then I think about Joe, who is at the beginning of his great final destiny. He
still has the further realizations about Deedy and Gabby and Paradise. And most
importantly, he still gets to find out about himself. That he is Forgiven. That
he is Loved.
In a lot of ways this part of our
personal eternal journey is the best. Because whether you’re in Heaven or in
Hell, it is what it is. There is no growth, or change or epiphanies about life.
Life is now over and all that’s left is consequence without action. Human
experience is now behind all of us until those of us who believe that we are
damned come into this time of transition. Then we get to grow more than
adolescence, motherhood, and middle age all put together. I feel another pang
of envy for Joe who is just starting, and another ache of homesickness for
Deedy’s love.
“Okay,” I say to myself as I get up
and walk purposefully back toward the agency, “I’m done being a fucking
whiner.” This little roll down memory lane has renewed my sensibilities. I can
see now that this is temporary and not about me. This is for Joe and Linda, and
I will be home soon. Now I have to hike up my big girl panties and get back to
work.
I begin walking more quickly. Now
without fear, but instead with a slight amusement.
When I was alive, I rarely even
thought about God. Oh, at various times in my past I said desperate prayers to
anyone up there who may be listening. Praying for stupid things like ‘Please
don’t let me pregnant’ or ‘Please let me pass that math test’ or ‘Please let me
stop puking and I swear I’ll never drink again’! And if anyone ever asked me if
‘do you believe in God’, of course my answer would be ‘Yes, definitely.’ But to
actually spend time thinking about the fact that there was a God, or building a
relationship with my creator? No.
Then for my first twenty odd years
in death, I was completely devoid of God’s presence, but I didn’t miss it
because I didn’t realize anything was missing. Now after just a very few years
of having a real one-on-one with the big guy, I’m rendered inconsolable because
I can’t see or feel him. Ain’t that a kick in the teeth!
I walk into the agency, and Gabby
looks at me with relief. “Lou! It’s good to see you. I thought for a minute or
two that you were avoiding me.”
“I was,” I say with total honesty.
I have found that to be the best tactic with her, since she could tell if I was
lying anyway. “But don’t take it personally. It was more about not being able
to see Deedy than seeing you, if you understand.”
“Of course, how are you making
out?”
“Good. Joe is at work, and I was
wondering if it is okay if I go hang with Hank for a while. What do you think?”
“I think that is a great idea,” she
says warmly. “If Joe should need you, I’ll get in touch.”
I pause before I go and after a
brief moment of hesitation I say, “So, I met a man.”
“What man?” she asks. Is that alarm
in her eyes?
“I don’t know his name. He wouldn’t
tell me. But he offered me a cigarette, and he was dressed impeccably, so I
assume he’s a Heaven resident. Right?”
“I guess. You didn’t take it,
right?” All of the sudden she’s turned into my big sister.
“Of course not. That really isn’t
the point.”
“Sorry, what is?”
“How can I see him?”
“I don’t know. I don’t know who he
is, and quite frankly I haven’t been paying that much attention to you, I’ve
been more centered on Joe.”
“Of course you have. Sorry,” I say
sheepishly. However, I can’t help but notice that her smile seems forced. I
think she’s lying to me. See? That is why I need some super powers. So that I
will know for a fact when I am getting snowed by an archangel.
“My only advice is to stop paying
attention to well-dressed cigarette pushers and keep your eye on your
assignment,” Gabby says jokingly.
“I will. I actually like Joe. He
seems very nice.” And I mean that. He really is a fabulous guy. “I will be here
tomorrow to take Joe to his new assignment. Can I get a hint as to what it is?”
I say with conspiracy in my voice.
“Actually, I think you’ll be taking
him to the same one. It doesn’t look like he’s getting fired today.”
“What? How does that happen?”
“Every journey is different, Lou.
Some people actually do know how to keep a job longer than a few hours.” Now
she’s smiling genuinely. Actually, now I’m being mocked by an archangel.
“You know, for a benevolent
heavenly being you sure know how to kick a girl when she’s down,” I say. I’m
teasing. Kind of.
“I am glad you’re enjoying the
assignment. And you seem to be doing well so far. Now go see Hank.” Gabby gives
me a big smile and sets me on my way.
On the way to Hank’s I feel a
little bewildered. What does Gabby know about the gorgeous stranger who
injected himself into my life today? And why wouldn’t she tell me about him, if
she does know something?
Oh, and don’t even get me started
on Joe keeping his job. I really am trying not to get a case of the ass over
that, but seriously? Do I hold some kind of record as the biggest fuck up ever
in the history of Second Chance Temp Agency?
Hell has a ton of torments, and there’s
a new one every day. But some never change. I feel as confused and alone as I
did when I first arrived here.
I’m looking forward to spending
time with Hank. Not just to help him understand, but perhaps to soak up a
little understanding for myself as well.
Hank was just as happy to see me as
he had been last night at his welcoming party.
“Lou! So happy you are here! Come
in. What can I get you?”
“You’ve already stocked up on
groceries?” I am surprised.
“The Loft came stocked! Even the
refrigerator was full. How’s that, me living in a loft. I feel all fancy and
big citified.” Hank’s enthusiasm is contagious.
“Did it come with soda?” I say.
“Yep. Crushed ice or cubed? Go
figure! Two kinds of ice!” Hank goes to the kitchen, guffawing over his ice
bounty. He brings me my soda, and we sit down.
“How was your day? Your new
assignment working out?” he asks. “Do you know when I’ll get an assignment? I
really feel like I should become a productive member of society. And with all
this new found energy I really want to be working. I imagine there is probably
some really great jobs up here. Will they give me choices or will they just
know what it is I’m supposed to do?”
I start to laugh. “Whoa! Slow down
there, Mr. French! There is plenty of time for you to think about what you want
to do up here. In fact, there is nothing but time. Or better said, there is no
such thing as time. Well, that’s not right either. I dunno. Eternity still
gives me a headache. And yes, thank you, my new assignment is great so far. But
I’m way more interested in you.” I say, “Tell me how it’s been since you got
here? I mean, aside from the burning desire to join the labor force.”
“It has been amazing. Getting to
see people that I have missed so much. It really is overwhelming. I just wish Linda
was here,” he says with a tinge of sadness.
“That’s what I want to talk to you
about,” I say, still processing hearing Linda’s name said out loud. “Do you
remember how you died?”
“Of course,” he answers. “That
would be a tough thing to forget.”
“So has anybody explained to you
how things work? Like how it is decided whether you go to Heaven or Hell?” I
ask him nervously.
“No. In fact, no one has mentioned
Hell. It’s like they’re afraid to say the word because they think I don’t know.
But of course I do. When I got here they showed me the remote viewing screens,
so I was aware that she was dead too. And when she wasn’t here, I assume she
was lost or she was going to Hell. I was told that she had died at the same
time and the same way I did. It really didn’t take a rocket scientist.” He
seems agitated.
“Well, I guess I am here to answer
any questions you may have,” I say with caution.
“Here’s what I wanna know. How does
she deserve eternal damnation for one act? Especially since I’ve already
forgiven her and I’m the one she murdered, right? Shouldn’t that count for
something?”
“Really?” I ask him. “You have
already forgiven her?”
“I’m pretty sure I forgave her the
second I realized what she was doing,” he says, laughing again like we were
back on the ice or the loft conversation.
I, on the other hand, start
blubbering almost immediately. “Hank.” Is all I can say. I sink back in my
chair as he continues.
“I have always known that Linda was
too good for me. She was a gift, something sent to me that I didn’t deserve.”
“I think you are selling yourself
short.” I choke on a small sob.
“Please. You of all people, Louise,
were standing in line to make sure I knew that.”
“Oh, Hank.” Now my tears are
falling freely.
“That toast at our rehearsal
dinner.” His voice is not accusing. It was just a statement.
“That toast was totally
inappropriate.” I am suddenly filled with regret.
“That toast was truth,” he says.
My head betrays me, and my brain
flees to the past to recall that horrible night one more time. That speech. That
drunken, stupid, arrogant speech.