The End or Something Like That (7 page)

Some people should never die. They should wear bikinis and tell their chubby friends that they're pretty.

They should go on dates and eat strawberries and get into college. They should become doctors and write books and go on
The Bachelor
, which is a really good show. They should get married and have babies and laugh. All day long.

Kim could laugh all day long.

•

Kim was serious about Dr. Ted Farnsworth though, and when Kim was serious, it was hard to stop her.

It was in a few months but she was planning everything. Everything.

She rifled through my closet. “What do you wear to dead people visitation conventions?” she asked. She held up a silk blouse my mom had gotten me from Spain that was three sizes too big. “This?”

“We don't have to decide right now, do we?”

She pulled out another one. “You should wear this.”

The shirt was one of my favorites from H&M. It was loose and had ruffles down the front and blue flowers that matched my eyes. The best part of me.

I wore the shirt on special occasions like talent shows.

“I'm not wearing that,” I said.

“Why not?”

“Because I'm not going,” I said. “I'm really not going. I hate the strip.”

And this was true. I hated hated hated going to the strip. We never went anyway but the few times I did, I felt grimy and gross.

She put the shirt on the bed. “You're going,” she said, not looking at me. “Besides, it's at Circus Circus. Not the strip.”

“Circus Circus is on the strip.”

“The old part of the strip,” she said, which was not a good point. The old part was just as bad as the new part. Worse.

My stomach started to ache. She turned back to the closet. “I want to pick out what we would wear in case we do go. I think we should be prepared,” she said.

I watched Mickey Mouse's face on the back of her T-shirt.

It was November. The presentation was in February. Why was she so determined?

“It costs a lot,” I said.

“I'll pay for it.”

“You don't have any money.”

“I'll figure it out.”

I sat as she pulled out three more shirts.

•

We didn't talk about it after that and I hoped she'd forgotten. Or decided it was a dumb idea.

But then one day she called me and said it's all set up.

“What's all set up?”

“Dr. Ted Farnsworth convention on Saturday.”

“Saturday? Is it this Saturday?”

“Yes, Emmy. I wrote it on your calendar.”

I looked. February 12th, Dr. Ted Farnsworth.

Crap.

“We aren't really doing that are we?”

“Yes. We are.”

I did not want to go. I did not want to go.

“How are we getting there?” I said.

Circus Circus was at least thirty minutes away.

“I got Perry to say he would take us,” she said.

“Perry?”

Perry lived in Kim's crappy apartment complex. He was a senior at Cimarron, and he had his front tooth knocked out in a fight.

“You asked Perry?”

“He said it would be fine.”

“Of course he said it would be fine, Kim. He loves you.”

She laughed. “Whatever. We'll pick you up at nine. He said he'd take us right up to the door so you don't have to walk around on the strip.”

I tried to think. Think. She had asked Perry to take us. He was going to take us right up to the door. She wasn't joking.

I took a breath. Then I asked, “Is Gabby going?”

She paused for a second and my heart sank.

Then she said, “Why would Gabby go?”

Relief poured through my body.

“I don't know,” I said. “I just thought, you know. You might want Gabby to go.”

“I don't want her to go, Emmy. I want you to go.”

I stared at the poster of cats on my wall. She wanted me. Everything was confusing and messed up and I sat there.

“Will you go?” she said. “It'll be funny.”

I tried to figure out if this was the right thing to do.

“Are you telling your mom?” I asked.

“Are you kidding? No way. And you can't tell yours.”

“What am I supposed to say?”

“Tell her we're going to the library.”

“Okay,” I said.

She breathed into the phone and then she said, “Thank you, Emmers. Thank you so much.”

One time, in a documentary, a lady talked about how peaceful it was to die.

She was surrounded by love and safety. Almost like a baby in the womb.

“Do you believe that?” Kim said.

“I don't know,” I said.

•

My mom is an atheist. She thinks that when you die, you go to the ground and become part of the earth.

“It's actually quite beautiful,” Mom said once.

Joe said, “You think it's beautiful to turn into dirt?”

She threw a piece of popcorn at him.

My dad, I don't know what he believes. His parents died in a car crash on their way to buy milk. Dad was eighteen.

He never talks about it.

Mom's parents weren't dead.

They lived in Phoenix in a condo development with other old people and golfed four times a week.

•

I stared in my bedroom mirror and tried not to care.

Not care about any of it.

About my boring brown hair

About my freckle face.

About my fat.

•

Who cares.

Who cares.

Who cares.

I was the type of person who should die. Not someone like Kim.

Sometimes, when you go home from a funeral of a dead science teacher and she made you tell her life story, it makes you exhausted. My bones ached and it felt like I hadn't slept in days.

I walked in the dark, the streetlamps still off, and as I got near my house, I heard something.

It was far away, and faint.

Like humming.

The houses on the street were mostly dark. Pushed together in a row, like LEGOS.

As I got closer, it got louder.

Someone was singing a song.

Low. Quiet.

Two houses away from mine I recognized it. “We Are Young” by Fun.

My heart pounded. On the rare times we were at Kim's apartment, we had a tradition where we'd scream that song. Jump on her bed and hit the ceiling with our fists and Trish would always, always, without fail come yell at us.

We'd stop and Kim would say, “Sorry, Mom.”

And I'd say, “Sorry, Trish.”

She'd say, “My hell.”

Then she'd turn and slam the door.

We'd wait three minutes. Three minutes on Kim's Hello Kitty clock, then we'd turn it back on again. Louder.

Right then, though, in the darkness, the song was melodic. Not loud. Not screaming. It was soft and floating. A female's voice.

My heart thumped.

I stopped walking.

“Kim,” I whispered.

The palms on the trees swayed in the wind, bringing the sounds loud and then soft like the ocean. It made it difficult to tell where it was coming from.

“Kim?” I said a little louder.

I turned around. Houses. Astroturf. A piece of paper dancing along the road.

I looked for a light from the sky. Or a feeling. Dr. Ted Farnsworth said it could be a feeling at first and then get stronger.

But there was nothing. Chills ran up my back.

I started walking again and the song got louder.

When I was in front of my house, it was distinct.

Tonight. We are young. So let's set the world on fire.

My heart pounded harder now.

I looked across the road and she was sitting there. On the curb. She was sitting there hunched over.

Singing Fun.

Ms. Dead Homeyer. Again.

In person, Dr. Ted Farnsworth was slimmer but much older than his picture. He had sweaty armpits, and when he spoke, he smacked his lips. Loud echoing smacks that reverberated in the stale conference room at Circus Circus.

Perry and Kim had shown up right on time, and Mom said, “Who is that with Kim?”

I grabbed my bag and started for the door. “Emmy. Who is that?”

“It's her neighbor. We're going to the library.”

Then I ran out before she could say anything. I knew she'd be worried about Perry because his goatee was disgusting and he had a tattoo of a dragon on his neck. She also didn't approve of large trucks.

When I got in Perry said, “Hi, Emmy.”

And I said, “Hi, Perry.”

And Kim said, “I'm excited.”

Her hair wasn't in a ponytail and she'd put on mascara. “I think it's going to be so cool,” she said.

I nodded. “Yeah. It should be cool.”

Perry said, “What is it you're going to again?”

Kim put her finger in his ear and he swerved.

“What the crap, Kim.”

She laughed and turned up the music and soon we were at Circus Circus.

There are many casinos in Las Vegas. Some of them are glittering and gold and have long stretch limos in the front. Some of them have magical fountains and tigers with ladies in Princess Leia costumes. And some of them are Circus Circus.

We walked through the hallways. I'd been here once to a birthday party when I was nine. It was dark and heavy and screaming from the rides and the carnival area where the girl had had her birthday cake and it felt like a cave with old people trying to get us to give them money so we could throw beanbags at milk cans.

“I wonder why he's having his seminar here,” I said.

Kim was walking fast. Her bag bouncing on her back as she went. I almost had to run to catch up. “What?”

“Why is it here?” I said again. “If Dr. Ted Farnsworth is such a big deal, if he's famous and important and people from all over the world come to see him, why would he rent a room in the back of Circus Circus?”

Why is it here?

Kim had a map of the casino in her hand and she said, “This place is a maze. I can't find Meeting Room A,” ignoring my question.

The whole place felt stale.

It took us five more minutes and three workers' instructions to finally get there.

There was a big sign with the same picture from his bio.

WELCOME, BELIEVERS!

TALKING
BEYOND

BY DR. TED FAR
NSWORTH!!!

WORLD CLASS
MEDIUM AND MENTOR

“This is it,” she said. “This is it!” And she walked right in like we belonged in a place like Meeting Room A.

I stood in the hall and watched her go inside. We had done so many things together and I always trusted her. I always trusted her that it would turn out okay.

But this time it felt different.

I stood in the hall and she came back out, “Come on,” she whispered. “It's starting.”

I took a breath and followed her in.

•

Kim and I sat in the back, and Meeting Room A of Circus Circus was full of almost-dead people. Oxygen machines. Walkers. Somebody with a helmet on which I didn't know what that meant.

Kim handed me a notebook.

“What's this?” I said.

“Paper.”

“Why?”

“So we can take notes, duh.”

She had a purple pen for me and a turquoise one for her. She also gave me a water bottle. She was prepared.

A lady with blue hair turned around and smiled at us. We smiled back.

Then the lights went out and some tiny stars appeared. Like we were at a laser show.

“WELCOME,” a voice said from the speakers in the back of the room. “WELCOME, BROTHERS AND SISTERS.”

Some strange music started playing.

“What is happening,” I whispered.

“Shhhhh.”

Soon the music was replaced with ”Forever Young.”

“Are you kidding me?”

Kim elbowed me.

Finally a lady with a tight black dress on and huge blond hair ran up onstage and started clapping her hands over her head.

“WELCOME, MY BROTHERS AND SISTERS!!!!!! THIS IS THE BEST DAY OF THE REST OF YOUR ETERNAL LIVES.”

Old people started clapping with her. Kim started clapping. I sunk in my seat.

A spotlight was swinging from wall to wall.

“INTRODUCING THE INCREDIBLE, THE BEAUTIFUL, THE WONDERFUL DOCTOR TED FARNSWORTH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

The spotlight swerved to a dented door in the corner. The music got lower and we waited for the incredible, the beautiful, the wonderful Dr. Ted Farnsworth.

We waited.

And we waited.

The lady with the blond hair said, “He's coming. He's on his way.”

We waited.

And then, when people were starting to get restless and a large man with a shiny head said, “I want my money back,” right then, Dr. Ted Farnsworth burst through the door.

He was wearing a green golf shirt and a blazer. His hair was greasy, which I whispered to Kim, “He looks like Leo.”

She hit me. Leo lived in Kim's apartment complex and bought Kim whipped cream for her birthday. He was disgusting. “Shh,” she said.

Dr. Ted Farnsworth ran up to the stage.

“HELLO, MY FRIENDS!!!!!” He yelled into the microphone.

People clapped.

“THE THINGS YOU LEARN TODAY WILL TRANSFORM THE WAY YOU LOOK AT LIFE, DEATH, AND YOURSELF.”

The spotlight shone on a white screen. No picture came up.

“WHAT DO YOU SEE?” he asked.

Someone yelled, ”Nothing.”

Someone else yelled, ”White.”

A third person said, “It's broken.”

Dr. Ted Farnsworth walked into the spotlight and said, “You're all right and you're all wrong.

“WHAT YOU SEE HERE IS AN ILLUSION. WE ALL HAVE OUR PERCEPTIONS OF THIS BLANK WALL, BUT WHAT YOU ARE REALLY SEEING IS . . .”

•

He waited.

This was idiotic but Kim was on the edge of her seat.

He started talking again, “What you're seeing, people, IS POSSIBILITY! HOPE! DEATH!”

It was a blank screen.

Then an actual PowerPoint showed up.

•

According to Dr. Ted, that first year was when the most visitations happened.

“Usually on important dates,” Dr. Ted said.

Dr. Ted said, “Birthdays, anniversaries, graduations, all those days are prime time for you to come back and tell your family you are still with them. You still love them. You're still a part of their lives.”

A lady behind me burped.

“Kim,” I whispered, “can we go?”

“Shh,” she said, digging her fingers into my thigh. “Listen,” she said.

Dr. Ted pointed to a slide on the screen. “The most important date, the date when you are almost guaranteed special time with your loved ones . . . if they are prepared, that is . . . is the anniversary of your death. Not only the anniversary, but the minute.”

PICTURE OF A STOPWATCH

“The exact minute the body and spirit separated. That minute is the minute you will, with 99.99 percent guarantee or your money back, that minute you will feel contact from your loved one. The veil is thin, my friends, the veil is thin.”

Kim scribbled on her notebook.

I felt sick to my stomach.