We’re doing another two-parter this weekend (though it might be longer, we’ll see). Tomorrow is my first day off in two weeks, so we’ll see what this turns into then. Until then you might remember a character from last year… —Jordy
“What do we have here?” the tall woman in a black evening gown smiled at the man shivering on the side of the road staring at the smashed car in the street. The blue and red flashing lights from the CHP cruisers blocking the road lit the desolate area but didn’t illuminate either the woman nor the man.
“You… you can see me?” he asked her, eyes wide.
“Yes of course I can,” then turned to regard the scene. The carcass of an enormous elk – or at least what was left of it – littered the road in front of what was left of a late model Toyota Corolla. In front of the elk on the road, highlighted by one of the CHP cruisers headlights lay a black sheet. “Let me guess,” she looked at the gold watch on her slender wrist, then put a finger to her lips, “you were leaving work.” She looked at him, “kitchen staff?”
“Umm, no, waiter,” he blinked confusedly.
“Ah, of course. Black slacks, black button-down, should have seen that… Anyway, you were leaving work after closing, driving maybe a little too fast, weren’t wearing your seatbelt and weren’t expecting an elk to be moseying across the road. How am I doing?”
“Uh…” he started. “Yeah, that’s right,” he said, “But I always wear my seatbelt!” he added.
“Just not this time.”
“Just not this time,” he trailed off guiltily. “Who are you? Some sort of detective?”
“Well, detective was a hobby. A hobby that got me killed, but that’s a longer story.” She turned to him and offered her hand. “Elaine Higby,” she said.
“Jimmy Woo,” he offered his hand. “Why am I so cold, Ms. Higby?”
“Elaine, Jimmy, you’re not at work anymore. You’re cold because you’re dead.” The statement didn’t register. She pointed a manicured finger at the sheet. “That’s you,” she said. “I wasn’t here when it happened, but that elk arrested your cars momentum abruptly shooting you through the windshield,” she pointed to the gaping hole in the shattered windshield of the car, “like human cannonball. Unfortunately,” she traced the path from the windshield to the sheet slowly in the air, “you didn’t have a net.” Turning back to him, “Does that help?”
Eyes wide with incredulity, he shook his head. “No, it doesn’t. I can’t be dead…”
“I’m sorry, Jimmy, but facts are facts…”
“How am I here talking to you?”
“Sorry, let me amend – you’re dead and a ghost.”
“A ghost? What? Why?”
“I don’t really know. There’s usually something about unfinished business – at least that’s why I suspect I’m here still. Then there’s really violent deaths that imprint places…” she regarded him with a wary eye. “No, those generally aren’t particularly conversant… No, I suspect you’re probable the last category: too surprised to know you’re even dead.”
“I can’t be dead!” he insisted.
“Hmm,” she tilted her head. “Well, that makes my case…”
“What about my girlfriend? My son?!” tears started filling his eyes.
“Jimmy,” she said with real concern, “I’m sorry. I really am. Sometimes I can come off a little… I don’t know… flippant.”
“You think?!” he scoffed.
“Guilty,” she replied, holding up a hand in acknowledgement. “It’s just I’ve been up here for a while, just me and the flora and fauna. I guess I’ve gotten a little jaded. But, yes, your girlfriend and your son…” she paused. “They will miss you terribly. But there is no coming back from this,” she said gesturing to the sheet.
“No, no, no…” he stammered, sitting on the guardrail as tears streamed down his face.
“Jimmy, can you listen to me for a moment?” He turned his face up to her. “You don’t want to be here, not like this. Not like me,” she gestured to her dress. “Frankly, I’m stuck here. I’m still figuring out the details, but that’s my reality. That doesn’t have to be yours.”
“What do you mean?” he sniffled and wiped at his eyes.
“You need to acknowledge this,” she waved her hand taking in the scene. “You need to accept you’re not here. That sucks. It’s terrible, and it’s going to be horrible for your girlfriend, your son, and everyone who loves you. But,” she reached down and took his hands, “there’s nothing you can do. You’re gone. You belong with those you love that have already passed on. You need to be with them. The living? They’ll sort all this out. That’s what they do. That’s the human condition.”
“Human condition?”
“We love hard, we mourn hard. There wouldn’t be beauty if there wasn’t pain,” she gave him a sad smile. “It sounds cliché, but it’s true.”
“But… I don’t want to be dead!”
“Jimmy, I don’t want to be dead either.” She closed her eyes and shook her head, “we don’t always get what we want. But there’s something you need.”
“What’s that?”
“Peace,” her voice soft. Then she added, “And maybe a hug.” She didn’t finish the last word before Jimmy threw his arms around her in a desperate embrace. She hugged him back as she felt his body wracked in sobs.
After a few moments he pulled back, wiped his face again and said, “I’m really dead.”
“You are, Jimmy, you are.”
Across the street a light erupted that bathed the scene in a warm golden glow.
“Huh,” Elaine said. “So that’s what that looks like.”
“Is that?”
“The ‘light’? Yeah, I think it is. And I think it’s here for you.”
“Really?” he asked. She nodded. “You accepted your death. It’s time to be at peace.”
“Halmi?” he squinted.
Elaine looked after his gaze and barely was able to make out an elderly woman in the light. “Your grandmother?”
Jimmy nodded, a smile on his face.
“Go, Jimmy.” Without a word he stood up and slowly walked across the street. As he did the stooped woman moved far enough out of the light for Elaine to get a good look at the elderly woman. She met Jimmy partway across and hugged him tightly. They separated and she took his hand and started to lead him into the light. He stopped and looked back at Elaine and mouthed the words, “Thank you” before continuing into the light which brightened and then winked out as quickly as it started.
Jimmy was gone.
“Well, shit.” She said with a sigh. “Back to stuck in this goddamn forest with no one to talk to.”
“And yet,” came an accented voice, “You helped that young man pass over.”
Elaine turned startled, “Who are you?!”
“Hello, I’m Saint Andrew Avenillo,” The tall wiry man in a long, white, billowy robe and an aquiline nose spoke with a light Italian accent. “Signorina Elaine, you may call me Andrew. I am the angel of sudden death. I’m here to help signore Jimmy pass on. But it looks like you took care of that for me…”
