Authors: Helen Downing
All right, so no matter how much
time goes by, this is where Deedy and I always end up. I have been part of the
welcoming committee in Heaven for the past half century or so. That means my
job is to gather together families and loved ones and be a kind of event
planner for new arrivals. Remember when I said that getting to Heaven was a
great party? Well, that is partially because of me. I am quite good at my job,
if I do say so myself. Not that I do not want to do more, or to be more.
Specifically, to have wings and super powers like Gabby. And I have made that
very clear to Deedy, both face to face and in our “evening chats,” as he likes
to put it. So this is the part where Deedy tells me to learn temperance and to
not allow my personal ambition to get in my own way. He has a plan for me, just
as he does for each of us, blah, blah, blah.
“No!” I say with desperation.
“Because I’m not talking in abstracts here. I am not here to discuss your
management concepts or the glass ceiling! I am talking about something much
more important!” I am on my feet now, my emotions taking over in my voice and
my argument. I realize that my hands are on his desk and now I am staring into
his eyes. “I cannot…absolutely cannot allow my best friend to go to Hell!”
Linda and I had been like sisters
at one time. My first true friend, who stood by me no matter how big of a
shitbird I could be—and you have no idea how big that is. I had a knack in my
youth of turning bad behavior into fucking performance art if I really put my
mind to it. And even when it backfired in Linda’s face, like my drunken toast
as her maid of honor at her wedding rehearsal dinner, there was always
forgiveness in her heart for me.
In the remote viewing room at the
company, I have seen so many lives wasted and even more senseless deaths
brought on by a hopelessness that can only be felt by beings trapped in their
own cruelness. Linda was never cruel, never even unkind. It was painful to
watch her grow old and see the bitterness form and then become her armor and
shield against a world that she could no longer understand or participate in,
and eventually watch it seep into her very heart. Linda’s heart was always a
wonder to me, so full of love. As I watched her final days tick by like minutes
to someone already eternal, and the understanding that in the end she was going
to let the bitterness win, first over Hank and then herself. It was a final
testament, but it was the wrong testament to her life. Linda was good. Linda
was the best. Why should she be punished when so many others who lived
terribly—and yes, I am thinking of myself for a brief moment here—get to be
here? My breath is now ragged as my thoughts overwhelm me. I sob now as I sit
and put my head on Deedy’s desk.
He looks at me, and his expression
is one of True Love. It brings me a sort of peace, but it also makes me even
sadder. How long will it take for Linda to see that expression? Or to feel his
comfort?
“I know it is difficult, Louise,”
he says softly. “To see someone you care about, especially the way you love
Linda, make a decision that could cause herself so much pain. But you also know
how this works. You know what is ahead for her, and you know that she will
eventually find her way home.”
“And in the meantime?” I say
through a new set of sobs. Damn Deedy, he always knows how to make me cry.
“In the meantime, you are going to
have to let her go,” he replies gently.
I take a deep breath and realize
that an idea is forming as I begin to speak. It just flows so quickly out of my
head I wonder for a moment if it is really mine. “Okay,” I begin. “Let’s talk
about my job classification.”
“My darling girl!” he says with
surprise. “Are you playing the sympathy card? My best friend just committed a
heinous act and is on her way to damnation so I should get a promotion?” He
sounds incredulous.
“No. Not a promotion. A demotion,”
I say with excitement. “Send me back,” I say that with a little less
excitement. To be totally honest, Hell is not a place anyone actually wants to
go. In fact, I am pretty sure I just heard Gabby gasp out in the lobby. That
almost makes me burst out laughing, but I don’t. I just look steadily at Deedy,
who is returning my gaze with complete amazement.
“You can’t be serious,” he says.
“Yup. Don’t send me back with no
memory and having to wear terrible clothes and stuff. Send me back like the
people I worked for and with when I was there the first time. Or like Will!
Send me back as a guardian! That would be perfect!” I exclaim.
“How would that be perfect? You
realize you cannot be Linda’s guardian,” he says, barely hiding his own shock
at my unexpected request. I take a moment to absorb this, and find a teensy bit
of pleasure from the fact that the creation can occasionally still surprise the
Creator. Free will extends to the afterlife, and I apparently used mine in vast
proportions just now. I don’t dwell on it for long, though, because I am now on
task like a pit bull with a brand new bone.
“Obviously,” I say
matter-of-factly.
“She won’t even be able to see you
most likely,” he says thoughtfully. I can see he is now considering all the
possibilities. Just as a side note, you never want to play chess with God. He
can see all the moves—past, present, and future. I’m pretty sure that is what
he is doing now. He is playing about one thousand different chess games
simultaneously, with me as the self-administered pawn in all of them.
“I spent thirty-two years in Hell,
remember? I think I know how the place works,” I say with a twinge of reticence
in my voice.
Deedy looks at me very closely, in
that way that he does. A way that makes me feel like he is seeing through the
imaginary body that I, as do all of us, continue to pretend that we have, and
is looking at the bare soul I actually am. He studies me for a long moment and
then a look of sadness comes over his face. Uh-oh, I think to myself. Did he
just see checkmate? Then I see a quick look of surprise again, followed by
sadness once more. Like the ships passing in the night metaphor, his
expressions are so fleeting that I wonder if I imagined them. Then for a split
second I am afraid that he is about to just announce that he is going to send
me back, not as an employee but as a resident where I can wallow for the next
ten thousand years in my own ego and insubordination. But finally there is the
look of affection and amusement. Where some would take that with relief and
comfort, I of course take it as an invitation to go further.
“And you have to admit,” I begin.
“I would be so much better at the whole guardian thing than some people. I
mean, I already know the neighborhood, and I am way better at sneaking around
than Will on my worst day!” I look at him and nod my head knowingly.
“And she’s back!” he says grandly.
“My over-confidant Darling Girl.” He looks at me and laughs. “Okay. I will have
your assignment tomorrow at eight am.” Then he pauses and says more seriously, “Are
you sure this is what you want?”
“Fuck yeah!” I say.
He raises his eyebrows at me.
“What? Just preparing to return to
the old hood. Gotta talk like that natives, ya know.” I try to ignore the fact
that he is reaching into his desk drawer for the infamous curse jar. That
little bit of masterful smartassery will cost me a quarter. I happily make my
donation.
“Ofalus yr hyn yr ydych yn dymuno i
fy annwyl” Deedy says to me.
“Speaking of old and language. You
know, since I have been in Heaven I’ve met thousands of people from Wales. Even
they don’t speak Welsh. Why do you?” I say.
“It doesn’t look like it sounds,
and it doesn’t sound like anything else,” he says. “I have always had a soft
spot for the more puzzling things in life.” Then he looks at me and winks
mischievously. “People too.”
I bow with a flourish of my hand as
if I was on a stage. “Thank you. Thank you very much,” I say with my own wink.
Then I add with all seriousness, “Really, Deedy. Thank you for this.”
“Good luck, Louise. I’ll see you
tomorrow,” he says, and I know I am now officially dismissed.
Smiling, I walk back down the hall.
Gabby is waiting for me like a panther waiting to pounce.
“Do you have the slightest idea of
what you are doing, Louise?” she asks. There is no anger in her voice. I think
she is really concerned for me.
“Apparently not,” I say. “I never
even considered I would once again have to use an alarm clock.” I laugh.
Everyone in the entire kingdom knows that the one thing I hated more than the
coffee or the wardrobe choices in Hell was the fact that I had to be at work at
eight in the morning on the dot every fucking morning.
Gabby puts her hand on my shoulder.
Her touch gives me a warming sense of goodwill. “You’ll be careful down there,
right? It has been so long since you’ve had to have your guard up.”
“Gabby, how many of the people who
work in Hell had to go there first?” I ask.
“A few,” she answers. “But yes,
Louise. You are a unique individual,” she says with relief.
“And it should be interesting,” I
continue. “To see the old neighborhood as a tourist instead of a resident.
Might even be fun,” I say with as much bravado as I can muster. “At the very
least, this time I get to come back here every night.” I look at Gabby with now
sparkling eyes as tears begin to fill them once again. This time, I know the
way home, I think to myself, knowing there is no such thing if Gabby is around.
“Exactly,” Gabby says with a
winning grin.
This time I say what I’m thinking
out loud, because I still find it a bit creepy when Gabby is speaking while I
am just thinking. “And I’m guessing by Deedy’s reaction that there isn’t a line
of folks outside of his office demanding a demotion?”
“To say the least,” she answers,
laughing out loud. “Like I said, Louise Patterson, you are one of his most unique
creations!”
“I will take that as a compliment,”
I say as I walk to the elevator and prepare to go back down. I step inside when
the doors open and hit the button for the first floor. As the doors begin to
close, Gabby turns and reaches out so that her arm stops them from closing
completely.
“I almost forgot,” she says. “Hank
just came through intake. You may want to go say hello to him.” Then she allows
the doors to close and return me to the street.
CHAPTER THREE
As I walk back to the Company, I
ponder Hank’s arrival. Will he be glad to see me? Will he understand why he is
there? Will whoever takes care of his welcoming tell him that Linda is dead
too? And why she isn’t with him?
Hank and I were never really close
in life. We liked each other well enough, but it was a kind of a forced
relationship. Love me, love my dog kind of thing. Each of us would consider the
other the “dog” in that scenario. I thought that since I was first, I was more
important. He believed that because he was her chosen life partner that
superseded our friendship. In reality, neither one of us was correct. Linda’s
heart had plenty of room for both of us, and she was great at making time for
me after her wedding. However, it didn’t take me long before I began to
understand that Hank had a part of her life that I was not invited to ever be
privy to experience. The only consolation I had was that I was the one she used
to bitch about him to. Hank and I probably knew more about each other than
either of us were comfortable with. Linda told him about all my misadventures,
and I got to hear about every marital squabble and every gory detail of their
private life.
It suddenly occurs to me that
seeing me after all this time may just be a sentimental reminder of the early
years of his marriage. To the woman who had just poisoned him to death. I start
to feel more and more nervous as I approach the WF&PI building. I vacillate
between hoping that he knows about Linda already and wishing that his welcomer
may have chosen to omit a few details surrounding their demise.
When I arrive at the Company I move
swiftly to the main office, where all assignments show up on a board. All I
have to do is speak my name and my designated duties will appear for the day.
For the rest of today my schedule is suddenly very blank. Due to, I assume, my
sudden reclassification from the Big Guy. So, knowing I can relax and not have
to worry that I may be leaving someone in the lurch, I am now free to attend
Hank’s welcoming party as a guest with a clear conscience. I see my father and
mother walking down the hall with another familiar looking couple. “Hey, guys!
Wait up!” I yell and sprint to catch up with them. My mom looks gorgeous, as
usual with surprisingly thick brown hair. She didn’t change it mentally when
she came here either. She died with that head of hair. Maybe it was a tad more
gray, but not overwhelmingly more. What a looker my mom is! My father’s good
humor is as evident in the afterlife as it was among the living. His smile gets
even wider when I approach.
“Louise! What a surprise to see you
out here! I thought you would have already been inside. We are running just a
tad late,” my mom says. She may be a heavenly being, but she’s still the master
of the backdoor zinger.
“Me too. I had a meeting with Deedy
this morning,” I say back smugly. Yes, I know it is terrible to use having a
somewhat personal relationship with the boss as a leg up in a discussion with
your mother, but what can I say? I didn’t get here by the scenic route for
being a fabulous person all the time.
“That’s fine, sweetheart!” my
father chimes in with his booming voice. “What was the meeting about? Are they
changing your assignment?” He looks concerned. Dad has always been as
interested in my afterlife career as me.
“We’ll talk later,” I say breezily
and give him a quick kiss on the cheek. “Right now, as Mom just pointed out, we
are late for a party!” I now look at the couple in expectation. I assume
someone is going to introduce me.
My mom steps forward to the task.
“Louise, you remember Mr. and Mrs. Miller? Hank’s parents?” I look at them and
feel heat in my face. Mr. Miller not only looks shocked to see me on this side
of the pearly gates, he looks as if he may have a heart attack and die for the
second time. Mrs. Miller tries to force a small smile at me, but her dislike is
obvious as well.
“So…” I say, embarrassed. “I guess
there is no chance that you have forgotten me.”
The only time I ever met the
Millers when we were all breathing was at Linda’s wedding. The aforementioned
rehearsal dinner where I got inebriated and spoken my mind, and the next day
where I showed up in a different dress than planned. The dress I was supposed
to wear was designed to make me streamlined and color coordinated with the
flowers and sophisticated decor. The dress I showed up in was designed to make
me look like a deranged circus clown on shore leave. There was a method to my
madness, of course...but I’m sure the Millers were never made aware. Thus, my
cemented role as the bad influence, riff-raff of a best pal to their new
daughter-in-law was following me beyond the grave.
“I’m sure it’s all fine, dear.
Please do join us. It really is a glorious occasion!” says Mrs. Miller, shaking
off any bad feelings. Not that hearing that my best friend’s stupid last act
that has sent her to the depths of despair and anguish being described as
glorious doesn’t make the hairs on the back of my neck stand up and twist a
bit, but I get what she is saying. Today is glorious for her, and Mr. Miller,
and everyone else who loves Hank and is so relieved that he is finally here.
That is the best thing about Heaven. There really is very little consideration
about how one dies, how young or old they are, etc. The things that occupy our
minds as living creatures, and as survivors to those who have gone before just
doesn’t even ping on the meter here. Hank is home, and that is cause for
celebration. So, with that in mind, I take Mrs. Miller’s arm and escort her
into her son’s welcoming.
“That’s right,” I say with a big
smile. “We are all in this together now!”
Hank is in the center of the room,
looking so much older than he did the last time I was face to face with him,
but seeming much more alert and spry than he seemed at the end of his days. He
is laughing at something a younger looking man just said to him. He turns and
says “I don’t remember you being such a card, Grandpa!” Then he laughs again.
“Of course, I lost you when I was three, right?” That is the other thing about
Heaven. You can’t tell who is what age or how they may be related. The young
ingénue may in fact be the great aunt of the old woman she is sitting next to.
I laugh out loud as I think, for probably the millionth time in the last twenty
years, I love being here! And I feel a small twinge in the center of my belly
as I realize I just volunteered to not be here most of the time for the
foreseeable future.
When Hank spots his mom and dad his
emotions get the better of him. I step back and stand next to my own father.
“How long has it been since he has seen them?” I ask Dad.
“For his dad about forty years. His
mom went a few years after that, I think,” he replies. “Good, long lives, both
of them.” He looks down at me and there is a touch of sadness behind his smile.
I don’t know if that is a memory he is reliving about my death, or the fact
that he had to wait an additional thirty years before we could have this kind
of reunion due to my stint down under, or finally perhaps he is thinking of
Linda too. I reach over and squeeze him tight. We are in mid-embrace when, if you
will pardon the expression, all hell breaks loose.
“Louise? Louise Patterson? Is that
you?” Hank says as he rushes at me like a running back on a football field. I
take a step back, not sure what to expect.
“Hello, Hank,” I say cautiously.
“It’s so nice to—” That is all I can blurt out before he reaches me and wraps
his meaty arms around me, squeezing my breath completely from my body.
“Louise, I can’t believe I’m
looking at you again. It’s so great to see you here.” He lifts me up like a
ragdoll and starts spinning me around, laughing like we are teenagers.
“Hank, my stomach may be imaginary,
but I swear I am going to puke if you don’t cut it out!” I scream through my
own laughter.
“Sorry, Lou,” Hank replies,
breathless now as he puts me down. “I just keep forgetting that we are still
old folks. I feel so young.” Then he stops and really looks at me. “But look at
you. You are still young. And pretty as a picture!” he says with true
admiration.
I don’t know whether to be
uncomfortable or flattered. “I don’t remember you being such a charmer, back
when I was alive.” My surprise came through my newly high pitched voice.
“Well,” he started, teasing me.
“Way back then you scared the shit out of me!” A look of slight panic entered
his eyes, and I start to laugh out loud.
“Don’t worry, cussing doesn’t
disqualify you. But it will cost you a quarter. Really. I wish I was kidding,
but I can show you my personal bank statements that will prove to you exactly
how much it can add up to,” I say.
Now it is his turn to laugh. “Why
doesn’t that shock me? Oh yeah, because I know you.”
“So, why did I seem scary to you?”
I question.
“Let’s see, you were Linda’s
trash-talking, anti-establishment, marriage-hating best friend.”
Once again, my face starts to flush
with embarrassment. “I guess I have owed you an apology for a very long time.”
“Not at all. You are partially
responsible for creating the person I spent most of my life with. For that, you
don’t owe me anything at all,” he answered, his blush rising to meet mine.
Fuck me running. So he doesn’t
know, or doesn’t remember. Will someone else tell him while he is at his
welcoming party? Should I hope someone does, or would it be better coming from
me? These questions are running through my head as Hank leans close to my ear.
“But, Lou, I have some questions
that I am not really comfortable asking anyone else.” He looks around quickly,
like he is about to say something terribly secret or perhaps off-color. “I know
these people are family, but they all feel strange to me.” He looks at me
hopefully.
“I’ll be happy to help in any way,”
I say. “I’m taking a new assignment tomorrow, so I won’t be available during
the day. If you don’t mind waiting until the evening, we can make plans to get
together?”
“That is awesome of you, Lou,” he says
with gratitude. “I would not only be willing to wait, I will look forward to
it.” Hank sounds so pleased, like he was my best friend, not married and
eventually killed by her.
“Me too,” I say warmly. “But for
now, enjoy your party and spend some time with people you haven’t seen in a
while.” I stand and open my arms to embrace him. “You are going to be very
happy here,” I whisper in his ear.
“Tomorrow night,” he says through
eyes that are starting to fill. “Don’t forget!”
“No worries. I will be here,” I
say, then suddenly remembering where I will be coming from, I add, “And I could
quite possibly have bells on!” He does not get my half-joke, but I make a
promise to myself that I’ll explain tomorrow night.
I start to move through the room,
waving cordially to folks I do not know and stopping to say hi to those that I
do. I stop and give my mom a hug and a kiss. I am not surprised when my dad
insists on walking me out. We make our escape quietly and walk arm-in-arm
toward my condo. It is just a few blocks and the weather, as usual, is perfect.
We walk by my old place of employment IP&FW—Internet Porn and Fetish
Web—the only internet service available in Hell. I worked in their call center
when I first arrived.
You see, Heaven and Hell exist
within the same space. We actually sometimes walk the same streets, live in
adjoining neighborhoods, everything. The difference is the residents. While the
majority of Hellions live on the opposite side of the city, and a great deal of
Heaven’s occupants live…well…up, we basically are all the same. With the help
of Deedy’s magic, residents of Hell can’t see anything that would be considered
Heaven-centric. The heat that makes Hell such a famous shit hole is
manufactured by the guilt and remorse that people who feel they belong there
walk around carrying with them. Isn’t that a kick in the teeth? Most people go
to Hell because they feel that they deserve it.
And the ones that were so bad in
life that there was no choice but eternal damnation? They have a very special
punishment. With all its torments, Hell would be a playground to mass
murderers, pedophiles, dictators, and tyrants. They come here not only under
tortuous circumstances, but also as children. The most frightening thing about
Hell is the kid population. I happen to have first-hand knowledge of that
particular fact. One of my temp jobs was at a daycare center in Hell.
However, it was my work at
IP&FW that truly gave me insight into the general population. Hell is the
one place in the entire universe that everyone without exception needs a Xanax,
and it’s the one place where you cannot find one. No peace, no rest, no
“tomorrow is a better day.” Not until you have learned whatever lessons your
soul desires and Deedy finds you and brings you home. And since no one there
knows or expects that to happen, the despair can be suffocating.
My dad was the only member of my
immediate family that was there to greet me when I got to Heaven. I didn’t have
a welcoming party, because I didn’t come straight there. But having him standing
with open arms was so special. Some people thought I was a daddy’s girl in
life, but that doesn’t hold a candle to what I am in the afterlife.
I remember in second grade, this
classmate of mine, a precocious little girl called Kimmy with huge brown eyes
that apparently made every adult in the room turn into a mass of goo. Kimmy was
sitting next to me at lunch, for some strange reason. We weren’t exactly
friends, but I guess at that age, we weren’t self-aware enough to consider each
other enemies. Anyway, I looked up from my peanut butter and jelly to realize
that my father was walking across the cafeteria with my homework in his hand. I
had forgotten it that morning on the counter, and I was already prepared for
the wrath of Mrs. Newman, but now my dad was coming to save me. I remember how
shocked I felt when I saw him standing among my classmates and teachers. I
guess when you are eight years old, compartmentalization of your life comes
naturally. It was very strange for me to see someone from my home, my oasis
from the chaos, standing among the rest of the captives in my daytime cage.
Yes, I felt that strongly about the educational institution even at that tender
age. After Daddy had handed me the precious papers that were basically a get
out of jail free card to me, he leaned over and gave me a quick kiss, then
turned and left. Without the papers in my hand I could have believed that I had
imagined the entire experience. That is, until Kimmy turned to me with those
big brown eyes and said, “Your dad is kinda funny looking, isn’t he?” An
innocent comment from a child’s perspective would be the first thought of any
reasonable adult. My father himself, if he had heard it would have laughed out
loud. However, for a rival child, those words were a declaration of war. The
look of shock and horror were the last expression those adorable eyes were able
to make for the remainder of the week. Particularly the left one, which was
swollen shut after I pounded it with my tiny fists of fury. I felt like Chuck
Norris. Chuck Norris sitting in the principal’s office, but it was pretty
intoxicating nevertheless. Now, take that level of devotion and times it by ten
and that is where I am today.