Becoming Death (15 page)

“No. To make a long story short, this is my day job. The blonde in the front row is the one who’s going to peg it.”

“What a relief.” She held her chest. “I thought you’d messed up an assignment and I was being called in to play clean-up. The paperwork is always so difficult to fill in for those ones.”

I pinched my eyebrows together. “No, I haven’t messed up, yet. I think I’ve got it down now.”

She gave me a thumbs-up. “That’s good. Stay positive. When you get a difficult case, it’ll help.”

I clenched my jaw. “Who are you here for anyway?”

Tiara checked her phone. “I’ve got to find some guy named Harrison Roads.”

“What? That can’t be right.”

She jiggled the phone screen at me. “I assume you know him. Where is he?”

I sighed, motioning in his direction with my head.

“Got him,” she said. She moved between the rows until she was sat behind him. “Excuse me,” she said, tapping the back of his neck. “Do you know what time it is?”

Unaware anything had happened, Harrison looked down at his watch and read off the time. “It’s five to eleven.”

I shot daggers at Tiara as she returned to her seat next me and folded her arms in her lap. “See, that’s how it’s done. I may as well stay and enjoy the show. What did you picture for her?”

“I don’t know. Just the funeral, I think.”

“You are such an amateur,” she said.

I saw a flash like I had with Elizabeth’s death and felt time slow.

Tiara leaned back in her chair. “Showtime.”

My heartbeat sped up and echoed in my ears until it was the only sound left in the world. Cindy rose from her seat and walked in slow motion towards the casket. One of her heels sank into the ground, causing her to twist her ankle. She fell forwards and knocked her head into the corner of the casket. My breath hitched. Ouch. She held on to the side of the casket, causing the whole thing to sway under her weight. She hauled herself up, balancing on one foot. Derek started to stand up from his chair but she waved him away. “I'm okay,” she said, slipping instantly back into character. She leaned over the body and held Rick’s cheek. “Rick, I—” she was cut off, literary, as the casket lid slammed down into her neck. A spray of blood splattered across the other guests. When the flash finished, Cindy didn’t scream or kick for help. Her body slumped against the coffin, her neck still attached to a piece of metal on the coffin lid. The silence was sickening. Everyone sat with their mouths agape.

Tiara turned to me and mouthed, “Wow, good job.”

Derek stumbled to his feet first and ran to the coffin. “Cindy! Oh my God, Cindy!”

“Someone call 911!” Harrison said, following behind Derek to join him at the casket.

I froze and watched as Tiara pulled out her phone and dialed the digits nine-one-one impossibly slowly.

“You shouldn’t touch the body,” an elderly woman said from the seats.

Ignoring her, Derek and Harrison lifted the lid and were met with blood dripping from it. Derek’s fingers slipped and the lid crashed down on Cindy’s neck again.

He collapsed on the ground and buried his head in his hand. “She’s gone. What’s the point?”

Harrison retreated to a chair and sat down, hanging his head.

I ran to the guys and rubbed Derek’s back. “The ambulance is coming. They’ll be able to help soon. You did everything you could.”

“Tell
her
that. I’m the one who made her play the widow,” he said, wiping some blood off his face with his sleeve.

Other members of the funeral party looked at him with confusion.

“Derek, not here,” I said.

“I killed her, it’s my fault,” he told me.

I held my tongue and backed away from him and the pained looked in his eyes, ashamed at what I had done.

It had taken two hours for the police to interview everyone that had been at the scene when Cindy died. They wanted to rule out a murder, and with so many eye-witness accounts it seemed they were in agreement that it was just a freak accident. Tiara had somehow slipped away unnoticed using her obfuscation, but I wasn’t so lucky. I got the joy of watching Cindy’s lifeless corpse being stuffed into a body bag.

The taxi ride back to the office was silent. I was squeezed between both guys, Harrison trying to scratch away the blood crusted on his shirtsleeve and Derek murmuring to himself between tears about whether Cindy death would be covered under Happy Mourners’ insurance. I didn’t know what to say to either of them so I stayed quiet, contemplating what Cindy’s last thoughts had been. Her death had been so violent, I wondered if my image had caused it to be that way?

We piled out the taxi in the Happy Mourners’ parking lot, waiting for Derek to say something inspirational.

He sighed, slumping forwards, his eyes blood shot. “I’m sorry today didn’t go as planned and for what you had to witness. I don’t know what we’re going to do without—” The words seemed to catch in his throat.

Harrison and I waited for him to say something else, but he simply walked away towards the office building.

Harrison adjusted his glasses. “Don’t worry about Derek. I’ll make sure he gets home alright. Will you be okay to drive yourself?”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine. I don’t live far away anyway. Do you think everything will be okay?”

“It’s going to take some time. The business may be rocky for a while when word gets out, but we’ll get back to where we were.”

“I hope so. I’ll see you later.” I walked towards my car. It hadn’t been the first day of work I’d been hoping for, but it was over.

The guilt of three dead bodies lying in my wake ate away at me. Three people had never gotten to say goodbye to their loved ones because of me. Max’s ex-wife seemed the easiest to fix. I knew where she worked and knew that she needed a final goodbye. Although I had seen Max’s memories and felt his emotions running through me when we’d touched, I didn’t really know how to put those emotions into words. Years of writing fan fiction had failed me, and if I was honest my writing had never been poetic. In high school I had come close to having a nervous breakdown when I was forced to read aloud my poor version of a Haiku.

Unlike Elizabeth’s memories, which had started to fade, Max’s desperate need to confirm his love to Sheryl stayed with me. He was a ghost of a memory, haunting me with his unfinished business. I could still feel his pain at Sheryl’s rejection in the restaurant and his genuine need to get her back into his life. He needed a proper goodbye, and I knew deep down I was the only person that could give it to him.

No, it sounded like he was writing from beyond the grave. I scribbled out the text in my notepad.

Nope, he sounds like a teenager.

I tapped my pen against the table. What ever I thought of sounded clumsy and fake. She’d never believe the letter was really from him, and I needed her to. I wasn’t only doing this for Max; I had seen Sheryl at the funeral too. Even with their divorce and her new partner, it was obvious Max was and always would be her first love. I needed to do this right.

In my all black getup I looked more like a cat burglar than someone delivering a goodbye letter to a widow. The envelope with Sheryl’s name scrolled across the front crinkled between my fingers. I was nervous. What if my obfuscation didn’t work? She could easily recognize me from the funeral or my earlier visit to the restaurant. I’d look like a stalker and my choice of outfit wouldn’t say otherwise.

I paused at the doorway to the restaurant, trying to think invisible thoughts.
Go inside,
I dared myself. The handbook had made it seem so easy, like something out of
Peter Pan
: if you believed you could become invisible to others, you would be. Sadly, that never worked for me in high school and it didn’t seem to work today either.

I held my breath and closed my eyes to focus on my impossible task. Inside my head I chanted,
I am invisible, no one will see me. I am invisible, no one will know I’m here
. My stomached flopped and nausea overtook me. I opened my eyes, hoping that was the sign it had worked.

I opened the door slightly and slipped between the gap. Something felt different and I was now confident I could pull this off.

“Can I help you, sweetheart?” A waitress stepped in front of me, pulling a menu out from the holder at the counter.

My heart dropped to my knees and I fumbled with the letter, stuffing it into my back pocket. “I, umm… bathroom.” I pushed past her and headed to the stall. “Idiot, idiot,” I hissed, locking the door. Why hadn’t it taken? It seemed so simple in the book and Tiara clearly hadn’t had any problems. I stared at myself in the mirror. What was wrong with me? Screw it. I pulled the letter from my pocket. I didn’t need my obfuscation to pull this off. I threw open the door and headed to the tables.

My path was blocked as Tiara appeared out of nowhere and snatched the letter from my hand. “Clark, are you an idiot?”

“Hey, what the hell?” I said reaching for the letter, but she held it behind her back.

She shook a finger at me. “Naughty, naughty, Madison.”

“Give that back right now. Someone is going to see us.”

“Relax, loser, we’re obfuscated. Have you even read the handbook? Because if you had, you’d know we’re never supposed to speak to our client’s family or friends. We’re especially never supposed to give them messages from beyond the grave. I told Ms. Winters you’d mess up. That’s why I followed you,” Tiara explained.

I stepped closer to her, my eyes burning into hers. “My reaps are none of your business, so get out of my way.”

“So you can give that waitress this letter? No way. Being a grim reaper is bigger than both of us, Clark. Do you even understand the ramifications your actions could have on all of our lives? If humans knew there was a way to cheat death, we’d all be history,” Tiara said, tearing the letter apart. “I’m protecting all of us from idiots like you.”

My shoulders shook and I lowered my head. “She has a right to know he loved her.”

“Then he should have told her when he was alive. It’s over, Clark. It’s not your responsibility anymore.”

I backed up towards the door and left the restaurant shaking my head. Deep down I knew she was right. My phone rang as I opened my car door, and I settled inside before answering it. “Hello.”

“Madison,” my sister’s voice whimpered.

“Clarissa, is that you?” I wasn’t used hearing my sister in an emotional state.

“Do you know where Mom is? She’s not answering her phone. I need—”

“What’s the matter? Are you okay? Did something go wrong at work?” I interrupted her.

“I messed up. I messed up so bad,” Clarissa said.

“Where are you?”

“At home. I need Mom.”

“Well you’ll have to settle for me. I’ll be there in a few minutes.”