Elsewhere (11 page)

Despite her modest salary at the DDA, Liz quickly pays back all of Betty's eternims. She soon finds she has a great deal of spare ones and nothing really to spend them on. She lives with Betty and pays a small amount for her room and board; she doesn't need health insurance or car insurance (unfortunately) or renter's insurance or any other sort of insurance; she doesn't have to save for a down payment on a house or retirement or college or her children's college or a lavish wedding or a rainy day or anything else. She doesn't go to the OD anymore. She would buy a car, but what would be the point when she can't drive anyway? When you aren't preparing for old age, senility, sickness, death, or children, there is relatively little to spend on, Liz thinks with a sigh.

"Aldous," Liz asks during her monthly progress meeting, "what am I supposed to do with all these eternims?"

"Buy something nice," Aldous suggests.

"Like what?"

Aldous shrugs. "A house?"

"I don't need a house. I live with Betty," Liz answers. "What is the point of going to work if I don't really need the eternims anyway?"

"You go to work," Aldous pauses, "because you like it. That's why we call it an avocation."

"Oh, I see."

"You do like your work, don't you, Elizabeth?"

"No," Liz answers after a moment's reflection, "I love it."

It had been just over a month since Liz began her avocation. In that time, she had become known as one of the best counselors at the Division of Domestic Animals. She was in that rare and enviable situation: she excelled at her work, and she loved doing it. Work helped the rest of her first summer in Elsewhere pass quickly. Work took her mind off the fact that she was dead.

She worked long hours, and what little time was left, she spent with Betty, Sadie, or Thandi. (Liz apologized to Thandi not long after she started at the DDA, and was quickly forgiven.) Liz tried not to think about her mother or her father or her old life on Earth. For the most part, she was successful.

Liz even convinced Thandi to adopt the confused Chihuahua Paco. Initially, Thandi was skeptical.

"You sure it's a dog? Looks more like a little rat to me."

Paco was skeptical, too. "I don't mean to be rude," he said, "but why aren't you Pete?"

"I'm Thandi. You can think of me as New Pete."

"Oh," said Paco thoughtfully, "I think I finally understand. You're saying Petedied. Is that it?"

Paco had drowned in a kiddie pool, which he had apparently forgotten again.

"Sure, you can think of it that way if it suits you." Thandi patted Paco gingerly on the head.

Many nights after work, the two girls walk Paco and Sadie in the park near Liz's house. On one of those evenings, Liz asks Thandi, "Are you happy?"

"No point in being sad, Liz." Thandi shrugs. "The weather's nice here, and I like being on TV."

"Do you remember when I thought everything was a dream?" Liz asks. "I can't believe I ever thought that, because now it seems like everything on Earth, everything that came before ... It sometimes seems like that was the dream."

Thandi nods.

"Sometimes," Liz says, "I wonder if this is all there is. Just our jobs, walking the dogs, and that's it."

"What's wrong with this?" Thandi asks.

"It's just, don't you ever long for a bit of adventure, Thandi? A bit of romance?"

"Wasn't dying enough of an adventure for you, Liz?" Thandi shakes her head. "Personally, I've had just about all the adventure I can take."

"Yes," Liz answers finally, "I suppose you're right."

"I think you're already on an adventure, and you don't even know it," Thandi says.

And yet one thing tugs at Liz's mind. Liz's father's forty-fifth birthday is the week after next.

Several months before his birthday, Liz had been in the Lord & Taylor's Men's Department with Zooey. While Zooey had been comparing silk boxer shorts to buy for her boyfriend John on Valentine's Day (tiny glow-in-the dark cupids? Pairs of polar bears locked in perpetual kisses?), Liz had spotted a sea green cashmere sweater that was the exact color of her father's eyes. The sweater cost $150, but it was absolutely perfect. Liz had the money saved from several months of babysitting. The logic part of her brain had begun to protest. It's nowhere near your father's birthday, it said. It's a bit extravagant, it insisted. Maybe you could get Mom to pay for it, it taunted. Liz had ignored the voice. She knew if she didn't buy the sweater right then, it probably wouldn't be there when she went back for it. (It had never occurred to Liz that shemight not be there.) Besides, she hadn't wanted her mother to buy it; she had wanted to buy it herself. There was something more honest about it that way. She had taken a deep breath, plunked the money on the counter, and bought the sweater. As soon as she got home from the mall, she had wrapped the sweater and written out a card. She had hidden the package in the narrow space underneath a loose floorboard in her closet, where she was quite confident no one would ever find it.

Of all the things that could be bothering Liz, the thought that her father might never receive the sweater irrationally torments her. Her father would never know that she would spend $150 of her own moneyon him. Her father might move from their house never finding her gift, never knowing that Liz had loved him enough to buy him the perfect sea green sweater. It would remain hidden, eventually attracting moths and deteriorating into unidentifiable shreds of perfect sea green cashmere. A sweater that beautiful, Liz thinks, is not meant for such a tragic end.

She knows that Contact is illegal, yet she refuses to believe that getting one insignificant sweater to her father could really cause that much trouble. If anything, she is sure it will facilitate her father in the grieving process.

And so for the second time, Liz decides to dive to the Well. She already has the equipment, and this time she actually has a good reason. Besides, life is better with a little adventure.

Liz arrives at the beach at sunset. The dive to the Well is the most ambitious one Liz has ever attempted. She doesn't know exactly how deep it will be or what she'll find when she gets to the lowest point. Liz pushes those concerns to the back of her mind. She checks the gauge on her Infinity Tank one last time and begins to swim.

The deeper Liz dives, the darker the water becomes. All around her, she senses the presence of other people. Presumably, they are also going to the Well. Occasionally, she discerns indistinct shapes or odd rustlings, lending her descent an eerie, almost haunted feeling.

Finally, Liz reaches the Well. It is the saddest, quietest place she has ever been. It looks like an open drain at the bottom of a sink. Intense light pours out of the opening. Liz peers over the edge, into the light. She can see her house on Carroll Drive. The house appears faded, like a watercolor painting left in the sun. In the kitchen, Liz's family is just sitting down to dinner.

Liz speaks into the Well. Her voice sounds garbled from being underwater. She knows she has to choose her words carefully, if she is to be understood. "THIS IS LIZ. LOOK UNDER THE

CLOSET FLOORBOARDS. THIS IS LIZ. LOOK UNDER THE CLOSET FLOORBOARDS."

At Liz's old house, all the faucets simultaneously turn on: every shower and every sink, the dishwasher, even the toilet gurgles. Liz's family looks at one another, perplexed. Lucy barks insistently. "That's odd," Liz's mother says, getting up to turn off the kitchen sink.

"Must be something wrong with the plumbing," Liz's father adds before going to turn off the shower and the bathroom sink.

Only Alvy remains at the table. He hears the faintest high-pitched something coming from the faucets, though he isn't able to identify what it is. From the Well, Liz watches him push his hair back behind his ears. His hair is so long, Liz thinks. Why hasn't anyone cut his hair?

Having turned off all the faucets, Liz's mother and father return to the table. About five seconds later, the water starts up all over again.

"Well, I'll be damned," Liz's father says, standing to turn off the water for the second time.

Liz's mother is about to stand when suddenly Alvy pushes his chair away from the table. "STOP!"

he yells.

"What is it?" Liz's mother asks.

"Be quiet," Alvy says with remarkable authority for a person of eight, "and please don't touch the sink."

"Why?" Liz's parents ask the question in unison.

"It's Lizzie," Alvy says quietly. "I think I can hear Lizzie."

At this point, Liz's mother begins to sob. Liz's father looks at Alvy. "Is this some kind of a joke?"

he asks.

Alvy puts his ear up to the spigot. He can just make out Liz's voice.

"ALVY, IT'S LIZ. THERE'S SOMETHING FOR DAD UNDER THE FLOORBOARDS IN MY

CLOSET."

Alvy nods. "I'll tell him, Lizzie. Are you okay?"

Liz doesn't get a chance to answer. At that moment, a net falls over her, and she is pulled back toward the surface.

Thrashing her arms and legs, Liz attempts to free herself. Her efforts are for naught. The more she struggles, the tighter the net seems to become. Liz quickly realizes the futility of trying to escape. She sighs, accepting her momentary defeat gracefully. At least the ascent to shore will be quicker than if she had to swim it herself.

The net propels Liz upward with astonishing speed, almost like a waterslide in reverse. At first, Liz is concerned that she might get the bends. She soon realizes that the net seems to be providing its own pressurization system. How odd, thinks Liz, that Elsewhere has advanced netting technology. What makes a civilization develop sophisticated nets? she wonders. Maybe it's the Liz forces all thoughts of nets from her mind and tries to focus on the situation at hand.

Despite being captured, Liz is in high spirits. She is reasonably sure that her mission has been a success. Of course, no one had prepared her for the odd way one communicated from the Well: all the loud faucets, Liz's disembodied voice like an irate teapot. Is this what it means to be a ghost?

Liz latches her fingers into the netting. She wonders where she is being taken. Clearly, her little trip has gotten her into some sort of trouble. But all things considered, she is glad she went.

As she reaches the surface, Liz braces herself for the cool night air. Even in her expensive wet suit, she begins to shiver. Liz pulls off her diving mask and sees a white tugboat in the middle of the water. She can barely make out a dark-haired man standing on the deck. As she is drawn closer, Liz can see that he is wearing sunglasses even though it is night. She determines that he is probably older than her, but younger than Curtis Jest. (Of course, determining actual ages is a particularly tricky business in Elsewhere.) The man seems familiar, but Liz can't quite place him.

The net opens, and Liz is unceremoniously dumped onto the boat. As soon as she hits the deck, the man begins to speak to her in a stern voice: "Elizabeth Marie Hall, I am Detective Owen Welles of the Elsewhere Bureau of Supernatural Crime and Contact. Are you aware that by attempting to Contact the living, you are in violation of Elsewhere law?"

"Yes," Liz says in a strong voice.

Owen Welles appears to be taken aback by Liz's response. This woman, girl really, freely admits that she has broken the law. Most people at least try to dissemble.

"Would you mind taking off those sunglasses?" Liz asks.

"Why?"

"I want to see your eyes. I want to know how much trouble I'm in." Liz smiles.

Detective Owen Welles is somewhat defensive about his sunglasses. He never goes anywhere without them, because he believes they make him look more authoritative. And why is she smiling?

"You can't actually need sunglasses right now," Liz says. "It is night, after all."

Liz is starting to annoy Owen. He hates when people mention that he wears his sunglasses at night. Now, he definitely won't take them off.

"Owen Welles," Liz repeats the name aloud. "O. Welles, like 'Oh well'!" Liz begins to laugh, even though she knows her joke isn't a particularly good one.

"Right, I've never heard that before." Owen does not laugh.

"Oh well," Liz says, and then she laughs again. "Isn't it odd that your last name should be Welles, and you happen to work at the Well?"

"What's odd about that?" Owen demands.

"Not so much odd as coincidental, I suppose," Liz says. "Um, can I just get my punishment or my ticket or whatever, and get out of here?"

"I have to show you something first. Follow me," he says.

Owen leads Liz across the main deck to a telescope that is mounted at the stern. "Look," he orders Liz.

Liz obeys. The telescope works much like the binoculars on the Observation Decks. Through the eyepiece, Liz sees inside her house again. Her brother is kneeling in her parents' closet, his hands feeling frantically for loose floorboards. Alvy keeps mumbling to himself, "She said it was in your closet."

"Oh no!" Liz exclaims. "He's in the wrong closet. Alvy, it's in mycloset!"

"He can't hear you," Owen says.

Through the telescope Liz can see her father yelling at poor Alvy. "Get out of there!" her father screams, pulling Alvy by his shirt collar so hard that it rips. "Why are you making up stories about Lizzie? She's dead, and I won't have you making up stories!"

Alvy starts to cry.

"He's not making it up! He just misunderstood." Liz feels her heart racing.

"I'm not making it up," Alvy protests. "Liz told me to. She told me to " Alvy stops speaking as Liz's father raises his hand to slap Alvy across the face.

"NO!" Liz yells.

"They can't hear you, Miss Hall," Owen says.

At the last moment, Liz's father stops himself. He takes a deep breath and slowly lowers his hand.

Liz watches as her father slumps to the floor and begins to sob. "Oh, Lizzie," he sobs, "Lizzie! My poor Lizzie! Lizzie!"

The telescope image blurs and then turns black. Liz takes a step back.

"My father doesn't believe in hitting," she says, her voice barely above a whisper, "and he almost hit Alvy."