The Ups and Downs of Being Dead (13 page)

“You did?” she said. “On Headline News?” Her head nodded as
she listened. “I know. I don’t know why I thought I could avoid this. I’m sure
they’re waiting right now outside security. I might as well get it over with.”

A pale rose color tinted her cheeks. “Early supper sounds
great.” Her blush deepened to crimson when she said, “I missed you, too.”

A boyfriend. How had Rachel managed to keep that bit of news
from Robert?

In high school, she’d always thought the boys were too
immature for her. She always insisted she was way to busy for their shenanigans.
It looked like she’d finally come around.

A gaggle of reporters was indeed waiting for Rachel. The
moment she stepped out of the corridor at the main terminal, cameras flashed,
and voices yelled for attention. She let the jackals swarm, bombarding her with
questions.

“When was the last time you saw your brother?”

“Did you have any idea he was capable of this kind of
violence?”

“How long has he been abusing drugs?”

Rachel raised both hands to fend off the reporters. When
they quieted, she said, “I love my brother, Robbie. I’m not defending what he
did, or even his lifestyle these past few years. All I know is, I can’t begin
to explain his actions, or encapsulate his life, in a ten-second sound bite for
the news.”

With that, she pushed through the crowd and marched for the
nearest exit.

Robert rode beside Rachel in a cab, pondering her statement
to the press. She was smart to express her personal feelings for Robbie, that
whole family-loyalty thing. Yet she’d succeeded in distancing herself from his
behavior and his actions. He liked that little zinger at the end. The media
always thought they could make perfect sense of any situation in ten seconds or
less.

When the cab exited the expressway at Tenth Street and
headed up Piedmont Avenue to Ansley Park, Robert reacquainted himself with the
established neighborhood. Most of the homes in Ansley Park cost a million plus.
He’d learned once at some benefit that the neighborhood was the first built in
Atlanta for automobiles. The winding streets curved around small parks, instead
of running in a grid to accommodate streetcars. Its location in midtown had
kept it trendy, and expensive.

So who was this new boyfriend? An attorney? A surgeon?

His house was a brick traditional with a professionally
landscaped lawn. And the fact that Rachel had her own key spoke volumes on the
relationship. The foyer had a small bamboo fountain and what looked like one of
those Asian serenity gardens. Through double glass doors, Rachel strode into a
cozy living room, set her briefcase in a chair, and smiled when she saw wine
chilling near a cluster of floor pillows in front of the fireplace.

A clink caught her attention and she wandered into the
kitchen. A woman stood at the counter arranging cheese on a plate, her straight
black hair hanging halfway down her back. She sensed Rachel’s presence
immediately and turned. The tight tee shirt she wore only accentuated her flat
chest. The low-slung slacks had no hips to grip.

“Hey!” She smiled, her Asian eyes crinkling. “You made good
time.”

“Yeah. I kept it short and sweet with the press. Although I
doubt if that’s the last time I get cornered.”

The Asian woman reached out an arm and Rachel slipped into a
comfortable embrace.

“No,” Robert groaned, taking a step back. “No.”

Rachel tilted her head down. The Asian woman raised her
chin. Their faces aligned. Their lips drew close.

“No.” Robert squeezed his eyes shut tight, envisioning a
tall, stainless-steel Dewar at the Cryonics Center.

Silence surrounded Robert. Cautiously, he raised his eyelids
to darkness. Ahead, he saw the familiar steel Dewars that held the preserved
bodies like his.

Spreading his arms wide, he embraced the closest cylinder in
a hug, and leaned his cheek against the metal to feel its coolness. He felt
nothing but heartache.

A jumble of thoughts clamored for purchase in his head, like
jump cut edits that were so popular in commercials.

The sudden bang from the gun. Rachel’s lips pressed against
the Asian woman’s mouth. Morgan’s hand in Robbie’s pants. Amanda’s golden hair
flying across her face as she fell to the floor. The snake tattoo slithering up
Morgan’s belly. Robbie’s trembling hand holding the gun. The splatter of blood
on the wall. Rachel’s hand entwined in silky black hair.

Most of all, Robert recalled that last desperate look on
Amanda’s face. Was it the final realization that she had failed as a mother? Or
was it the sorrow that her life was over, just as it was truly beginning? Could
it be that Robert’s decision to be cryonically preserved suddenly made sense to
her?

Even after he managed to banish the bloody images, questions
continued to parade through Robert’s mind in an endless loop. How long would
the nightmare of Amanda tumbling to the floor play in his head? Was he going to
spend the next seventy years reliving every second of Robbie’s screwed up life?
How would this whole sordid mess affect the Audrey’s empire?

He thought back on other controversial stories dragged
through the public opinion sewers: mostly sports figures or politicians cheating
on their spouses. There were a few rapes and shootings, even a couple murders.
But in this instance, neither Robert nor Rachel was remotely involved. He was
reminded of a quote:
You can choose your
friends, but you can’t choose your family
.

In the long run, Robert figured the press would be good for
business. Audrey’s might even get some sympathy shoppers. Clothing store
magnate struck down in the prime of life with cancer. Then his drug-addled son
implodes. Hopefully, Jackson Burke would leak a few of the details on Robbie’s
limited trust agreement. And emphasize how removed Robbie had been from the
rest of the family. Of course, the details of Robert’s preservation would now
be made public.

The media would have a field day with that just like when
Ted Williams had been frozen. At least Amanda wouldn’t be mocking Robert
publicly.

The burden of managing the press fell on Rachel now. And the
snowball would roll right over her life as well, dragging her relationship with
the Asian woman into the public eye. He accepted alternate lifestyles. Hell, no
one could work in the fashion industry and not be sympathetic, even outraged by
the discrimination against the gay population. So why was Robert having such a
hard time with Rachel?

“Robert?” The sound of Maggie’s voice startled him.

Great. He should have ducked into his Dewar the minute he
got back. Now he’d have to tell Maggie and Sam all about his dysfunctional
family.

An elderly gentleman hobbled behind Maggie, his stooped
shoulders taking a good six inches off his height.

“Hello, young fella.” The man’s voice boomed in the quiet
room. He extended a palsied hand to Robert.

“Asa Walker,” he shouted, “Grosse Point, patient number
sixty-three.”

Robert extended his own hand for an awkward non-contact
shake. Asa didn’t seem to notice.

“Robert Malone,” he said. “Patient number seventy-two, I
believe.” He glanced at Maggie. “Where’s Sam?”

“His class starts tomorrow so Asa agreed to come early to
relieve him.”

“So what brings you back to the Center?” Asa yelled. “Having
trouble with mobility? I know I had a heck of a time getting the hang of
walking through doors.”

“No, Asa,” Maggie said quietly. “Robert’s had some issues
with his family.”

When Robert flinched, Maggie gave him a sympathetic smile.
“There’s a television in the lobby. We’ve been watching CNN.”

“So, you’re the fella who’s wife got murdered,” Asa shouted.
“Nasty business. I’m going to talk to Stuart at our next meeting. We need to
forbid members from going home.”

“Don’t be silly!” Maggie snapped at Asa. “And stop yelling.
We can hear you just fine.”

She attempted to link her arm with Robert’s. “Come on. Let’s
go to the lobby and you can tell me all about it.”

Behind him, Asa was still babbling. “Before I’d even reached
the glass transition state, my wife had hauled off my Lay-Z-Boy, redecorated
the whole house. She joined a bridge club. She’s even doing yoga! At her age!”
His voice actually dropped a couple decibels. “I didn’t know she wanted to do
all that stuff? Why didn’t she just tell me?”

Maggie wagged a hand at Asa from behind her head to get him
to quiet down.

“Asa’s got some memory issues,” she told Robert. “And he was
stone deaf for the last ten years of his life. That’s why he talks to loud.”

She gestured for Robert to take a seat in one of the easy
chairs in the lobby. “He means well, though.”

“There’s really nothing to tell,” Robert said. “If you’ve
been watching the news, you know as much as I do.”

He refused to blubber about his family to this old woman. It
was too much like being on one of those embarrassing afternoon talk shows.

“Oh, Robert,” Maggie sighed. “So like a man. You’re all
about the facts, and determined not to reveal the tiniest emotion.”

“Look, I appreciate your concern,” Robert said, “but I think
I can handle this by myself.”

“That’s what they all say,” she said. “But you know, even
after I retired, friends and family came to me with issues and I did my best to
help them work through their problems.” She smiled. “It’s difficult to stop
practicing now.”

“I don’t need a psychologist,” Robert told her flatly.

“No. You need an impartial observer who’ll just listen. I’m
not here to pass judgment on you or your wife or your son. My job is to help
you sort out your feelings.”

Robert shook his head. How could he reveal such hatred to
this stranger? How his whole family was a bitter disappointment? Once he got
started, would he be able to stop?

He remembered his father standing at the front door as the
sheriff told him his wife had been killed in an automobile accident. He didn’t
gasp, or sob, or clutch his chest. His head just wavered, caught in some
meaningless gesture between a nod and a shake as the sheriff expressed his
deepest sympathies.

And when Robert broke down in tears and ran to his father
for comfort, all his father said was, “Stop that, now. Crying won’t bring her
back.”

“Let’s go for a walk,” Maggie said. “Asa can hold down the
fort.”

Before Robert could refuse, Maggie passed through the glass
front door, then stood on the sidewalk outside, waiting for him.

“Oh, boy,” Asa mumbled. “You’re in for it now. She won’t let
up until you tell her everything.” He bounced nervously from one foot to the
other as he stared through the glass.

“What if I refuse to go?”

Asa threw his head back in a guffaw. “Don’t worry young
fella,” he said. “You might feel like you’ve been hit by a bus when she’s done
with you, but you’ll be glad you got it all out.”

Slouching his shoulders, Robert joined Maggie. She wasn’t
condescending or smug, as though she knew he had no choice. She merely nodded
and started walking.

“Can I ask you something?” she said.

He turned his palms up in resignation.

“Were you there at the shooting?”

Robert nodded.

“It’s such a helpless feeling,” she said. “Seeing something
happen, and not being able to prevent it.”

Maggie strolled along with her attention directed to the
pavement as though she was on the look out for cracks that would have tripped
her up. At least she wasn’t staring at Robert, waiting for him to say something
profound.

“I’ve been a temp for a couple years now,” she continued.
“I’ve heard some heart breaking stories.”

“Yeah?” Anger forced Robert to tighten his jaw. “Were any of
them about a worthless coward who let his mother get murdered?”

“When were you first aware of Robbie abusing drugs?”

So much for Maggie just listening to him rant.

“Back in middle school,’ he told her. “He was smoking pot in
his bedroom with his friends.”

Maggie nodded, still focused on the sidewalk. “Did you or
your wife try any type of intervention?”

“Sure! I told Amanda she should take away his privileges,
and his allowance. He couldn’t buy that stuff if he didn’t have money.”

“And did she?”

“Heck, no!” Now Robert was really getting streamed. “She
never punished him for anything he did. Robbie was her angel, her…”

“And what did
you
do to rein in his bad behavior?”

Robert jerked to a halt. “Oh, sure. Here it comes. Somehow
this is all my fault because I didn’t discipline him, right? Let me tell you
something, every time I put my foot down, Robbie went straight to his mother.
She wouldn’t back me up.”

After hesitating alongside Robert, Maggie began walking
again, her head nodding as though she was putting it all together. Robert
followed.

“I decided that’s just the way things were,” Robert said
quietly. “My job was to support my family, just like my dad did.”

“Did your father take an active role in your upbringing?”
she asked. “Punish you when you were bad?”

“I wasn’t bad!” Robert said. “I got good grades, I stayed
out of trouble.”

“And did your father take you fishing, shoot hoops in the
driveway—”

“Are you kidding? My father was busy running a business.”
Robert snorted. “If you want to call it that.”

“What business was that?”

“Bobby’s Bargain Barn,” Robert said with a tisk. “It really
was a barn, made of metal, plopped at the edge of a cornfield on the outskirts
of town. Women filed in like cows to buy their cotton print dresses and sturdy
support shoes. Every piece of foundation was white. God forbid you called it
lingerie.”

“I guess that’s where you got your start in the fashion
industry,” Maggie said, the hint of a smile crinkling her cheek.