The Ups and Downs of Being Dead (15 page)

There were no tears pooling in those dark eyes, but her
voice wavered. “I just want to know if she’s going to be all right.”

“Of course you do,” Robert said, motioning for her to come
closer. “It’s really very simple once you learn how. The trick is not to think
about it.”

He passed through the door, then turned and poked his head
back out. “See?”

Fighting her trepidation, Suzanne eased up to the door.
“What if I get stuck?”

“It’s not like that,” Robert assured her. “You’ll see.”

With a determined set to her jaw, she charged forward,
expecting some resistance. When there was none, she staggered momentarily on
the other side to keep her footing.

The noise in the room startled them both. Half a dozen
medical personnel were chattering at once. Machines beeped and whooshed. A
doctor called out for ten cc’s of something and a nurse bumped into another as
she scurried to comply. It looked like one of those old Charlie Chaplin flicks
where everything moved slightly faster.

Now that Suzanne had gotten in, the chaos held her at bay.

“Shall I have a look?” Robert asked.

She gave him a grateful nod.

Why had he offered that? If there were any exposed organs or
protruding bones, he was going to lose it.

He edged his way toward the examining table, concentrating
on the medical staff rather than the injured woman. One of the doctors working
on the woman’s leg reported that her tibia had completely separated from her
kneecap. A different doctor confirmed that her arm was broken. A gaggle of
staff huddled at the woman’s head. She was unconscious, so there was talk of
head trauma, worry that swelling was already taking place. A CAT scan was
needed.

Suzanne slipped up next to Robert. She stared at the woman
on the table.

“A friend?” Robert asked.

“My daughter.”

“I’m sorry.” The comment sounded lame the moment Robert said
it. “They’re doing everything they can.” More lame blathering.

Wheels were unlocked, and the gurney was whisked out the
doors. Robert and Suzanne jogged to keep up. At least she wasn’t crying
hysterically. Either the shock hadn’t worn off yet, or she was holding her fear
at bay so she could follow what was happening.

It didn’t take long for the doctors to assess the damage
with an MRI. The daughter was back on a gurney and rolling to surgery.

That was when Robert skidded to a halt.

“I think I’ll pass,” he said. “But you can go on in.” He
waved an arm toward the surgical suite.

Suzanne stared at the door for a moment, probably
envisioning bloody incisions and exposed brain.

“I’m not sure I want to watch the surgery,” Suzanne told
Maggie. As if Robert had told her she had to.

Maggie gave her that sweet, little-old-lady smile. If she
could, she would have patted Suzanne’s hand. “I’m sure you don’t. But consider
this. If your daughter dies in there, she’s going to come out of her body just
like you did. She’s going to see the surgeons and nurses, but no one she
knows.”

A moan erupted, and Suzanne shifted fearful eyes to the
surgical doors.

“I’m not saying we have to watch,” Maggie said, her voice a
soothing balm, “but perhaps we should be there, just in case.”

Grateful for some direction, Suzanne nodded and followed
Maggie into the surgical suite. Robert decided he had nothing better to do and
joined them.

They hadn’t even gotten settled in a corner of the room
before Maggie started in with the twenty questions.

“I gathered from the conversations at the scene that your
daughter ran a red light. What happened?”

The woman had no tact. Robert expected a chilly stare from
Suzanne in response, but she was eager to spill her guts.

“It was all my fault,” she insisted. “I was arguing with my
daughter, Angie, and she got distracted.”

“What were you arguing about?” Maggie asked.

“Geez, Maggie,” Robert interrupted, giving Suzanne a moment
to regroup before she told Maggie it was none of her business.

But Suzanne rattled on like she was talking to her best
friend.

“Angie is a consultant with an auditing firm. She came to
St. Louis about three months ago on an assignment at a stock brokerage firm,”
Suzanne said. “She met Mark at the company and they’ve been seeing each other
ever since.” She shook her head. “I’ve never seen her so smitten. From the
moment I got off the plane, all she could talk about was Mark, Mark, Mark.”

Maggie egged her on. “But you have misgivings about this
relationship.”

“Yes,” Suzanne said.

She leaned closer to Maggie, like she didn’t want the
doctors and nurses to overhear. Or maybe she didn’t want Robert listening to
her complaints.

“The three of us went to dinner last night,” Suzanne told
Maggie. “It was awful. He was trying so hard to be charming, it was creepy.”

Charming was creepy? Maybe Suzanne got a little bump on the
noggin, too.

“How do you mean?” Maggie probed.

“I don’t know, just insincere. Like he was saying what he
thought I wanted to hear. And flattering Angie way too much. She knows she’s
not a ravishing beauty. So when Mark says things, like what a knock-out she is,
it throws her off. She doesn’t know how to react.”

She looked to Robert for understanding, but he didn’t get
it. He thought women always liked being flattered. With a slight shake of her
head, she swung back to address Maggie.

“I should have known better than to criticize Mark like
that, but Angie was falling so hard, so fast. I just wanted her to slow down a
little.” Suzanne’s voice cracked. “Angie was so busy arguing with me that she
never saw the light change.”

Twisting her head slightly, Suzanne tried to get a glimpse
of what was happening under the surgical lights without seeing anything.

“And now she’s fighting for her life because I couldn’t keep
from meddling.”

Ever the professional, Maggie steered Suzanne away from one
torturous subject to another. “Did she have boyfriends in high school?”

“Not really,” Suzanne said. “She was so shy. And smart. Not
a good combination in high school. But she did go to the prom.” She raised her
head and gazed off at some memory beyond the walls. “She looked like a princess
in her gown.”

Robert tuned out the rest of the conversation. He drifted
through the doors and ambled down the hallway, his thoughts on his own wife and
daughter. If Amanda had been in a similar situation, would she have told the
story of Rachel’s only prom night?

Rachel wanted to look for a vintage gown at Junkman’s
Daughter, but Amanda would have none of that. She dragged Rachel to Phipps
Plaza and insisted she choose a slinky silk jersey in a bold turquoise with
rhinestone straps. When Rachel came downstairs to greet her prom date, Robert
had to choke back a laugh.

She had stitched multi-colored scarves around the skirt like
a belly dancer, and had cut out a large diamond of jersey fabric in front so
her navel showed. Then she’d glued Froot Loops onto the rhinestones along the
straps. She even had Froot Loops dangling from the sheer square of chiffon that
she’d draped like a mask across her mouth.

Amanda’s rage brought tears to her eyes. And Rachel ripped
the wound deeper by twirling and posing there in the foyer. Her date, some kid
with spiked hair and a string tie that bordered on obscene, praised her
handiwork as genius. He even nibbled at one of the pieces of cereal on Rachel’s
shoulder strap.

When it became obvious that Amanda had no intention of
taking pictures, Robert wrenched the camera from her clutched fingers and
snapped several shots. He wondered now if the film had ever been developed.

By the time Robert got back, Angie was out of surgery. He
found Maggie and Suzanne hovering over the girl’s body in one of those glass
booths of the ICU.

The two women glanced up when he came into the room, then
turned back to Suzanne’s daughter.

Her head was wrapped in bandages like a turban; her face was
swollen. Under her eyes, dark blue bruises pooled and bled over the bridge of
her nose. There were lots of scratches, probably from shattering glass. A tube
inserted in her mouth was taped securely, and a machine breathing for her
whooshed steadily. Her left arm and right leg were in casts.

“Any news?” he asked.

“Nah,” Maggie said. “We won’t get any official report until
someone from the family meets with the doctor. And then I’m sure all he’s going
to tell them is that the next twenty-four hours are critical. It’s their
standard response to all questions because they don’t know what to expect
either.”

“So your husband is on the way?” he asked Suzanne.

She shook her head. “My husband died four years ago. My
parents are coming from Wisconsin.”

With a tip of her head, Maggie signaled for Robert to meet
her in the hallway.

“I’m going back to the center and tell Asa where we are and
what’s going on,” she said.

“What?”

She was going to leave him with Suzanne? What if the
daughter died? He’d be stuck consoling the grieving mother. On the other hand,
if he went with Maggie to the center, he might get stuck holding down the fort
with Foghorn Leghorn.

“Well hurry back,” he said.

Once Maggie disappeared, Robert stalled out in the hallway, watching
Suzanne through the glass. If he went back into the room, he was sure she’d
want to talk. What was he supposed to say? Of course, Maggie never said much.
She just listened, and whenever Suzanne ran out of steam, the old bat just popped
out another question. Now all he needed was a question.

Slowly, he eased through the glass, like some spy trying to
sneak past a sentry. It didn’t work. The moment he eased into a corner, Suzanne
looked up.

“I don’t get it,” she said. “Do you two just hang out at the
hospital to console dead people like me?”

“Oh, no,” Robert said. “It’s like Maggie said. We were
standing there when the accident happened. Although, I must admit, Maggie’s a
bit of a busybody. She likes to get right into other people’s business.”

“Is she your mother?”

“Dear God, no.” Robert shuddered at the thought. “The truth
is, we’re both in limbo…waiting to come back.”

Suzanne wrinkled her nose in confusion, and Robert proceeded
to tell her about cryonics. He had barely scratched the surface of perfusion
when she interrupted.

“So, will Maggie come back the same as she is now?”

Robert snorted a little chuckle. “We don’t really know, but
I’m sure if they figure out a way to bring us back, they’ll be able to fix the
wrinkles and sagging jowls.”

“I don’t know,” she said. “It seems like a real gamble to
me.”

“A gamble!” Robert blurted. “I was dead. Done. If I never
get thawed out, how will that be different from being reduced to ashes, or
getting buried in a box? Other than investing some of the money I
won’t
be spending any time soon, what
did I have to lose?”

Odd that he was defending his decision to Suzanne when he’d
been doubting his actions with Maggie just days ago.

“I guess you’re right.” Suzanne looked down at her daughter.
“If I’d known about cryonics, I might have gotten on the waiting list like you
and Maggie.”

“Believe me, it was just luck that I found out about it. But
mark my words. Something big will happen in the next few years and a lot more
people will be signing up for cryonics.”

“I wonder why I’m still here? Doesn’t it seem like I should
have gone to heaven or someplace? Or are there billions of ghosts wandering
around out there?”

“No, Maggie says you’re the exception. She thinks you’re
hanging around to make sure your daughter’s okay.”

“And then I’ll disappear?”

“I honestly don’t know,” Robert said, pondering his next
move. “Maybe you got some kind of 24-hour reprieve. You know, like if Angie had
died moments after you, then you two could cross-over together?”

Instead of wincing at his suggestion, her face smoothed into
serene acceptance.

“That’s interesting,” she said. “So the clock may be
ticking.”

Robert shrugged.

“Too bad.” Suzanne scanned her eyes across the room and out
into the hall. “I’d like to hang around. See what happens with Angie. See my
grandchildren.”

“No you don’t,” he said, but then regretted opening up that
conversation. He thought of a quick diversion to take Suzanne’s attention away
from family.

“I was CEO of the Audrey’s Corporation but now I’m a nobody
who’s stuck riding buses and staring at bad art.”

He suddenly had her full attention.

“You mean like Audrey’s clothing stores?”

“That’s the one.”

“Oh, my goodness,” she crooned. “I love to shop there. So
does Angie.”

Leaning back, she got a wistful look. “Your wife is so lucky.
I suppose she can walk into one of your stores anytime she likes and take her
pick.”

“To tell you the truth, she never wore anything from
Audrey’s unless she was modeling it.”

“Modeling it?” Suzanne did a double take. “What does that
mean?”

“I was married to the original Audrey’s Girl, Amanda
Litrell.”

Her jaw dropped.

“Oh, my.” A dreamy expression settled on her face. “I always
thought she was beautiful. All curvy and soft. Not like those bony models with
their sucked-in cheeks.”

“Yeah, well, after she had two kids she got a lot more curvy
and soft.”

Suzanne patted her stomach. “A lot of women put on a few
pounds after they have children.”

“A few pounds?! Amanda ballooned out like the Pillsbury
doughboy.”

The smile on Suzanne’s face sank into a scowl. Then her jaw
dropped, and she gasped.

“Wait a minute! She was just killed,” she said. “I saw it on
the news.”