For All the Evers

by Debra Anastasia

  She wondered if Orbit had put in a less-obtrusive camera somewhere, and she paid extra attention to the vents and under the tables, thinking of the spy movies Fenn and Mitch had discussed on Sunday.

  When she’d finished, she took one last look at the mirror before closing the door and locking it behind her.

  ···

  Rather than dragging through the week focused only on returning to Thomas’ arms, this time Fallen spent time with his letters and drawings, tangible testaments to their dreams and a way to feel his presence every day of the week.

  He’d mentioned her to her brothers, always professing that he loved her and was serious about finding her. The small snippets of the war he shared seemed to be aimed at an audience already following new reports closely. She didn’t have the responding letters, of course, and she wondered what receiving these had been like for his family. Had they worried he was losing touch with reality? It had to be a concern. The human body and mind could only take so much.

  Fallen sorted the papers into happy and tragic on either side of her. She made time to investigate what she now knew—his rank, his platoon. But all she could find about him was the simple, basic entry on the website for Purple Heart recipients.

  There was no picture there, so on her second trip to the library this week she uploaded his military picture to provide a face with the name.

  By Wednesday night, Fallen still had no good plan for how to communicate his impending death to him. She tried memorizing the date in a sing-song rhythm and using various mnemonic tools, hoping she could trick herself or the dream world into letting her remember.

  The other issue was Desta’s funeral. She had no idea how to slip out and make it back to 514. Skipping her date was not an option this week, as this would be her last chance to warn Thomas about his death.

  Thursday morning, she dressed for work, bringing along a tote bag of nicer clothes for the funeral. She decided to take a simple approach: just claim to be sick and leave. This would be transparent to Mr. Orbit, but she had no other choice. She had to take the risk to tell Thomas.

  Fallen arrived at the hotel and learned Mr. Orbit had brought in a skeleton crew from one of his other hotels to keep the Revel functional. The regular staff would attend the service together that afternoon. So after they’d cleaned the most necessary rooms, managed the most pressing tasks, the crew took over, and everyone changed into somber attire.

  Fallen got a ride to the funeral parlor with 8 and 9, all the time wondering how she would be getting back. As she found her seat, she marveled again that Mr. Orbit had let the staff come. Truly, though, Desta’s job had consumed most of her life—that and a man she dreamed of. Without her coworkers, the room would have been largely empty. There were only a few neighbors and a nurse from the hospital. The casket was closed.

  When the proceedings began, the pastor seemed to have known Desta well, which was a comfort. Fallen could barely keep it together when the organ played, and 9 passed her a tissue. She felt selfish as she wiped her eyes. She should’ve been focused solely on Desta, but more and more, she was also panicking in her head.

  Orbit took the podium at one point and read a speech about loyalty and putting the company first, which seemed hollow, considering where they were.

  When the service ended, it was almost 3 pm, and Fallen’s nerves were shot. She needed to get back to the hotel. She texted her brother, asking if Mitchel might be able to pick her up, and he responded that practice had been canceled due to the rain, so they could swing by. Sure enough, as the doors were propped open, the pattering of rain filled the lobby.

  She managed to avoid eye contact with Mr. Orbit by picking at invisible lint on her skirt. She stepped outside when she saw Mitchel’s car approach and didn’t look back, even when she thought she heard her name. Rather than joining those who would follow the casket to the cemetery, Fallen would return to the room and keep her appointment with a dream. As sad as it was that her friend was no longer in this world, she knew Desta would understand.

  “Hey, I think that guy wants your attention.” Mitchel caught her eye in the rearview mirror.

  “It’s probably my boss. I don’t want to talk to him.” She put her hand in her hair and pulled it to cover her face.

  “No worries, baby doll. I got you.” He gave her a cheesy wink, and she almost smiled.

  Fenn reached into the backseat to pat her shoulder. “I’m sorry about your friend. Do you want to go home?”

  “No. I’d actually like to go back to work, please.” She pointed in the direction of the old building when they got to the main road.

  “You sure? If I get off for the day, we play.” Mitchel was flirting with her, she realized. She wouldn’t have noticed if not for the murmured threats from her brother in between every word.

  “Desta loved the hotel. I feel like I need to pay my respects there—just some quiet time in her favorite room.”

  Her explanation seemed valid enough, and the boys were respectful the rest of the way, falling silent like they too were in a funeral procession.

  When they let her out at the front of the hotel, she told her brother not to wait up; she would be late as usual. Then she thanked them for the ride.

  She heard Fenn telling Mitchel that she obviously already had a boyfriend as she shut the rear door.

  It took everything in her not to run immediately to 514. She’d tucked her master key into her tote and had the broken fork with her as well. The substitute guy at the front desk just nodded politely as she went past.

  In the birdcage, she wondered if she should grab the picture for camouflage, but with the camera being gone, at least as far as she could tell, she wouldn’t know where to put it anyway.

  So Fallen would go without. She passed two guests on her way and addressed them politely out of habit, realizing only as she unlocked the door that she wasn’t dressed as an employee.

  Her simple black dress was a steal she’d found for ten dollars two years ago. When paired with her one pair of black heels, she could make it to funerals and weddings without looking out of place.

  She slipped off her jacket as she walked in, letting it land on the floor.

  Fallen jammed the fork in the lock and slid the broken part through to secure the door from the inside.

  It would have to do. And she still wasn’t sure she would be able tell Thomas what she needed to. At least she’d made it to spend time with him—unless Mr. Orbit had done something to the hotel room.

  She forced herself to stop imagining what he could have had done to the room.

  As she sat on the bed and swung her heels up on to the comforter, she touched Thomas’ name on her arm. Soon she would see him. And then her gaze fell to the pen on the desk by the pad of paper.

  Ink. Thomas’ writing had moved with her from world to world. It had been right in front of her the whole time. She already felt groggy as she crawled off the bed and snagged the pen.

  She went to write the information on her palm, but thought better of it. She could wake up looking at Mr. Orbit on the other side. It would do no one any good for him to see the message she was trying to convey to Thomas.

  She pulled at the neckline of her dress and pushed her bra aside. If she was lucky, Thomas would be the only one to see this part of her.

  Forcing her eyes to focus, she scribbled:

  KIA May 7th, 1945

  And then there was only blackness.

  Chapter 23

  Crazy Talking

  Fallen opened her eyes to see her dress melt into white satin studded with sequins and gems. She ran her hand over it and reveled in its softness on her lap. Then she raised her eyes to take in the room. She sat at a makeup table, and her reflection could have been on the cover of a bridal magazine. Her skin was flawless, and her hair cascaded over her shoulder, swept to the side by an elaborate clip.

  Her gown was strapless with a full skirt. A woman entered the room covered in a black lace veil, and Fallen looked down again.
This was a wedding, and she was the bride. The engagement ring from Lad had appeared on her finger again, and her throat went dry.

  She was getting married to Lad.

  Oh God.

  And that’s when she noticed the writing on her left breast. She pulled her hands to her chest and looked at the reflection in the mirror to see if the woman had seen. It was impossible to tell because her lace veil masked her face.

  The woman patted her on the shoulder with a gloved hand and walked over to fluff a thin, white veil. It was obviously intended for her head.

  Fallen could see her handwriting peeking out from under the dress. This was a problem. She couldn’t have Lad asking questions about…well, she couldn’t bring to mind what it said, just that it was important. For Thomas.

  Fallen wanted to see if it was as bad when she stood up. She hiked up the dress as best she could, but it was still visible. The black-veiled woman came over and tisked her.

  “You got some writing there.”

  Fallen gasped, recognizing the voice. “It can’t be…”

  The woman lifted her veil. “Sure it can, honey!”

  “Desta! Desta, you’re here!” Fallen threw her arms around her. She looked years younger without her glasses, and her voice no longer sounded like she gargled with asphalt in the morning. “I’ve missed you so. And I was so sad. Does that mean this is heaven?”

  Desta put her finger to her lips. “No, it’s not. But I got to make a pit stop here. If you wish for something hard enough, I guess it happens.”

  “Have you seen Burt?” Fallen rubbed her hands up and down the woman’s arms, trying to wrap her mind around this latest crazy turn.

  “Not yet, and I don’t know how long I have. I gotta find that guy and take him with me! Let’s get some concealer on that tit S.O.S. you got there, just so it doesn’t call attention.” Desta grabbed the stick of makeup necessary for the correction and then looked back at Fallen’s face, her thick veil over thrown back over her shoulders. “Girl, you crying for old Desta?” She grabbed a tissue and blotted it under Fallen’s eyes.

  “Of course. This is a great surprise. I’m happy to see you.”

  It was surreal to have the woman whose funeral she’d just attended apply makeup to her boob.

  “Is Lad here? He was going to the…” And then her brain did the blank-out thing the dream side was famous for.

  Desta seemed to understand. “He’s not here yet. But he will be. You being here sets him off. Somehow he always knows.”

  “Okay.” Fallen looked at her reflection and the note she couldn’t quite convince herself wasn’t visible anymore. “I don’t want to marry Lad.”

  “I know, baby. And I’m going to help you as long as I can. Just make sure not to say I do to a man you don’t love. Remember that. Can you do that?” Desta gave her an urgent look.

  Fallen nodded and helped Desta replace her veil as the doorknob clicked and rattled.

  They were all set when Lad waltzed into the room in a full tux with tails.

  “Ladies.” He stopped in his tracks and bit his index finger, looking her up and down.

  “My bride. You’re stunning. How jealous all the other men in the world will be as soon as you’re mine for good. Come here and give me a kiss.” He pointed at the floor.

  “I can’t mess up my makeup,” Fallen responded.

  The air grew thick and awkward.

  “This is really bad luck. Out with you,” Desta chided, using a fake accent.

  Now that Fallen knew it was Desta, she was amazed that Lad didn’t recognize her. But he showed no sign of it as she shooed him out the door.

  Fallen waved as Desta pushed Lad into the hall and shut the door behind him.

  Desta moved her veil aside once more. “Fallen, I love Lad, I really do—despite all his shortcomings. But I can’t let someone else miss their true love story. I hope you guys make it out, like Ellen did.”

  Fallen wanted to say so much, ask so much, but the words wouldn’t come. Instead she hugged Desta again.

  “Okay, I’m going to get out there and look for your Thomas to make sure he gets in the building. Good luck.” Desta covered her face and left Fallen in the room to pace.

  There was a bouquet of hydrangeas on the table by the door. Fallen picked them up. Although they were a ball of tender colors, in the waking world she was allergic to the scent of them. But so far no sneezing here… She checked her dress again and made sure the words were hidden. She’d just decided to take another look to jog her memory when someone knocked on the door.

  She tentatively called “Come in,” and a huge smile spread across her face when she saw Burt on the other side.

  “Did you see her?” Fallen rushed to his side.

  “I’m here to walk you down the aisle,” he said formally.

  Fallen was stunned at his lack of acknowledgement. She had a horrible feeling Desta was in love with a man who didn’t recognize what a gift she was.

  But as they stepped into the hallway, she realized Lad was within earshot. Fallen took Burt’s offered arm and squeezed it.

  When Lad nodded and stepped down the hall, Fallen realized they were in a church. Burt took her in the opposite direction.

  When they seemed to be alone, she yanked on Burt’s arm until he put his ear near her mouth. “Did you see her?”

  Burt looked at her like she was speaking another language. “Who?”

  Once they stepped into the foyer of the church, Fallen handed Burt her bouquet. “I have to go check for something.”

  She had every intention of running from the church the second she opened the huge front door. But as she reached for the handle, two tuxedo-wearing men stepped in from the sides. She was so focused on her escape, she hadn’t seen them in the shadows.

  “Going somewhere?” the larger one asked.

  “I just wanted to make sure my friend arrived,” she semi-fibbed.

  They shook their heads. “Everyone is accounted for,” the other one said. “Now they’re just waiting for you.”

  She lifted her dress and walked back to Burt, who handed her the bouquet again.

  The traditional wedding march suddenly resonated through the church, and Fallen didn’t even have a chance to take a steadying breath before the interior doors parted to reveal her to the waiting crowd.

  Burt patted her hand on his elbow. “Let’s go.”

  Fallen felt claustrophobic as the crowd stood and turned to face her. Some were snapping pictures. There were far too many people—more than she had probably ever met in her life. Lad stared her down with an intense gaze that was tinged with victory. And then he licked his lips.

  He reminded her of an alligator. She was his prey.

  Fallen looked to the two doors on either side of the altar. They were both guarded by men equally as burly as the ones by the front exit. She had no way out.

  Burt walked her the rest of the way. He left her veil in place, but offered a hand to Lad who shook it. Then Burt took her bouquet out of her hands.

  Lad held out his hand with a cocky smile. “You’re going to love this.”

  She reluctantly put her hand in his, like it might burn her. Once her palm landed against his, he clamped down on her fingers.

  “Gotcha.” There was no playful wink. He was literally telling her he felt he’d won.

  The minister started to speak their vows almost immediately. No build up.

  “Do you, Lad Preston Orbit, take Fallen Billow as your bride from this point forward to have and to hold, for better or for worse, until death does you part?”

  Lad stepped closer and gripped her hands to stop her from taking a retreating step. “I do. Until death.”

  Fallen got chills at his intonation. She looked over her shoulder and then over his. No sign of Thomas.

  She might have to save her own damn self right about now.

  “Very well. Fallen Billow, do you take this man, Lad Preston Orbit, to be your forever love from this moment in time, fo
r better or worse, until death does you part?”

  Fallen felt like she was on the tracks and a train was coming at 100 miles per hour.

  No. I can’t. I won’t. This isn’t what I want, she said in her head as Lad answered for her.

  “Of course she does. I’m a catch.” And then he pulled her against him for a biting kiss.

  The crowd gasped, and possibly the only thing that could have stopped Lad happened.

  A dead woman came back to life.

  “Lad, step away from her. You know she doesn’t want this.”

  Lad succumbed to the pressure Fallen exerted on his chest and stepped backward.

  He looked past Fallen to Desta. Fallen turned and watched as the woman threw off her veil.

  Before Lad could respond, Burt whooped and dropped Fallen’s bouquet. “My Desta? You’re here?”

  And Desta went from angry to delighted. “Burt, you big lug! I’ve missed you.”

  Burt hurried around the pew to get to her, almost pushing over the tuxedoed guard protecting the exit door.

  Burt kissed Desta like they were alone, and like they weren’t a day over twenty.

  The crowd in the church seemed flustered, but the slurred emotions on their faces made Fallen wonder if they were on drugs or something.

  Lad put his arm around Fallen. “Don’t think of going anywhere, wife.”

  “I never said yes. I never said anything. And it doesn’t count if I don’t do that,” Fallen informed him. She really hoped her words were true.

  Lad frowned before pointing. “How is Desta here?”

  “How are you here?” Fallen grumbled.

  Desta pulled away from Burt and touched his cheeks, kissing his chin, then his nose. “Give me a moment, my love,” she told him. “Then we’ll have forever.”

  “That’s fine, but I’m not letting you out of my sight.”

  Fallen wiggled out of Lad’s arms as the crowd started murmuring.

  Desta and Burt crossed over to meet Fallen and Lad.

  Lad held open his arms, and Desta stepped into them.

  Lad closed his eyes and put a kiss on the top of Desta’s head. “Seeing you here is fantastic.”