by J. L. Murray
“Come on, Bobby,” I said. “Let's go get some air. This is Sofi's funeral.”
Gage looked at me through clouded eyes. “I can't,” he murmured. “I can't ask you.” He looked at the room as if seeing the people for the first time and looked back at me. “Jesus, Niki, I'm sorry. I shouldn't be here.” He backed away from me towards the door shaking his head.
“Bobby, wait,” I said. “It's okay. Just tell me what's wrong.”
But Gage shook his head. “I'm sorry,” he said again. Then he turned and ran out the door.
Yuri and I looked at each other, dumbstruck. “What the hell was that ?” he said.
“I have no idea,” I said. I ran out after Gage, just in time to see his old New Yorker peel out of the parking lot. As I went back to my seat, ignoring the stares, I looked for the guy in the fedora. But he was gone.
When the service was over, I walked to my beat-up little car alone. I had nearly fallen asleep during the sham of a service, and I still had to get through the reception Karen had planned at my apartment.
“Niki,” I heard a man's voice calling. I turned to see four figures coming toward me across the parking lot. Lou Craig waved. Walking beside him was Olivia Bradley and her daughter. Craig's own daughter trailed behind her father. Olivia smiled at me tentatively as she approached.
“Hey, Niki,” said Craig.
“Oh, Lou,” I said, my voice sounding as tired as I felt. “I'm sorry, I know I owe you for staying with Sofi. Things have been...” I trailed off, successfully holding the tears in this time. “You know how it is.”
“No, that isn't what this is about,” said Craig. “Don't worry about that. I got plenty of money these days.” Craig's daughter stared at me from behind her father. Her dark blond hair was cut in a bob. She couldn't have been more than twelve, but she had a haunted, gaunt look. I remembered Craig saying she was an Abby.
“Oh,” I said. I looked at Olivia. I hadn't seen her since that night. Gage and I had convinced her to flee in the middle of the night. An hour later, her house had been burned to the ground. “Hey, Olivia. Didn't expect to see you today.” I frowned.
Olivia smiled nervously. “Niki, I've been trying to call you. I didn't mean to impose. I know this is a difficult time for you.”
“It's fine,” I said. “Sofi never wanted a funeral.”
“She was a fine lady,” said Craig. “Real sorry for your loss.”
I smiled thinly. “Thanks, Lou. She liked you.”
“Niki,” said Olivia, “I just wanted to give you something.” She bit her lip. “I don't know if it's appropriate or not.”
“What's all this about?” I said, too sharply. I closed my eyes. “I'm sorry. I'm really tired.”
“It's okay,” said Olivia. She looked at her daughter for a moment. The girl smiled at her mother. She was older than Craig's daughter, and had a more well-adjusted look to her. “It's just that, since Frank died I came into a little bit of money.” She laughed and looked slightly embarrassed. “Of course it's too soon for the inheritance to come, but the house was in my name, too. Apparently Frank never did take me off.”
“Oh,” I said. “Good for you. You're better off without him, anyway.” I looked quickly at the girl. “Sorry,” I said. “He was your dad. That wasn't a nice thing for me to say.”
“My dad was a tool,” she said, her voice all attitude.
I smiled. “He kind of was.” I looked at Olivia. “So why are you telling me?”
She looked at me like I was slightly stupid. “Niki, you saved my life.”
I smiled. “Olivia, it's no big deal. I just did what anyone would do.”
“No,” she said. “I would have died that night if it wasn't for you. I'm not going to let you be modest about this.” She put an arm around her daughter. “I would have died that night if it wasn't for you.”
“I can see you've made up your mind about this,” I said. My head was starting to throb.
“I'll just get to it,” said Olivia. She pulled a thick envelope out of her large handbag. “I got you something.”
“Got me something?” I said. I looked at Craig, who shrugged. His daughter was still looking at me. She may as well have been a ghost. Craig had his arm around her, but she didn't seem to notice.
“I figured you might not take money,” she said. “And Lou told me about your bad luck lately. What with your father and all. I'm so sorry about that. Then losing your job. And now this.”
I narrowed my eyes at Craig, who found something interesting to look at on the pavement. Craig knew very little about what I really did. Gage and I told him that Sam, our employer, had died. And that was all he knew. As far as he knew, I was just an unemployed detective.
“I'm sorry,” said Olivia. “I'm ruining this.”
“Mom, would you just freaking tell her?” came the irritated voice of Olivia's daughter. I raised an eyebrow and couldn't help but smile.
“Sorry. Right,” said Olivia. “I bought you your apartment building.” She thrust the envelope at me. I stared at it.
“What?” I said.
“Well, I thought you might need the income. And I would just give you the money, but Lou talked to your partner, Bobby, and he said that you wouldn't take money. He said you'd be offended.”
“So you bought me a building?” I said, stunned.
“Well, I know that in times like these, it's nice to have something to fall back on,” said Olivia, uncertain. Her cheeks were crimson from embarrassment. “I had my parents and Piper here. And I thought it might be easier for you if you could just...you know...stay.”
“Look, Olivia,” I said, “that was really nice of you. But you saved your own life. I just made a suggestion. You don't owe me anything.”
“Yes, I do,” she said. She wasn't embarrassed now. Her eyes had gone steely. “I owe you everything.”
“I don't want it,” I said. “Just keep it.”
I turned to go, but was stopped by voice, full of teenage belligerence. “Don't be an asshole.”
I looked quickly to see Piper, her hands on her hips.
“Excuse me?”
Olivia's eyes had gone wide. “Piper, no.”
Piper grabbed the manila envelope from her mother's hand. She marched over to me and thrust it at me. I grabbed it without thinking about it. “It's bullshit,” she said, her pretty little face a younger copy of her mother's.
“What's bullshit?” I said.
“You,” she said. “If it weren't for you, my mom would have burned up. Lou said you grew up with your grandmother or whatever. So I guess you didn't have a mom. Is she dead?”
“What of it?” I said, narrowing my eyes at her.
“If someone would have saved your mom, wouldn't you want to show them how much it meant to you?” The girl's face was angry, but tears were welling up in her eyes. She was barely a teenager, yet had lived through more than most people her age.
I was silent for a moment. “Yeah, I guess I would,” I said finally.
“So just take it,” she said. Her anger faded. “Please. You're the reason we're still a family.”
I looked at the girl for a long time. Finally I nodded. “Okay,” I said.
“Fine,” said Piper. But she smiled at me.
“I like you,” I said.
“I guess you're okay,” she said. “When you're being reasonable.”
I took a breath and walked over to Olivia. “Thank you,” I said. “It was a very kind gesture.”
Olivia looked pleased. “If you ever need anything, I'd love to help.”
“Okay,” I said. “I don't know how to get hold of you, though.”
“You know how to get in touch with Lou, don't you?” she said.
“Yeah,” I said slowly.
Craig shrugged. “We're sort of together,” he said. Olivia took his hand pointedly.
“No shit,” I said. I stared at the two of them. They were the strangest couple I'd ever seen. She was in her early thirties, tall, and ha
d been extremely beautiful when she'd met Frank Bradley. Their time together had aged her, but she still had the look of rebellion from her college days. I could see where her daughter got it. Lou Craig, on the other hand, was a short potbellied ex-prison guard with a big heart.
“Congratulations,” I said.
“That's the other thing I owe you for,” said Olivia. She kissed him on the cheek.
“Well, I didn't see that one coming,” I admitted.
“Neither did I,” said Olivia, smiling. “But you can't choose who you fall in love with.”
“I guess not,” I said. I took a step towards Craig's daughter. I couldn't remember if he had ever told me her name. She flinched, and I stopped. “It gets better,” I said. She stared at me, her big green eyes wide and frightened. “It's hard at first, especially at your age, but it does get better.”
“Penny don't say much,” said Craig. “It's been a hard couple of years for her.” I saw Penny glance at Olivia, narrowing her eyes only for a split second. And I understood. Olivia had been married to the father of New Government, Frank Bradley. He had created the Registry, and all the bile that followed had been his fault. And her father was in love with his widow.
“If you ever want to talk,” I whispered, “come find me.”
Penny blinked at me. After a few seconds she furrowed her brow. “What's it like?”
“What's what like?” I said.
“Dying. Being Death. All of it. Does that get better, too?” Her voice was quiet, almost a whisper.
“I don't know yet,” I said honestly.
She nodded as if that satisfied her. “At least you're honest.”
“It won't be like this forever,” I said.
“You're wrong,” she said. “They'll always hate us.”
“Maybe,” I said. “But it's just jealousy.”
“Jealousy?” she said.
“We're special,” I said. “And they're just normal. And I think that bothers some of them.”
“It doesn't change anything.”
“It does if you make it,” I said.
THREE
I could feel the dead pulling at me by the time people gathered in my apartment. It was increasingly painful. Like a dull knife pushing slowly from the inside out. I kept my glass full of alcohol. It dulled the sensation, but I could still feel it. I needed to go to work.
Everything about the funeral had been fake. Plastic. Sofi would have hated it. The gathering afterward wasn't any better. Karen had cleaned the apartment until it didn't even look like the same place anymore. The kitchen gleamed on every surface, there was not a speck of dust on any of the shelves, and she had even replaced the old quilt we kept on the couch with a pristine white slipcover. I think she even had the carpet shampooed. The small kitchen table was heavy with food, and – to my relief – there was about a dozen bottles of booze on the counter, along with mixers like soda and juice. I ignored the mixers and went right for the whiskey, taking the whole bottle. It wasn't my favorite brand, but it would do.
Yuri and his men had not come, which I thought was pretty classy of him. Though I would have liked to talk to anyone. The people that did come were a few old gals from the neighborhood, and a lot of people I didn't know. Karen was apparently friendly with them. Middle-aged men and women that talked politics and laughed loudly at stupid jokes. No one talked about Sofi. No one even looked in my direction except for Karen a few times; but I suspected that was just so she could keep an eye on me.
After an hour and four drinks I stood up and walked towards my bedroom. I could at least get a few hours' sleep while people guffawed and pretended to be sad for someone they hadn't even known. I stopped in the hallway and looked at the door of Sofi's room. Clutching the bottle, I turned and went in, closing the door quietly behind me.
Her room was just as it always was. Knick-knacks all placed just so across her dresser, photographs lined across the top of a shelf, lace curtains prettily pulled back with ribbon. I sat down on her bed and closed my eyes. If I stopped my brain just right I could pretend she was still alive. She was just out in the living room and would come through that door with a smile when she saw me, maybe even scold me for rumpling her bedspread.
“I miss you, Sofi,” I whispered to the air. “Who's going to keep me human now?” I drank from the bottle, tipping it up to my lips and swallowing deeply. I felt the tug in my chest subside, replaced by a pleasant warmth. I sighed in relief.
The door opened and Karen came in, closing it quietly behind her. She sat down next to me and we both sat in silence for a moment.
“You hate all this, I know,” she said.
“She would have hated it, too.”
Karen nodded. “I know. But it's not for her. Funerals are for the living. The people they leave behind.”
“I suppose they are,” I said.
We were quiet for a long moment, the low rumble of voices muted through the door. “I've always been jealous of you,” she said.
“What?” I said, surprised. I finally looked at her. “Why?”
She smiled, embarrassed. I hadn't seen her smile in years. “She loved you. I mean, really loved you. She loved me because she had to, but we never really got along. But she took you in and you really loved each other. I never had that. I don't think I ever have.” She glanced at me. “I guess I haven't always been very nice to you. But things have never come easy for me.”
“Things don't come easy to anyone,” I said.
“I'm sorry about your dad,” she said. “I didn't know him, but I know it's hard to lose a parent.”
“He was an interesting man,” I said. I frowned into my hands. “I feel like I was just getting to know him.”
“How did he die?” she said.
I thought of Sasha. Of the flaming sword slicing him in two. Of trying to find his face in all the blood and crying because I couldn't find it. I realized I was tearing up. I wiped my eyes with the back of my hand. “Hunting accident,” I said.
“Oh.” She swallowed heavily and I took another sip out of the bottle, offering it to her. Karen shook her head and smiled. “I'd be on the floor if I drank that.” Her smile faded and she frowned. “Do you think you'll stay? In the apartment, I mean.”
“I don't know,” I said. I didn't tell her about Olivia's gift. I was still sorting out how I felt about that. “It was Sofi's place. It always was. Everywhere I look I see her.” I smiled at Karen's astonished expression. “Not literally see her...”
“Of course not,” she said, looking away. She stared at the window, deep in thought. After a long moment she spoke. “What happened, Niki?”
“What do you mean?” I said.
“Last spring everyone fell asleep. For days we slept. Everyone. And I don't mean to be rude, but that sort of seems like your world. Do you know what happened?” She looked away from the window and looked at me. “I really need to know.” There was desperation in her eyes. I thought about what it must be like to be a Normal. And for the first time, I felt sorry for Karen. It would be worse not knowing than anything New Government could do.
“Yeah,” I said. “I do.”
“Well, what was it? What happened?”
“You wouldn't believe me if I told you.”
“Please, Niki,” she said. “Whatever you tell me I swear I'll believe you. I just want to know one true thing. It seems like everything's made up these days. What happened?”
I hesitated. “It was almost the end of the world,” I said.
She looked at me suspiciously. “Are you messing with me?”
I smiled. “I knew you wouldn't believe me.”
She bit her lip, deep in thought. After a moment, she spoke again. “I believe you.”
I nodded and closed my eyes. “A lot of people died, Karen. Good people and bad people.”
“Your father,” she said. “That's how he really died?”
“He died trying to save us,” I said. “All of us. He was a hero in the end.” I pushed my hair of
f my face and took another drink from the bottle. “And someone else died too,” I said softly. “A good man. He died to save me. To save everyone. He saved the whole damn world. It wasn't even his world, but he saved it anyway. And no one will ever know it. He was so damn good.” I shook my head as if I could shake the tears away.
“You loved him,” Karen said. She was staring at me.
I smiled sadly. “I don't know. Maybe I did. It was all so fast.”
“Love always is,” she said.
“I suppose that's true,” I said. “I guess I hadn't felt it before, not really. I didn't think something that was supposed to be so good could feel so bad.” I looked down. “I'm a mess.”
“You're grieving,” she said. She examined me. “Things are different for you.”
“What's that supposed to mean?”
“I'm not being condescending,” she said. “I just mean that it's different for you than the rest of us.” I shook my head, uncomprehending. Karen shrugged. “We just go along with our boring lives. We pay taxes, we buy things, we do what we're told to do. We're scared all the time. But you, you can't ignore it, can you? You get shoved in the middle of things all the time. I know you don't think I know, but I can see that strange things go on. And you're always there. And that's probably a very good thing. You see what's going on better than I do. Clear as day, maybe. And you can't look away. But what's more, you're not afraid.”
“I am afraid,” I protested. “I'm goddamn terrified.”
She looked me over. “No,” she said. “Not like other people. I think you get sad. Overwhelmingly sad. And I think you're angry. But not afraid. Not you.”
I was quiet for a long time. Finally I looked down at my hands. “It was my fault,” I said so quietly that I wasn't sure she had heard me.
“What was your fault?”
“That man I told you about,” I said. “It was my fault. He's gone and it's because of me. Because he loved me.” My hands blurred as I looked at them and I felt hot wetness on my cheeks.
