At Witt's End

by Beth Solheim

  "Anything to prolong your agony, Sadie. You know my day's not complete until I make you miserable. Oh, and by the way, it's going to get worse."

  Ignoring his face protruding through the opening, Sadie crossed her arms over her chest and stared through the windshield at a dead dragonfly that had taken one flight too many.

  "I'll wait all day if I have to.” Carl leaned his elbow on the door and scanned the seats in the van. He gave an exaggerated wave. “I suppose you've got a full load today."

  "There's not a soul in here but me. I'm going to tell everyone you're waving at my imaginary friends."

  "You be sure to do that. It adds fuel to my lawsuit. What judge would rule in favor of a crazy woman?"

  After flicking a piece of lint from the dashboard, Sadie arranged the rearview mirror so she could check her image. She fluffed her spiked hair and turned her head from side to side before tapping on her ear lobe to set an earring containing zebra, leopards, and a menagerie of wildlife in motion. She cocked her head toward Carl. “You still here? I thought you'd be out chasing real criminals instead of preying on the elderly."

  Carl placed a foot on the first step. “Get it out. Get it out right now.” Beads of sweat formed along the brim of Carl's cap from the sun beating down on his dark uniform.

  "Get what out?” Sadie said.

  "It's so sad when old people become babbling idiots. Your Alzheimer's must be in full bloom.” He put a hand on his raised leg. “You know what I want. Get it out.” Carl leaned closer to the petite five-foot driver.

  "Oh yippie. It's frisking time.” Grinning, Sadie started to unbutton her shirt.

  "What the hell are you doing?” Carl backed down one step.

  "I know what you want.” Sadie leaned toward him. Spreading her zebra stripe shirt, she said, “I'm ready."

  Flinching as Sadie rose from the driver's seat, Carl shouted, “Sit down. Button your shirt."

  Sadie pouted. “No frisking today?"

  "I wouldn't frisk those saggy old breasts if you were the last woman on earth. I couldn't stoop that low."

  Smiling, Sadie dropped back into the seat. “Maybe not. But it might bring back memories. Don't you remember the times you practiced becoming a deputy by frisking my daughter? Everyone comments on how she resembles me."

  "That's disgusting,” Carl said. “Your daughter is nothing like you. I remember every inch of her body."

  "I'm sure you do.” Pleased that Carl accepted the bait, Sadie added, “Don't you just love those old memories? And doesn't it just kill you that she dropped you flat on your face when she caught you two-timing with Bubbles Borque?"

  The flush creeping over Carl's face matched the deep red embossing on his cap. He removed his hat and ran his arm across his forehead. “For your information, I was the one who planned on dumping her. Bubbles made it easier."

  "Is that why I heard you crying outside her bedroom window night after night? You sure know how to beg."

  Carl tugged his cap back into position. “Get your driver's license out."

  "Not until you tell me why you pulled me over.” Ever since Carl had filed the lawsuit, he made a point of pulling her over every time he spotted the shuttle van. “I haven't broken any law. What's the charge?"

  "Same thing as last time. It amazes me someone as ancient as you still doesn't know the rules of the road.” Without looking up, Carl wrote on the ticket. “Of course senility tends to do that, doesn't it? I think you need your driver's license revoked.” Carl's gaze skimmed the bill of his cap and he looked up at Sadie. “I think I'll talk to Judge Kimmer about that, too."

  "You're a good-for-nothing piece of sperm that didn't have the sense to quit swimming,” Sadie shouted. Reaching under the driver's seat, she pulled out a ruler and waved it in Carl's face. “See this? I'm going to prove I didn't stop too far past the stop sign. I'm going to put an end to your harassment. I have no intention of paying the last two tickets and I don't intend to pay this one, either."

  Descending the van steps, Sadie got down on her hands and knees and placed the ruler on the pavement. “There. Look at that.” Waving at anyone who would listen, Sadie raised her voice. “Everybody look. Look at this ruler. This deputy is trying to give me a ticket for stopping too far ahead of the stop sign.” Cupping both hands around her mouth she shouted, “Harassment. Blatant harassment. This deputy is preying on the vulnerable elderly."

  "You idiot,” Carl said, yanking Sadie up by her arm. Pushing her back toward the van's door, he put his mouth near her ear. “Get back in that van before I arrest you for causing a riot."

  "Riot?” Sadie looked back over her shoulder as Carl squeezed her arm. “Seems to me everyone's avoiding you, not me. I'm a harmless old woman.” She massaged the pain in her arm caused by Carl's grip. “I hope this turns black and blue so I can show my attorney what you did to me."

  Carl's gaze zeroed in on the reddened area. “That's nothing compared to what you'll feel the day I escort you off my property after the judge rules in my favor."

  "That will never happen.” Sadie sat behind the steering wheel and glared at Carl. “You can make up all the lies you want about your grandfather, but you'll never get my land. Isn't it enough you got his money when your father died?"

  "Not nearly enough,” Carl spat. “Have you decided on a nursing home yet? You're going to have to go somewhere when I escort you off my property. Think of the fun you'll have playing Bingo while you piss in your pants. That should give you something to look forward to.” Pushing further into the van he added, “Come to think of it, I'm going to have to evict old man Bakke, too. I hear you don't charge him rent. I'm not going to give him a free ride."

  "I'm not worried. Judge Kimmer will rule in our favor."

  Spittle flew as a hearty laugh burst from Carl's lips. “You really are stupid, aren't you? You're not one of Kimmer's favorite people."

  "Then I'll ask for another judge."

  "Won't help. The only other judge is retiring next week and the court calendar is full until Thanksgiving. Too bad."

  Sadie pulled on the door lever and the panels closed against Carl's body.

  Carl stopped the closure with his elbow and pried the door open. “My grandfather wanted me to have the resort. Your mother got him to sign over the deed by using sex. Everyone knows that. They also know that after granddad died, your mother ran the resort as a whore house."

  "That's a lie, Carl Swanson. She did no such thing."

  Carl interrupted. “For all I know, you're doing the same thing. But that will end soon.” Releasing his grip, Carl added, “Be sure to take your imaginary friends with you when you go. I don't want people thinking I'm crazy, too."

  Sadie tapped the face of her watch. “You just wasted twenty minutes of our tax payer's time. If you'd put that much effort into proving the Fossums were murdered, you might get someone to vote for you."

  Carl stopped mid stride. “What did you say?"

  "Lon thinks it wasn't an accident."

  "Lon better keep his mouth shut. And so should you if you know what's good for you."

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  9

  -

  "Don't come any closer.” The whispered warning was barely audible. Aanders hugged the counter and stared at the image. Through eyes glazed with fear, Aanders looked from the body lying on the embalming table to the pale image coming toward him. “I said stay there."

  Tim moved closer to the embalming table, but hesitated when Aanders turned in withdrawal. “Please don't leave.” He reached for his friend. “Please stay with me."

  Unable to grasp the situation, Aanders blurted, “This can't be real. You can't be talking to me if you're dead.” He squinted to bring the image into focus. “Are you dead or not?” The last word rose to a high pitch as Aanders saw Tim step closer.

  "Yes,” Tim cried dropping to his knees. The twelve-year-old rocked in place, sobs pulsing through his body. “I'm dead and I didn't go through the light with Mom and
Dad."

  "What?” Aanders bent down to look under the table toward Tim.

  "I'm dead. I died in the car with Mom and Dad. We were murdered."

  "Murdered? You weren't murdered. It was an accident.” Aanders pointed toward the heavy steel door. “Your mom and dad are over there in cold storage. But what do you mean you didn't go through the light?"

  "I was held back.” Tim hugged his arms to his chest and looked up at his friend. “I need to find a way to go back through the light so I can be with Mom and Dad."

  Aanders looked back at his friend's body on the embalming table and then at Tim crouched on the floor. “This can't be real. Wait till I tell Mom."

  Sniffling, Tim scooted over to the wall. “You're not going to believe any of this, but boy do I have a lot to tell you. It's just like one of them scary movies."

  Aanders backed away from Tim.

  "Don't be afraid,” Tim said. “Even though I'm dead, I'm still your best friend. Nothing bad will happen if you still like me."

  Scowling, Aanders drew closer to Tim. He made sure he left a four-foot span between them.

  Tim held his arm out. “Touch me."

  "No way.” Aanders leaned away from the outstretched hand. “I'm not going to touch a dead person who's talking to me."

  "Why not? It's no different than those bodies your mom prepped last week. It'll feel just like that.” Tim lunged forward and placed his hand on Aanders bare arm.

  Aanders jerked his arm away. “Don't do that. Your hand's as cold as snow.” Looking from Tim to the body on the embalming table, he said, “Quit scaring me.” Aanders squared his shoulders. “I don't have to stay here and be your friend if I don't want to. I might take Belly upstairs and watch TV."

  "Please don't go,” Tim said. “I wanted you to touch me so you'd believe what I have to tell you."

  Aanders appeared to look straight ahead into the darkness, but scrutinized his friend's every move out of the corner of his eye. He slowly unfolded his fists and inched his fingers across the span. He stopped when his finger butted up against Tim's hand. Mustering the courage to continue, he placed his hand on top of Tim's hand. “Wow. You feel just like that old man that got his leg caught under the mower and died in his yard. Remember that?” Aanders rubbed his index finger on the back of Tim's arm. “Mom says a dead person's skin is clammy. You're clammy, all right."

  Tim felt Aanders’ arm and then his own. “You're right. I am."

  Aanders settled back against the wall, this time closer to his friend. “I guess that means you're dead."

  "I already told you that.” Tim watched Belly plop down between them and roll onto his side with a muffled grunt. He kneaded his fingers through Belly's coarse hair as he drifted off in thought.

  Aanders hugged his knees to his chest and took advantage of the reprieve to contemplate this new revelation.

  "The stuff I'm going to tell you will freak you out.” Tim rose to his knees and faced his friend. “It's freaky that I'm dead and at the same time I'm talking to you. But what's freakier is you can see me. You don't realize what that means.” Bouncing on his knees toward his friend, Tim added, “Man, are you in for a shock."

  "You already said that. Nothing can shock more than a dead person talking to me. So what's the big deal?"

  "Don't you think it's weird you're talking to a dead person?"

  "Yaaahhh.” Aanders rolled his eyes. Tim was his best friend, but he had a way of going on and on without ever getting to the point. “It's weird all right.” His gaze shot toward his friend as he gasped, “Don't tell me I'm dead, too!"

  "I never thought of that,” Tim said. He took Aanders hand and ran his fingers over it. “Nope. You're not dead. Your hand is warm."

  Belly snorted to remind the boys he was in attendance. He rolled onto his back. His left leg twitched as he wriggled back and forth, trying to find a comfortable spot on the tile floor.

  Aanders pulled the dog near and rubbed his cheek over Belly's head. “You were trying to tell me he was down here, weren't you?” Tears brimmed in Aanders’ eyes as he looked at his friend. “What am I supposed to do now?"

  "Because I'm a crosser or because you're a death coach?"

  "Because you're my friend and now you're dead. Who am I going to do things with? I don't want a new best friend. I want you to be my friend."

  Tim and Aanders had become fast friends when they sat next to one another in kindergarten. Tim's Mom had been supportive of the friendship and encouraged Tim to include Aanders in their family outings after Aanders’ father had abandoned his responsibilities. Other mothers had not been as supportive. They discouraged their sons from forming a relationship with the son of a mortician. Their whispered reasons included the mortuary being an improper place to entertain friends, or the fact that it was unnatural for a woman to ask her son to help with funeral preparations. Aanders childhood inched along a steep incline.

  Tim leaned his head against the wall and looked at Aanders. “That probably won't matter once you hear what death coaches do."

  "You keep saying that. What's a death coach?"

  Aanders scowled as Tim finished explaining what he had learned during Sadie's round table sessions. “How do you know all this stuff?"

  "I told you. I learned it from Sadie. She explains it after we come back."

  "Come back from where?"

  "The nursing home or the hospital. She takes us there in the morning and picks us up before supper. We're supposed to seek out the dying so we can cross back over with them. But first we have to make a death decision."

  "You believed her?” Aanders said. “Everyone knows she's crazy. At least that's what they say.” He paused. “Everyone except Mom. She thinks Sadie's a nice old lady."

  "I knew you wouldn't believe me.” Tim hugged his knees and rested his chin on one knee. “It's so freaky I didn't believe it at first, either. If you come to Cabin 14, you'll see all the crossers. There are five of us living there."

  "Five dead people?” Aanders said with a gasp.

  "Yes. There's a man in a suit who has a briefcase he won't let anyone touch. And there's a mom and a boy there too. The mom sits and cries all the time. She gets on everyone's nerves."

  "What about the fifth dead person,” Aanders said.

  "That's Rodney. He's mean. I'm afraid of him, but I don't think the guy in the suit is. The guy in the suit talks funny."

  "Like how?"

  "I don't know how to explain it. He sounds kinda like the President when he's talking about important stuff on TV. You know. He uses big words."

  "Does Rodney punch the other dead people?"

  "Sadie won't let him,” Tim answered.

  Aanders struggled to grasp the information Tim had shared. “Can Mom see the crossers?"

  "No. She's not a death coach. Sadie told us only death coaches can see crossers."

  "That makes Sadie a babysitter for dead people.” Aanders watched Belly paw at Tim to get his attention. “But Belly can see you. Is he a death coach?"

  "There's so much to remember, I forgot to tell you about Belly.” Tim picked at the four black hairs on Belly's tail. “Animals and death coaches can see the dead."

  A sly grin formed as Tim said, “Man, is Sadie going to be surprised when she finds out you can see them, too. She told us there weren't any other death coaches in this part of Minnesota."

  "I'm not going to her cabin. I don't want to be a death coach.” Straightening his back, Aanders said, “I'm not going anywhere to be with a bunch of dead people."

  "Well I'm dead and you're with me. And you've got dead people in your house all the time."

  "That's different."

  "No it's not. What's the big deal? You don't need to be afraid."

  "I'm not afraid.” Aanders’ shout echoed through the embalming room.

  "You are, too. If you won't go with me, then you're a big chicken."

  Belly stirred at the outcry and thumped his tail vigorously against the floor.

&nbs
p; "I'm not a chicken,” Aanders said, cupping Belly's face in his hands. He pressed his nose against the dog's forehead.

  "Then prove it."

  As intriguing as the challenge was, Aanders felt his throat fill with acid. Over the years he had listened to rumors of Sadie's imaginary friends and had witnessed her waving her hands and talking into the wind as she stood on her porch. Now he understood why. He was cursed with the same powers. Sadie might be their babysitter, but he refused to take care of dead people.

  Aanders pulled at his shoelace and flicked at Belly's ear with the stiff end of the lace. “Do you really have to make a death decision?” Gazing at Tim out of the corner of his eye he saw him nod.

  "I either have to go back through the light or go to the parallel world. I don't want to leave you, but I have to find Mom and Dad. They'll miss me if I go to the other place."

  "But they're in cold storage over there,” Aanders said, pointing toward the walk-in cooler.

  Tim sat with his legs straight and tapped his feet together. “That's just their bodies. Mom and Dad aren't in those bodies anymore. Their spirits went through the light when they died. I saw it happen.” His body vibrated in rhythm with the tapping of his toes.

  "You couldn't stay with me instead, could you?” A tinge of hope flickered across Aanders’ face.

  "No. Sadie said I don't have a choice. If I don't go through the light within thirty days, I'll fade away all together."

  "Like a ghost?"

  "I don't think so. Sadie said it meant I'd disappear into the air like campfire smoke. I'd never see my parents again."

  Aanders swiped at a tear as it rolled down his cheek.

  "I'm going to miss you, Aanders.” Tim rested his hand on Belly's back and edged it toward Aanders until their hands touched. A sob escaped as Tim hid his face against his knees.

  "Me, too. I still can't believe you're going to be gone for real."

  "Me neither,” Tim said, wiping his cheeks across the denim covering his knees. “We can still be together until I have to go."

  "Really?"

  "I bet you didn't know I slept in your room last night."