An Unusual Occupation

by M. L. S. Weech

  “That the deaths were natural or accidental,” Kyle said quickly, as if he meant to argue, but Wilks spoke over him.

  “No murder, no murder suspect,” he said calmly. He was the summer sun in the sky. Richard and Kyle could stand and yell at it all day, but they’d only get sunburned.

  “Sir—” Richard began, against his better judgment.

  “No murder, no murder suspect,” Wilks slowly said again. Richard half thought Wilks was trying to train a dog. “Drop the issue. Now get out.” Richard got out, but he had no intention of letting Drifter go.

  22

  Performance

  October 13, 2006

  Nick is watching me more and more closely each day. I try to keep a low profile, but it’s so close, I can’t avoid some things. The more I do to prepare for what’s coming, the more he seems to be there.

  I didn’t think it would be this hard. I thought it’d be easier for me this way than it has been, but now I just have more to worry about. My job and this family seem to pull me apart. Maybe it’s just because I know I’ll be leaving soon. Maybe I feel guilty. But why should I? I didn’t ask to come here. My phone rings; I get a job; I go do it.

  I got a letter from Drisc that wasn’t encouraging, either. “You’re fucking crazy,” he said. Maybe so, but I had to try. I don’t want to feel like any life was wasted. Now it’s time, and I have to do what I came here to do. For the first time, I find myself apprehensive. What I do is as natural as breathing, but something’s different. It is, of course, my fault. Indeed, I brought this frustration upon myself, and now I have no one else to kick for it.

  Lights, camera, action! Bob was overjoyed at seeing the number of participants who had signed up for the talent show. Apparently, his speech about the talent show a few days ago had inspired about fifty of his students to add their names to the list. This brought the total number of performances to eighty-two.

  Maybe you did something right, he told himself.

  He escorted the Taylor family to a seat in the third row in the gymnasium at Oak Mountain. Cheryl wore a sensible black skirt with a light-blue blouse. Mike and Bob both decided to wear business-casual attire. Mike wore a brown jacket with a black tie, while Bob chose a black jacket with a teal tie, his favorite, and lucky, color.

  Nick wore a pair of jeans and a polo shirt. “It’s a rock concert,” he said, to explain the polo shirt.

  “David isn’t the only one performing.” Mike laughed.

  “He’s the only one I’m here to see,” Nick countered.

  The first row was reserved for the three judges. Principal Markrich, his thinning hair combed to the right, sat in between two teachers Bob hadn’t met. He heard that one, a woman with only slightly grayed hair, was the band’s director and the other, a woman with dark hair and an attractive frame, who looked almost young enough to be a student, was head of the Performing Arts Department.

  The Taylor family was one of dozens that packed the Tiger’s gym. Of the 328-odd students attending the school, Bob imagined about 174 families had come to watch their children, or a friend of their children perform.

  The school’s colors, purple and gold, were dominant in the stage design. Purple carpets with gold trimming lined the aisles that led to the stage. A series of lights swung around the stage as families filed to their seats.

  The talent show began, and Bob was happy that the greater majority of the performances were very well done, considering the average age of the students. After each performance, the three judges would give their scores by holding up a card with a number between one and ten. The host of the event and president of the student body, Joseph Cadriano, would average the three scores and announce it to the audience.

  Bob felt an odd lump in his throat. Why was he sweating? He had all the confidence in the world in David.

  “He’ll do fine,” Nick whispered. “And even if he doesn’t, he’d never blame you.”

  He knows I’m worried I let David down, Bob realized.

  All the lights in the gym went out.

  “I’d like to thank Jesus Rodrigo and Karen Beachwood for providing the drum and bass tracks for this song,” David’s voice said from the darkness. The crowd met his comment with a polite applause.

  Karen helped him? Bob thought to himself.

  “He said he wanted it to be a surprise,” Nick explained. “He said ‘Chicks who play bass are hot.’”

  Bob guffawed at the comment.

  The crowd’s applause died down. A single spotlight cut through the darkness and shined on David. The crowd launched into applause, and a good number of female students whistled their approval.

  David wore a black dress jacket with the sleeves cut off. Apparently, he’d decided to take a risk and burn the dress code before he got on stage. An old Pearl Jam shirt hung untucked under the jacket.

  David’s hair was the same chaotically organized mess it always was. He wore matching slacks and topped the “business grunge” outfit off with a pair of faded sneakers.

  In an instant, David looked at the people in the crowd who whistled and clapped. The young man smiled, and all of Bob’s apprehension faded.

  David began his familiar strum-pluck-pluck-pluck rhythm, and the crowd quieted down. David let a measure pass before he smiled again and put his mouth in front of the microphone to sing:

  Keep saying

  Why do this today?

  It doesn’t matter anyway.

  It can wait.

  Bob noticed Cheryl grab her husband’s hand. Nick lightly tapped a finger in time to David’s strumming. David’s pattern repeated and he took a breath.

  Keep saying

  There’s no need to rush a thing.

  It’s not important anyway.

  But why wait?

  Bob felt a chill run down his spine the instant David slammed a foot on his guitar pedal and the lights in the gym burst on. Someone had timed the drum and bass track perfectly as everything came together in an explosion; a wall of sound slammed into Bob and everyone else in the audience.

  But what if I should lose you somehow?

  What if I should never come back?

  I just can’t think of this ever ending.

  I can’t imagine I’d never see you again,

  But what if this world stopped spinning?

  What if tomorrow never comes?

  The last lyrics came as David stomped his pedal again, and the crowd erupted to its feet. Bob tried to tell himself that the audience’s approval of David was no more or less than it was for the previous performers, but the teacher’s pride wouldn’t allow the thought to stick.

  Nick leaned over again just before David began his next verse. “I like this part.”

  “You heard this?” Bob asked in shock. Cheryl slapped Bob’s shoulder. He’d have yelped if he weren’t afraid he’d get a second blow.

  David began to sing his next verse:

  Keep acting

  Like tomorrow’s guaranteed.

  It’s a sure thing to be.

  So I’ll just be.

  Bob stole a second to look around. He noticed Jesus Rodrigo, a student in his fourth-period math class, playing air drums. Karen sat next to him, but her eyes were glued to David on stage. Bob had seen plenty of young girls in love, and if his guess was right, Karen was pooled in the palm of David’s hand.

  Keep pushing

  The things I want to do away.

  It’s not important anyway.

  So why try?

  As the chorus came, Bob could hear the crowd’s cheering rise in anticipation.

  As soon as David sang the final line in his chorus, the lights went out again and David was center stage, spotlight shining. Bob noticed Nick was on his feet. A moment later, Bob realized he was the only person sitting.

  David effortlessly changed his chord progression.

  Thinking I might

  Try one last chance.

  Hoping today

  Just might be the day.

  Wh
at is the point

  Of this thing we call life if we never even try?

  What if today

  Never comes again?

  Bob didn’t care if he looked like an idiot. Favoritism be damned, he thought to himself as he started to sing the chorus along with David. He was pleased to see that he wasn’t the only one. A good number of the people sitting around him, including Jesus and Karen, decided to join in as the gym lights blared to full power.

  David finished the song with the same strum-pluck-pluck-pluck rhythm he started with, and the lights dimmed to a normal level. Bob noticed that David shook in his sneakers. He hoped there was at least some anticipation in the boy’s nervous shake. The three judges looked at one another. The band director smiled and held up her card displaying a 9.5.

  The crowd jumped to their feet. Cheryl and Mike shared a long kiss, and Bob whistled his approval of the score, not the Taylors’ public display of affection.

  Markrich nodded his head and held up his card displaying an 8.5. A large number of students began to boo and hiss.

  “Are you crazy?” the theatrical department head asked. She threw up her sign reading 9.9, and the crowd jumped again.

  In a flash of confidence, David swung his guitar all the way around his neck and tossed his pick into the crowd. That moment, Bob smiled to himself.

  That’s two successes. It didn’t make Bob forget his failures. It didn’t erase the image of that girl in the pool. It only made him hope he had made the right choice to help David. Even someone like me can do something kind.

  David’s 93 percent was tied for the highest score until a similar act, a senior Bob didn’t know, scored a 95. Markrich took points from David for the outfit, Bob thought to himself, steaming. The other boy was good—very good.

  The top three performers came back on stage, where the audience would decide the victor.

  The student-body president started with the top-scoring student. The crowd erupted and Bob thought his ears would explode. Some students started chanting the boy’s name, “Chris, Chris, Chris,” over and over again.

  Bob’s head sunk for just a moment. He saw David from the corner of his eye. The young man was smiling, and his student’s head was held high. I’m sorry I doubted you.

  David’s turn was next. Bob wasn’t sure how loud anyone else was. A certain family next to him overpowered the other forty-nine rows in the gym. Cheryl screamed at the top of her lungs. Mike started his own “David” chant, and with the help of Karen and Jesus, a good number of people joined in.

  Is it cheating? Bob wondered.

  Bob closed his eyes and focused on the people around him. He wanted to reach into them and work his charisma. He wanted to Manipulate their feelings but decided against it.

  No, he’ll succeed on his own, Bob thought to himself. He felt a bit ashamed at the thought. He could feel the crowd. He still held onto their feelings without affecting them. It was close.

  The third act, a rather impressive illusionist, received a respectable amount of applause, but it was clearly between David and the senior, Chris.

  They repeated the process. Bob let go of the surrounding people’s emotions for fear he’d be tempted to Manipulate them anyway.

  Bob wasn’t sure where she got it, but Cheryl pulled a blow horn from her purse and squeezed with all her might. The gesture seemed to clear all doubt as the crowd raised its applause another decibel. David had won.

  “That’s definitely two,” Bob told himself.

  The crowd continued to cheer as Markrich brought out a medium-sized trophy and handed it to David. David was quick to shake hands with the talented senior he had narrowly defeated. Chris, to his credit, was quick to smile at David, and the two congratulated one another for a well-played show.

  David hopped off the stage and rushed to give his family a hug. The male Taylors and Bob had to wait for Cheryl to have her turn before they had a chance to say anything. Karen and Jesus appeared not long after David. Cheryl told them she had some snacks at her house and everyone was invited for a party.

  Bob made an effort to politely decline, but David—and strangely enough to Bob, Nick—wouldn’t hear of it. So the small group set out for the Taylor home for an impromptu party.

  Traffic on a Friday night in the Phoenix area wasn’t ever enjoyable for Bob, but the 101 Loop made the trip a bit faster. Most of the select individuals invited to the party arrived about twenty minutes after they left the school, with Bob being the last to arrive.

  He was happy to see that Karen had brought her bass, and an encore performance by the complete band was the first order of business. Jesus was limited to a countertop, a book, and metal lid, but he didn’t seem to mind. No one listening seemed to mind Jesus’s makeshift drum set any more than the percussionist.

  Cheryl passed out drinks and snacks to everyone. Drew would waddle to one guest, enjoy a treat, and then approach another guest as if he’d been starved for months.

  David told the story about how he organized his performance. Apparently, he went to Karen first. They knew each other from the junior jazz band, so he trusted her to help him. Bob noticed David was more comfortable around the girl. He still had a small, shy smile if she got near him, but he didn’t fidget so much anymore. It had come down to the day before the talent show and David still hadn’t found anyone to help with a drum track.

  “So I took a chance,” David said. He explained that Jesus was the only freshman in the school to make the senior jazz band.

  “I handed Jesus a recording of the song and asked him to see what he could do,” David explained.

  Jesus was more than happy to help. As it happened, the young man had an electronic drum set, which allowed him to create a CD of the song complete with a drum track.

  “You should have all played together,” Mike said. Bob agreed.

  “It wouldn’t have worked,” Jesus said. “It’s one thing to play along with a recording; it’s another thing to play live. If we had more time, I would have done it.”

  Apparently, it was the drummer’s idea for David to perform alone. It had something to do with the chemistry and timing. Bob didn’t understand any of it, but he accepted the explanation as if he did.

  Bob almost missed Nick sneak out the sliding glass door that led to the backyard. Bob smiled to himself and went out to sit with the senior Taylor.

  “I know who you are,” Nick said.

  Bob was caught off guard by the comment in more ways than one. Not sure what Nick was talking about, Bob didn’t know how to respond.

  “You know who I am?” Bob asked. Nick smiled at Bob in the most unusual way.

  “You don’t know about Vietnam; you remember. Every time you’re around, the pain in my joints go away right after you touch me. Do you have to touch someone to do it?” Nick spoke so fast that Bob didn’t know which comment to respond to.

  “You’re not making any sense,” Bob lied.

  “Don’t patronize me, Bob,” Nick said. “I thought I was crazy until that day we went fishing. You were there, either at that Buddy Holly concert or where the plane crashed, but you were there, and you remember it like it was yesterday.”

  “The crash,” Bob whispered before he could stop himself. The memory betrayed him. The line of torn field leading to a pile of wreckage that looked more like a giant ball of metal than a plane. The memory of watching the plane crash and a body fly from the wreckage consumed him. Bob stayed quiet. He tried to pretend he hadn’t even said anything.

  “It’s getting harder to get up in the morning,” Nick said. “I should have mowed the lawn today, but I couldn’t get the energy.”

  “Maybe you’re just tired,” Bob suggested. The conversation was dangerous and he knew it.

  “I thought that might be true.” Nick paused in thought. “Then I thought about when you first got here. You said you were older than you looked. You weren’t kidding, were you? I’m not sure how I know, to be honest, but I do. You’re the Angel of Death.”


  Bob’s head sank. He had one simple task with a few simple rules, and he’d broken most of them in less than a month. Rule number one: don’t let anyone discover what you really are. Bob couldn’t deny that Nick was right—well, about the part that mattered. Bob was just amazed at the fact that Nick knew. He began cursing himself for taking too many risks.

  “There isn’t any reason for you to be afraid,” Bob told Nick.

  “I know,” Nick said. “I’m ready.”

  “That’s not what I mean. I’m not here for you, Nick. I’m here for him,” Bob said as he nodded in the direction of David, who was throwing food in the air for Drew to catch.

  This time, Nick shook visibly. In that moment, Bob saw a proud, honorable man crumble under the weight of sadness.

  “It can’t be him,” Nick said.

  “I’m not the one who chooses whose time it is,” Bob said.

  “Then who does?” Nick yelled. Bob couldn’t help but look around. There was a certain need for anonymity in his job, and although he didn’t want anyone to think Nick was crazy, Bob didn’t want anyone else to learn his secret, either.

  “I don’t know who does,” Bob replied.

  “How can you not know?” Nick asked. The tears started to pour from his eyes.

  “Listen, I don’t pick people. I don’t wake up on any given Monday and decide it’s your time, or his, or her time. I don’t get to choose. I know nothing about the way death works.”

  Bob spoke in a rush, and he felt a little more anger than he had realized at first. “You called me the Angel of Death earlier,” Bob said in little more than a whisper. “It wasn’t entirely accurate. I’m not Death, and I’m certainly no angel. People live, and people die. They will live and die whether I’m there or not. What I do is make sure the mark they have to leave on this world is left.” Bob’s heart was breaking for the man next to him, who appeared ready to beg if needed.

  “Take me instead!” Nick pleaded through teary eyes.

  “What would be the point in that?” Bob asked. “You’re acting like I have a choice in this again. I don’t. I just try to make it easier.”