by E. C. Bell
“You really don’t get this, do you?” she said, stopping so suddenly I almost ran into her. I jerked to a stop, suddenly afraid of what I’d find if I walked into her misty form.
“No,” I said. “I don’t get any of this. It wasn’t our fault we ended up here. We talked about this!”
I felt frantic. She was my sister, for God’s sake. We’d grown up on these streets together. She had to remember. She had to stay.
“Eddie, my dear, we both wasted a lot of time—our lives, to be exact—blaming others for what happened to us. We could have done something good with our lives. Maybe even something noble, but we didn’t. We hung out here and got high. Every day. And blamed our fathers. Every fucking day. We never moved on from that moment in time. It’s like we were trapped in amber.”
She was right about that. We had done that. Blamed our fathers. Even after I’d figured out that mine wasn’t that bad—not as bad as hers, anyhow—I’d still played the blame game. Because after the blame game, we got high.
“But this is the next part,” she said. “We aren’t bound by the rules we made for ourselves anymore. Well, I’m not, anyhow. I promised myself if I ever got out of this mess, I’d do something that meant something. No more blame game, no more waste. No more hurting myself to shut out what happened to me when I was little. I want to live, Eddie. Really live.”
“But you’re dead, Noreen.” I wished I could hold her hand. Wished I could hold her to me, because I could feel her slipping away, even though she was standing right beside me. I even reached out my hand, but pulled back when I saw bright little lights forming around her.
“I know, Eddie. But I’ve decided to give life another go.” She smiled at me, and even with the foam, it was a sweet smile. Finally, there was no anger on her face. She looked ten years younger than she had alive.
Twinkly lights began to buzz around her like fireflies. Most were white, but some were red, and blue, and there were even a couple of black ones. They flitted around her, covering her in sparkle. It was pretty and frightening, all at that same time.
“What’s going on?”
“It’s time for me to leave.”
“But I want you to stay!” I wailed those words, sounding like a fucking kid. And then I did start to cry. I couldn’t help myself. “Please stay with me.”
“I don’t want to,” she replied, the number of flitting lights growing and growing, until it was hard to see her in the middle of it all. “And you shouldn’t want to stay, either. This part is done. For both of us, Eddie. Just make a decision, and then let the rest of it go.”
Her voice was getting as misty as her body, if that makes any sense. It was like she was talking to me from a long way away, even though she was standing right in front of me.
“What do you mean, make a decision!” I cried. “Please! Stay!”
She didn’t answer me. As the snowstorm of flickering lights flew around her, she reached her hands up over her head and laughed, delightedly. It was the happiest sound I’d ever heard come out of her mouth the whole time I’d known her. It didn’t even sound like her, to be honest.
And then I could no longer see her in the light.
“Noreen!” I screamed.
I ran toward the spot where she’d been, and the bright lights stung me. I waved my arms to drive them away. As I waved, they disbursed, flying up into the still autumn sunlight. Then everything about Noreen was gone, and I was truly, truly alone.
I dropped to my knees, and then onto my face on the dusty grass. A siren announced the arrival of the ambulance finally coming to take away Noreen’s body, but I didn’t give a shit. I just lay facedown on the grass, and I cried.
AFTER I PULLED myself together, I went back to Marie’s office. I had some serious questions for her.
The big problem was, she was gone for the day. And from the way that James guy was banging around, I took it that there’d been a fight. Another one. I didn’t quite figure why these two even hung out together.
“Either lay her or move on,” I muttered when I heard him hammer on the computer keyboard and curse. “You are letting her wind you up way too much, man.”
Of course, he didn’t answer me. He couldn’t hear me. All he could do was squint at the computer screen, tap away at the keys, and curse a steady stream.
I went to the window and watched the living out doing their thing as the sun slowly set and the black took over.
Noreen had been right. Needing the drugs was definitely all in my head. I had been without a hit for almost a day, but I felt nothing past sadness. I was pretty sure this had a lot more to do with Noreen dying than with me not being high.
So why hadn’t Marie told me about this? If she had, I wouldn’t have bothered getting high. Maybe. At least I would have known I had a choice about it. Back when I was alive, I never felt like I had a choice. It was either get high or get sick. And nobody wants to get sick.
“You should have told me,” I muttered, staring out at the black and listening to James hammer away at the keys, then finally lie down to sleep on that cot in his office. “You should have explained all of this to me.”
I had a feeling I was playing that blame game again. All right, so Marie hadn’t told me, but someone had, and now I knew. So why didn’t I just make a decision about what to do with a brand new life or brand new next stage, or whatever the hell it was that I had, and disappear in a cloud of white lights, just like Noreen had?
Short answer? Because I wanted to give Marie hell. She should have told me what my options were. Told me I even had options. Given me a hint about any of it. I shouldn’t have had to wait for my street sister to die to understand what was going on in my own death.
“Bitch,” I muttered under my breath as I watched the streets slowly come alive with those of us who inhabited them after the sun went down. “You shoulda warned me about all of this.”
Marie:
Maybe Drinking Isn’t the Best,
When Life Is Going to Hell
I WOKE UP when the alarm went off, reached over to shut it down, and fell off the couch. I hit the rug with a thunk that rattled my skull and reminded me just how much scotch Jasmine and I had consumed the night before.
“Unhh.” My head swam, and I stayed on the floor for a minute, trying to get my bearings. Luckily the alarm—which was actually in Jasmine’s bedroom and nowhere near me—was now off. All I heard was softly playing cartoon music, with the occasional “Boinng!” thrown in for good measure.
I opened one eye, and saw Billie, Jasmine’s youngest, parked in front of the TV with a big bowl of some sort of cereal, eating enthusiastically.
He glanced over at me, saw my open eye, and smiled. “Can I turn it up now?”
“Sure.” I put one hand under me, and then another, and slowly pulled myself more or less upright. “What are you watching?”
He named some cartoon I’d never heard of, and I watched with him for a minute, until I was certain that I could actually navigate to the kitchen without falling down again. Then I got up and shakily walked through the big doorway, holding onto the wall as if it were my best friend on earth. Which, at that moment, it was.
Jasmine was up, drinking coffee and reading the newspaper. She grinned at me wickedly.
“How you feeling?”
“Horrible.” I shuffled my way to the cupboard and pulled out a cup. “The coffee smells good, though.”
“My special blend.” She glanced at the paper, then back at me. “Want something to eat?”
“Nope.” I poured a cup and shuffled over to the table. “Quite possibly, never again.”
“It was good scotch though, wasn’t it?”
I groaned. “Don’t remind me.”
She laughed as she pushed the cream and sugar in my direction, then went back to her newspaper.
“What are you reading?” I asked.
“There was another death at that park downtown,” she replied. “Looks like this one was an overdose, though.” She sighed sharply an
d turned the page. “I don’t understand why they don’t just close that thing. A waste of prime real estate, if you ask me.”
I stirred my coffee, wincing. Even the tinkle of the spoon on ceramic hurt my head. “I may not survive,” I muttered.
“You will, girl. You know you will.”
“I don’t know if I want to,” I said. My voice sounded sullen and whiny. “Do you have orange juice? Maybe that will help.”
“In the fridge.”
The orange juice tasted fabulous, and my headache abated. Not gone completely, but certainly no longer taking off the top of my head. Then I remembered why I’d decided to drink so very much the night before and groaned again.
“James is so mad at me,” I said. “What am I going to do?”
“We talked about this last night,” Jasmine said, pushing aside the newspaper. “Or don’t you remember?”
I thought for a second, and things started oozing their way into my memory. With it came some—actually, a lot—of embarrassment. “Oh, yeah. We did talk about him, didn’t we?”
“You actually didn’t talk about much else,” Jasmine said. “Are you ever going to tell him how you really feel about him?”
“Maybe. Someday. When I pull my life together.” I sipped the coffee. “Tastes great.”
“Yes, I know, and I’m not letting you change the topic, girl. You have to talk to him about how you feel.”
“But—”
“I don’t want to hear another ‘but’ out of your mouth. You know that’s just you trying to figure out a way to get around talking to him.”
“But—” I snapped my mouth shut and tried to figure out how to say the next sentence without starting with a but. Couldn’t come up with any way to do it, so sipped more coffee.
“Better,” Jasmine said.
“Whatever.”
Jasmine laughed. “You know you have to do it eventually.”
“No I don’t,” I replied stubbornly. “If we don’t get any more work there, I won’t even be working with him anymore. I’ll move on, he’ll move on, and that will be the end of it.”
That last comment made me cringe. Even though I knew it would be better for both of us if we didn’t pursue anything romantic, the thought of never seeing him again felt really wrong. I buried my face in my cup morosely.
“Well, from what it sounded like, you have at least one more case,” Jasmine replied. “And according to you, that could be the beginning of great things.”
I frowned, feeling my headache sneaking back. “What other case?”
“Veronica Stafford. You’re going to find her dog, Gypsy.”
“Who?” Headache screamed back, and I grabbed my head. “I’m going to find her what?”
“That girl who phoned your office and left you a number. You called her last night.”
I stared at Jasmine, barely able to comprehend her words. “I called the dog girl?” I finally whispered. “I don’t remember that.”
“Oh yes, you had a great little chat with her. I did tell you not to, but you wouldn’t listen. And you told her you’d be happy to take her case. Said it would be a cake walk.”
“A cake walk?” I closed my eyes, certain they were about to begin bleeding. “I actually called that girl and told her I’d find her dog?”
“Yes.” Jasmine, evil woman that she is, grinned at me, obviously enjoying the heck out of torturing me. “You did.”
“Did I talk about how much I was going to charge her?” I hoped I hadn’t, because there was a possible out for me. I’d just call her back and tell her I was going to charge an outrageous sum—
“Oh yeah,” Jasmine said, leaning back in her chair and grinning. “Gave her a real deal. Because she sounded like such a nice person.”
“Did I actually say that?”
“Yes, you did. I swear, I thought you two were going to be BFFs before the end of that phone call.”
“Oh, Jasmine!” I put my poor pounding head down on the table and rocked it back and forth a couple of times, until vertigo kicked in and I stopped, fast. “What am I going to do?”
“You’re going to have a shower, pull yourself together, then go find a dog.”
“Do I have to?” I knew I sounded like one of her kids, whining that life wasn’t fair and all that, but I couldn’t stop it. Jasmine pointed at the hallway that led to the bathroom.
“Yes, you do. You told her you would, so you’re going. You have to keep your word, don’t you?”
“Yeah.”
Jasmine laughed and turned back to her paper. “Have fun.”
“Kiss my ass,” I muttered, glancing around to make sure none of her kids were in hearing range. “And I mean it.”
“I’m sure you do,” she said distantly, already engrossed in another article. “You wrote down all her particulars on a piece of paper in the living room. Just so you know.”
“I mean it,” I said, again. “Really.”
As I looked over the information I’d gathered, bits of the telephone conversation I’d had with Veronica seeped into my brain. Her high, breathless voice describing Gypsy and how she, like, smiles. Veronica was twelve. I was sure of it.
“Good grief,” I muttered, dropped the paper on the coffee table, and then went to take a shower.
“So how does one actually go about finding a lost dog?” I muttered as I worked shampoo into my hair without tipping my head either too far forward or back, because I was still dealing with some pretty bad vertigo, and did not want to find myself on my ass on the floor of the shower, on top of everything else.
First thing was, call the city pound. Then, if they didn’t have him—no, her—check to see if she had been turned into the Humane Society. Then, and only then, I would head out to the off-leash area, the place Veronica said she’d been walking the dog when it disappeared.
I was going to need a car—or somebody with a car. The pound was at one end of the city, and the Humane Society at the other. And then the off-leash area was way down in the deep southwest somewhere. Which meant I would have to talk to James. Perfect.
“What have I done?” I muttered as I rinsed the shampoo from my hair.
Made my life way more complicated than it had been the day before. That’s what I had done.
“DO YOU HAVE to sit there and listen?” I asked Jasmine an hour later, after I’d made all the phone calls and ascertained that Gypsy the dog had not been picked up by the pound or been delivered to the Humane Society. Now I had to get out to the off-leash area, and there was no way to do that without getting a ride.
“Yes, I do,” she said, a fresh cup of coffee in her hand and a smug look on her face.
“Don’t you have to go to work?”
“Not for another hour.” She gestured with her cup. “Ignore me! Act like I’m not even here. Just make the call.”
“Jesus.” I jabbed the buttons so hard, I was amazed I didn’t snap a nail. I listened as the phone rang twice, and made to disconnect. “He’s obviously not there.”
“Give it a minute,” Jasmine said. “It’s only 8:30 in the morning. Maybe he isn’t up yet. You did say he’s still staying at the office, didn’t you?”
“Yes.” I sighed, listening as the phone rang twice more. “Is that enough, Mom?” I asked sarcastically, then jumped nearly out of my skin when James picked up.
“I knew he’d be there,” Jasmine said as I stuttered through my hellos and listened to his voice ice considerably when he realized it was me. I slapped my hand over the mouthpiece.
“He’s pissed that I’m calling,” I snapped. “I’m hanging up.”
“Just talk to him!” Jasmine yelled. “It’s a case, for heaven’s sake!”
“I have a case,” I said to James, then rushed through the gist of it without giving him much time to say anything past, “Oh.”
He didn’t seem surprised that I’d called the lost dog girl or that I’d taken the case. He didn’t sound thrilled, either, but at least some of the ice thawed from his
voice when he said he’d be there in twenty minutes to pick me up.
I was going to say something about the car, and all the people we had tailing us the day before, but I didn’t. He’d handle it, I was sure. Just like he had before.
My hands were shaking when I finally disconnected.
“There,” Jasmine said with a smug look on her face. “I told you it wouldn’t be so hard.”
“Yes it was!” I yelled. “Good grief! And now I have to go out and look for a lost frigging dog. Because I got drunk last night and said I would.”
“At least it’s not raining,” Jasmine said.
“Shut up.” I went to find my coat and boots, so I didn’t have to look at her anymore. This was all so ridiculous, I could barely believe it.
James showed up with a pretty good attitude, all things considered. He drank coffee and joked with Jasmine as I ran around pulling myself together, and then we left.
Jasmine was right. It was a nice morning, the air crisp and clear. I almost felt like I would survive. Until I saw Eddie skulking in the back seat of the car, looking absolutely furious. Seeing him brought the pounding behind my eyes back.
I glanced up and down the street, looking for vehicles I didn’t recognize.
“Don’t worry,” James said. “I wasn’t followed.”
“Good,” I said.
“Now, are you going to tell me what made you decide to take this case?” James opened the car door for me. “I thought you were leaving.”
“I don’t know,” I replied miserably. “The girl needs her dog. I thought we could help. Stupid, huh?”
“No,” he replied, and gave me a real smile. It felt like ages since I’d seen him smile, even though it had only been a day. “It’s not stupid. She asked us for help. So we help.”
“Thanks,” I whispered.
“And who knows?” he continued. “Maybe if it goes well, you can forget that interview and stick with me. Heck, this could be our ‘thing.’”
“Like that guy in that movie,” I said. “You know the one?”
“Yeah,” he replied. “I thought it was pretty funny.”
