Now I’m definitely freaking out. She got here because of that train accident. She was pointing out to Pete exactly where she and her husband were sitting. I have a major fear that what happened to me might involve a train. And Miss Lily mentioned something else before she wandered off.
“I can clearly see you driving this—this vehicle, Lorelei.” Say, my mother’s Land Rover?
Something cold and creepy climbs up my spine and the crystal clear air that spins around me turns colder than Antarctica. Being here is turning out not to be so enjoyable after all. Maybe that’s the way it’s supposed to be. So we’ll hurry to the staircase that leads above. But then I’d have to give up the Golden Window and the Silver Lining. I’m not ready to do that. But, Miss Lily’s chatter’s is driving me up the wall. And there’s a spot in my brain chanting and calling my name, “You were there, Lorelei, you were there, you were there . . .”
* * *
I jump into the Golden Window and hug my pillow. I feel better already. I look below and quickly get caught up in Bobby’s birthday party. Rita’s husband is dressed as a clown and making balloon animals for all the kids who are sitting on the ground in a circle around him. None of the twisted shapes look like any animal I’ve ever seen. He tells them they’re dinosaurs never before unearthed. The children clap their hands and each beg to have one. They are rather strange and alluring. I can see why they’re caught up in the magic of it. If I were five or six, I would be, too. Bobby’s thrilled to be the center of attention. Rita and Mona’s backyards have no fence or divider between them and the party’s scattered between the two yards. Rita has an above ground swimming pool in hers. It’s really ugly. There’s a white plastic ladder next to the blue rubber sides that’s holding about four feet of the water. Rita’s in the pool. Mona’s encouraging Andy to make his way up the steps.
“Mama will catch you!” Rita calls out.
Andy’s wearing Super Man trunks and vinyl water wings on each of his arms. He starts up the steps as fast as his fat little legs with carry him.
“Careful, Andy,” Mona says, “Not so fast.”
He ignores her and scampers up to the top and immediately throws himself over the edge.
“Goodness,” Rita says. She turns to Mona. “No fear of the water, here.”
I’m thinking children should have a healthy fear of the water and hope they keep their eyes glued to him. And there are a ton of other children scattered all about. Some have put their swimsuits on, too, and are getting in the water. Rita’s husband, the clown, reappears as himself. He gets in the pool and watches the children paddle about. Good, four eyes are better than two. Rita’s pre-occupied with Andy. He splashes in the water, delighted when he gets a mouthful. Isn’t that when small children cry? Andy’s an unusual kid. He dumps his head under the water and blows bubbles out his mouth when he brings his head back to the surface. He’s the type you have to watch in the bathtub every single second.
After the kids are dried off they gather around in a circle and the games begin. There’s a donkey piñata to take pot shots at, which despite the children’s best efforts remains intact. Rita gives the final blow. Everything that’s inside bursts out of the donkey’s belly. The kids all scramble to get hold of a package. They’re every color of the rainbow. They open their treasures while Bobby opens his gifts. Cake and ice cream is next, followed by the last activity of the day: giant bubble wands. Cool! There are flower wands, fish wands, turtle wands, and heart wands. They make bubbles larger than dog houses with a single flick of the wrist. The flower wands make large clusters of bubbles like giant daisies bigger than boats; the fish wands make these long tubular bubbles and the turtle wands make clusters of small bubbles. The heart wands make the biggest bubbles of all, but they take a bit more skill. Rita’s husband takes hold of one of the heart wands. The children are excited. So am I! We had bubbles when I was a child, too, but they came in a small bottle with a blow-ring the size of quarter. These are dinosaur bubbles, which is appropriate since Bobby’s party theme centers around T. Rex, and brontosaurus’s, and stegosaurus’s, and tyrannosaurus’s in all sizes. The children are sent home, tired and sticky. Bobby, Bradley and Allison are tucked into their beds. All’s well and I’m relieved. I was a bit worried with the swimming pool loaded with too many children for three adults to keep their eyes on.
EIGHTEEN
The Window of Dreams
Pete wants me to spend less time in the Golden Window. He says that spending time in the windows is holding me back. That I’d be much happier just letting them go. Fat chance of that.
“I have a surprise for you!” he says, and takes my hand. “Come with me. Let me show you something truly magical.”
I’m spirited off to a magenta mist hidden behind the Steps of the Hereafter. It’s laced with rays of sunlight that makes the air around it glow brighter than a new moon.
“The Window of Dreams,” Pete says and points one hand in its direction.
“What’s it for?” I say.
“For you to spin your wildest dreams in,” Pete says.
“What for?”
“It will give you a glimpse of what rewards await you,” he says.
“You mean I just sit in this window and dream up all I want?”
Pete nods his head. The window is loaded with crystals of every color in the rainbow. I got to hand it to him. It’s more impressive than the Golden Window. It’s lined with glass panels that look off in every direction of the universe, and has a ceiling dotted with stars the size of footballs. I climb into the window and settle into the big cushions lined in velvet. Pretty cool.
“If you spend enough time here you’ll be more than ready to let go of what’s beneath you,” Pete adds.
“So it’s a trick,” I say, and climb back out of the window quicker than I can swallow. I’m not ready to let go of what’s below, certainly not the Golden Window. I want to meet all of the people my father’s in search of who now have my organs. There are three more at least to go. And I don’t want to give up the Silver Lining. Plus, I’m absolutely hooked on Mona and her kids and Rita and Andy. I want to be certain that if I hadn’t died, Mona would have gotten someone else’s kidney in time to save her life. The Silver Lining will show me all that and more.
“Lorelei, Lorelei,” Pete whispers my name like a prayer. “Not to trick you—to encourage you. It’s my job!”
“Right,” I said. “I almost forgot about your job.”
Pete smiles. “Well then—” he says.
“Well then, don’t work so hard at it,” I say. “Chill.”
“Chill?” Pete cocks his fluffy head to one side.
“Right, cool it; take five, give me space, chill.”
Pete shrugs his shoulders and raises his hands up to the part of heaven that’s resting above us.
“I’m trying,” he says. “I’m trying.”
Lights flashed all around us and a deep melodic voice calls out from a distance. I can’t be certain, but it sounds like this voice is saying, “Give it a rest, Pete!”
NINETEEN
The Silver Lining
Did I mention my mother has a brand new Land Rover. Why she would want to buy that particular vehicle is beyond me. It feels like you’re driving a bus. It’s got all the latest equipment, but I can’t figure out most of it. Thankfully, placing the key in the ignition and putting the vehicle it drive, park, or reverse is no problem. The door locks are totally another story.
There is some type of child security locking component on the windows and doors. Paige and Annalise have to wait for me to unlock the door they sit next to, and if they want to roll down the window, I have to do that for them too.
Of course, there’s an instruction manual in the glove box, but it’s wrapped in clear plastic. I’m fearful if I unwrap it to read how to take off the safety feature concerning the locks, my mother will know I’ve been snooping in this vehicle and she’s smart enough to figure out I’m probably driving it, too. That’s a ma
jor fear.
It’s my turn at the wheel. Annalise and Paige and I steal our parent’s cars all the time.
“You guys just tell my when you want the windows down. No problem.” I say.
Tonight we’re off in search of boys. Normally we head to Buckhead where all the neat clubs are, to see if we can sneak in, but most of them have been closed down due to too many drunken brawls and a couple of shootings. Annalise wants to head to the roller rink. Paige says let’s go out to Stone Mountain Park.
“We can catch the fireworks!”
They have them every night.
“They’ll be boys all over the place,” Paige insists.
I don’t really care where we go. The thrill of driving without an adult along makes me feel light-headed, like the time I sniffed glue. We’ll have a great time no matter where we head. The fact that there’s danger lurking doesn’t concern me in the least. We’ve snuck out in the night before. Nothing bad ever happened. Plus, I’m a good driver. And we aren’t out here alone. We have each other. What could go wrong?
TWENTY
The Golden Window
I miss my mother more than any other day since I got here. I know she had some not so good qualities, but like, who doesn’t? Besides, they don’t seem so important now. She was there as far back as I can remember, as familiar as morning. You can’t help but get attached. Maybe it’s that way for little children who get beaten by their mothers, too. I used to wonder how they could possibly still love them. Now I know. I miss my mother’s voice. I miss her smell—Este Lauder and dusting powder. I close my eyes and almost catch a whiff of it, but then it’s gone. I used to lie on my bed and stare at the ceiling and dream up ways to get my parent’s attention. I wanted them to notice me. I pictured coming home from school and saying, “Hey, I got an “A” in English today and I’ve been selected for the lead in the class play. How about that?” Of course, I never did get an “A” in English and I didn’t even try out for the play, but, still, I used to wonder if that would have maybe gotten their attention. I just wanted them to say something special to me, like, “We’re so proud of you, Lorelei—goodness, you’re amazing!” I guess I thought I had to earn their love. Now I wonder if I had it all along. They seemed real sad when I died. Maybe they cared more than I’ll ever know and I was just too blind to see it. And maybe they were thinking the same things about me—“What can we ever do to get Lorelei’s attention?” I’m not sure if I did much to show them what they meant to me, either. We always think there’s so much time.
Miss Lily’s here. She’s resting in the Golden Window with me. We have a huge platter of pastries to share and we’re slurping down iced tea, sweetened with at least five pounds of sugar.
“I think I’ll take a nap,” Miss Lily says, dabbing at a little bit of a crème puff that’s sitting on her lower lip.
I pat her shoulder and tuck the silk comforter gently around her chin. She’s a real sweet lady. I’m getting very fond of her.
Now that she’s asleep I plop onto my stomach and rest my head on my elbows. I have a very good view of my mother. She’s at St. Benedictine’s for her weekly support group. They have a new member this week, Mrs. Charles. Her daughter just died.
“She paid some barbarian to perform an abortion,” she says weakly. “If she’d come to me I’d have talked her out of even considering one, or at least taken her to a regular doctor.” She puts her head in her hands and starts sobbing.
“Why couldn’t she tell me before—before—”
The others don’t answer, but give her sympathetic looks. The kind Mr. Warren hands her his handkerchief. Mrs. Charles looks up and nods her head in gratitude.
“Why?” she asks again. Still, no one answers, but recognition has taken hold of Mrs. Charles eyes; she is now able to answer the question herself. Why, indeed? The question is now written on her heart, the answer stamped plainly on her face. Mrs. Charles cups one shaky hand and brings it to her mouth.
“Ohhh,” she moans softly. It is obvious her daughter was sorely afraid to tell her mother. Now she’s dead, along with the baby that was growing inside her.
Mrs. Charles goes back to her sobbing. The counselor suggests it would be good to take a break, and motions towards the coffee station decked out with paper cups and condiments. There are small tables centered all about, like it’s some kind of Starbucks.
Mr. Warren invites my mother to join him at his table and my mother does something that totally surprises me. She says, “Why, thank you Mr. Warren. That would be lovely.”
“Call me Wendell,” he says, and smiles.
“Grace,” my mother replies and holds out one hand.
He takes it in his and leans down and gently kisses the back of it.
“That’s for sharing your loss with us last week.” he says. “What a tragic way to lose a daughter. So senseless.”
They’re speaking of me and how I died, and I wish they’d repeat some of the details. I missed last week’s session. I was at Bobby’s birthday party.
My mother nods her head, and takes a seat next to Mr. Warren—right next to Mr. Warren. Will wonders never cease?
TWENTY-ONE
The Golden Window
At her support group my mother announces that soon she’s to meet the young attorney who has one of my kidneys.
“Goodness—she lives in Savannah,”, she says, like she expected my organs to be scattered to the far corners of the world and finding one within in a few hundred miles is unsettling.
The group members tell her it will be a positive step in her grief recovery and they wish her well.
I’m anxious to meet this young attorney, too. My father’s still convinced that it’s not the right thing for my mother to do, which I find very puzzling since he’s been traipsing across the country in search of those on his “organ” list.
“All right, then,” he says. “Suit yourself.”
He arranges for a meeting the following week. They go to the attorney’s office at one o’clock on Friday. They’re to meet with her after lunch. She works in a building on Bay Street not far from the hotel. It has a great view of the harbor, just like the Regency Hotel.
My parents are welcomed into this elaborate reception room by a well-dressed receptionist. If I had a heart, it would now be pounding. I’m sort of part of this exciting place! I mean, my kidney comes to work here every day.
The receptionist motions to a cherry wood credenza where there’s a bunch of coffee and tea. A fancy silver tray and matching silver coffee urn is the centerpiece. There’s white doilies scattered about with crystal bowls of sugar cubes and yellow and blue and pink artificial sweeteners, and a slew of flavored crèmes in miniature containers. Next to that is a cute little silver pitcher with what looks to be real cream.
My mother settles for a cup of Earl Gray. My father sits nervously nearby watching my mother who is sipping her tea.
It’s a very large office. Several attorneys check with the receptionist for any messages they may have missed during lunch. Her name is Candace. It says so on a wooden plaque at the front of her desk. Candace Whiting. She hands them their messages. Her handwriting is letter perfect and easy to read. The attorney’s nod politely at my parents before disappearing down this hallway that’s wider than Texas.
My father’s getting more nervous the longer they wait. It’s not like him and his behavior’s starting to annoy me. Candace, who’s been on the telephone, places the handset back on its cradle and tells my parents the attorney can see them now.
“Please come with me,” she says.
They follow her down the hallway and stop at mahogany door with gold letters spelled out on the front. My father’s head is blocking which ones. Candace opens the door and motions them in. Just like in the movies, the attorney swirls her desk chair around full circle and comes into view. She quickly rises, holds one hand out, palm up and slightly extended.
“How nice to meet you,” she says. “I’m Kirsten Lankford and I owe my li
fe to you.”
If it were possible for me to faint, I would. You may remember that the beautiful babe my father is having an affair with is an attorney whose name is Kirsten Lankford.
It’s not a coincidence. This too cute attorney who has one of my kidneys and the exquisite Black Beauty, who has captured my father’s heart, are one and the same.
TWENTY-TWO
The Silver Lining
I’m taking off in the Silver Lining. The shock of finding out my father’s having an affair was bad enough, but to discover it’s with a person who is housing my kidney is too much. The Golden Window’s making be miserable. So, I’m going to go find out what would have happened to Mona if I hadn’t died, and the Silver Lining will do just that. Nifty! Once again I can view my life as those I still exit on earth. Double nifty!
Pete wants to go with me.
“I want to go alone,” I say. “It’s not like I haven’t done it before.”
“Don’t you enjoy my company?” he asks.
“Sometimes,” I say, and grin.
“Make this one of those times. You never know when you might need me.”
Which is true enough; Pete is a great comfort. When I told him about my father and that attorney, he put his arm around me.
“I see the travesty of things on earth continues. I remember when Cain killed Able. The heavens roared that day, let me tell you!
So now I don’t feel so bad. I mean, it’s not like my father killed someone. But right now, I don’t want to think about it. I’m going to see how Mona’s doing and if she’ll get another kidney in time since going through the Silver Lining means she won’t have mine.
Pete and I find her resting comfortably at Mayo Clinic in Rochester, Minnesota. She’s received her transplant and is doing pretty good. The staff has her on special precautions to insure she won’t reject it. Which means visitors must wear masks and paper gowns and wash their hands thoroughly and apply a hand sanitizer from this cute little dispenser by the sink. She’s on more medication than I’ve seen any person take in my lifetime, when I had a lifetime: a host of immunosuppressants. Pete explains that her body considers her new organ to be a foreign substance that needs to be eliminated.
The Heavenly Heart Page 7
