Awake in Hell

by Downing, Helen

  Then I get angry. Why would he have to come here? Is it because of the suicide, because he would rather be dead than continue to live as the emotional punching bag for his own mother’s venomous abuse? Is it because his mother wished it on him? And if so, where will she end up? I’ve met more people down here in the last few days than I ever would have thought I would meet and the funny thing is a lot of them — most of them — seem like decent people. I know I’ve said it before but it’s worth repeating. This place sucks! I’m planning to talk to Deedy about this. Not that I think he has any actual authority, but I have to talk to someone about it and he seems better at accepting my venting wrath than most.

  Hazel is being endlessly patient with Buddy. She’s a picture of sympathy. Stroking his back while he talks on and on and smiling while she cups his face in her hands, pulling him in for a hug every once in a while. And he seems to be responding well. He’s actually starting to smile. And occasionally even laugh.

  Fuck me RUNNING!

  What is going on in the back of my cab? “Okay kids!” I say with just a bit of panic. “It’s time to end this magical ride, so I need a destination from both of you. Buddy? Where to? Hazel? You seemed to really want to get somewhere when I picked you up.” Neither of them is listening. Hazel has morphed into a school girl before my very eyes.

  “I was just so silly. I thought I needed to assert my independence by only making myself available to unavailable men. But I missed out on the greatest part of finding someone new,” she’s telling Buddy.

  “What was that?” he answers.

  Don’t say it. Please don’t say it. She’s going to say it.

  “The chance you’ll find someone you can love.” she purrs at him.

  I slam on my brakes in the middle of the road, and take a tiny bit of delight when both of their heads are thrown into the back of my seat with tremendous velocity.

  “Get out! Both of you! Get the fuck out of my cab!” I can’t believe this is happening. I’m screwed. Falling in love? In Hell? That’s got to be in the top 3 most offensive things that anyone could conceive. My job just turned into a carnival goldfish you win for pitching dimes. DEAD IN THE WATER. I’m screaming now. It’s my turn to come unglued. “I mean it! Get out!!”

  Buddy looks at Hazel. Hazel looks back all dreamy-eyed at Buddy. “I think we are finally getting somewhere.” he says and they leave the cab together hand in hand.

  As I watch them leave, I do have to admit that it seems like they are made for each other. He’s got enough baggage to keep her psychologist chops sharp, and he will adore her and only her, which is far overdue in her life. It’s not that I’m against love. I just don’t want it happening on my watch.

  “Louise?” Tim’s voice comes through the radio. “I’ll need you to head back to dispatch now.” I can tell he’s looking forward to seeing me about as much as he looks forward to root canal.

  “On my way, Tim”

  On my way to get fired, again.

  I am currently sitting on a curb outside of the cab company holding my second pink slip in as many days, staring down at the words “Terminated for Facilitating Love.” How ridiculous is my life? Or my afterlife? I mean, really. Who gets fired for facilitating love? I am feeling a bit sorry for myself. But I actually feel worse for poor Tim. He looked like he was going to cry when he handed me this slip. Poor, slow, sweet Tim. I don’t care what terrible or horrific thing he may, or may not, have done in life; he doesn’t, in any way, shape, or form belong here. And he deserves a way better day than he had today, Having to fire the Hellverse’s worst employee ever. Before I left, he grabbed me and pulled me into a giant bear hug, patting me on the back so hard, if I had anything stuck between my teeth it would have dislodged it, better than flossing. Like I’ve said before, human touch is very rare down here. However, awkward or uncomfortable that bear hug was, it was also kinda cool, pretty much the coolest thing ever so far down here. Almost as cool as Deedy, but not quite.

  Speaking of Deedy, it is time for me to haul my sorry, leather-clad, once-again-fired ass back into his office. I’m not really sweating the whole telling him this time because I know he will be his usual understanding self and probably be more interested in hearing about the little girl and any uncovered memories than about my seeming unemployableness. That’s pretty much the only thing that I’m not sweating in this ridiculous outfit. I am starting to chafe and I still have about five blocks to go to the Agency.

  My mind starts to wander as I begin my long, hot, thermodynamically challenged walk. I start by thinking about Deedy’s reaction to my losing, yet another job, and wondering if there will be another one behind it. I suddenly think, “It’s just like my Mom and Dad, always taking me back.” From out of nowhere this is what fills my head, and all of the memories that single thought brings with it.

  Off and on throughout my life, one of my parents would get the bright idea that they were somehow enabling me, that my bad behavior was being reinforced by their placid acceptance. Unfortunately for them, they never got that bright idea at the same time. So, usually it would inspire a new round of “good parent vs. bad parent” in which good and bad is entirely objective, and changes considering your personal perspective. Oh, and it would spark the most wretched fight nights I’ve ever remembered. My mom and dad were like something out of the movies most of the time. High school sweethearts, married when they were still technically teenagers, and have brought the other into every single delusion since. Dad goes on a diet and Mom starts worrying that he’ll waste away. Mom takes a Thai cooking class at the community college and Dad talks about her like she’s being courted by the French Culinary Institute. If Dad says the sky is green, Mom agrees. If Mom thinks that Furbee’s are little instruments of Satan, Dad is right on board with the idea. The closest thing to an argument that, they would have under normal circumstances, would be Mom’s rolling eyes or Dad’s criticism of a dry roast.

  Enter the “non-normal circumstances,” namely me. I was the only thing that could tear these two incredibly silly, stupidly-in-love people apart. There were some nights when I would lie in bed listening to them scream at each other, saying unimaginable things. It was like in those moments they totally forgot they loved one another. And the thing is, it’s not because one of them loved me more than the other. It was because both of them loved me so completely, that regardless of what side of the argument either of them were on at the time, they were each willing to sacrifice the feelings of the other in order to further their own cause.

  Those were the worst times of my life. You would think that the most horrible way you could ever see yourself is through the eyes of someone who hates you. But you would be wrong. I can tell you this, that it’s way fucking worse to see yourself through the eyes of someone who loves you, really loves you. Because that’s when you have to face the truth… that some people love you in spite of who you are, not because of who you are. In the case of my parents, that was abundantly clear. Even to me.

  During those times, I would have done anything to make them stop. Usually that meant leaving. Sneaking out in the middle of the night. Hoping that by the time they figured out I was gone, they would have forgotten which side of the argument each of them was on and just forgive each other. Sometimes I would crash with a friend, but eventually Mom and Dad caught on. Starting the next day, they would call all my friends until they found the one I was staying with, and convince me to come home. So, I started wandering out further, staying away longer. I knew that when I was gone they would worry, but not fight. I was okay with that. I liked the idea of them having a normal life without me coming in and screwing it all up. Ultimately it would be my love for them that would drive me back. That, and the need for a home-cooked meal. Primarily, it was the fact that I missed them. So I would come back swearing to them and to myself that this time would be better. This time there would be no fighting because I wouldn’t give them a reason to fight. I would turn things around and be a better daughter. Of course,
that would last as long as it took to score some blow, pick up some random loser guy, or get picked up at a party by the cops. And the funny thing is, when I would get home and my parents would have that resigned looks on their faces, I’d also see something else behind it. Love. Always love, my love for them and theirs for me, unconditional love. And it could have killed them, it could have destroyed their marriage, yet there it always was. It would have been so much easier if they just stopped loving me or if I could have stopped loving them, become estranged and never speak again. Over time, they would have been better off for it, no matter what had happened to me. But, none of us could conceive of that kind of type of love. That artificial, pretend love, that continued to haunt me in throughout my adult relationships. Was it my fortune, or their misfortune, that I was one of “those” kids, who was born to those parents?

  The long, hot walk to the agency, combined with the little side stroll down memory lane, did make me much more melancholy by the time I got up to the 17th floor. Gabby was waiting with a cup of glorious coffee. She handed it to me the second I got off the elevator. “Hi ya, Gabby. Where’s Will this afternoon?”

  She glided over to me and waved her hand dismissively. “He just hasn’t returned from his morning assignment,” she said, as though it was nothing for me to worry about.

  “But his morning assignment was following me at the cab company,” I said, with equal nonchalance, although mine admittedly was a bit artificial. I was actually kind of worried about the kid.

  Gabby looked at me as if I’d just grown another eye smack dab in the middle of my forehead. “My goodness, you are smarter than you look, Louise,” she said, with genuine surprise. Then she tossed back her head on that long glamorous neck of hers and laughed.

  Have I mentioned that Gabby’s outfit has hardly changed since I met her? She’s always wearing a different a dress, that much is obvious, but the general style has remained the same. The same Donna Reed vibe day after day. I’ve always wondered how she managed that. But, I have also learned that folks hanging around the second chance temp agency rarely acknowledge, let alone answer, personal questions. So, I’ve learned to put my curiosity away when I’m here. Just sit back, keep my big mouth shut, and enjoy the many perks of employment by Deedy and company. As if she was reading my mind (which she probably was, the little minx), Gabby handed me another fresh, steaming cup of coffee before she said, “Don’t worry about Will, I’m sure he’ll be back before you are out of the boss’s office.”

  “Yeah,” I responded. “And this promises to be a marathon.” I sigh, heavily. “Is he in there?”

  A voice comes booming from the back filled with humor. “Gabby, have you seen Louise? Because being this is my office, I would assume she would come to see me and not hang out in the lobby with the help. Wouldn’t you?”

  Gabby giggles, a bit girlish herself. What is it today with men turning women into giant gigglers? “Better get in there,” she said.

  I found myself smiling this time too, as I walked into Deedy’s office and announced, like it was a major accomplishment, “I got shitcanned again.” and tossed him a quarter.

  Deedy, was obviously amused. “My darling girl, you seem to be taking this one better than the last.”

  “Yeah, well, I’ve learned there’s a lot more fucked up down here besides my employment issues. Can we talk about Tim at the cab company?” Deedy rattles the curse jar and I deposit my penance.

  “So…” I say expectantly.

  “We could talk for years about Timmy, but nothing that will answer any of the burning questions in your mind. Sorry, Louise. Can’t be helped. Let’s talk about you, instead. I’m sure you’ve made some interesting discoveries, right?”

  “No, you can’t dismiss me!” I respond vehemently. “I get that I am not allowed to ask you personal questions, or Gabby or anyone around here, but there’s some things that I need to understand!” Even I can’t believe that I’m being this demanding. I sit up straight in my comfy chair as if I am harboring way more confidence than I’m actually feeling. I decide to also add just a bit of manners in case it would help my cause, so I end with “Please?”

  Deedy’s voice is calm and kind, and his eyes are soft, yet penetrating, as looks deep into mine. He even leans a bit over the desk and it has the desired effect. I’m frozen in his gaze. “No, Louise, you don’t. The universe, whether in life or the afterlife, is filled with things you may not understand. It is not your job to know everything. It is your privilege to learn what can be learned and to experience what can be experienced. And, to decide what part you are supposed to play in every situation, good or bad. Glean what you can, and leave the rest for someone else.”

  “But it just isn’t fair.” I say, with sincere emotion. “The fact that Tim is here, or Mrs. Barnes, Buddy, or that poor little blond girl, all of these people being down here with the scum of the former living, doesn’t make sense.”

  Deedy laughed a little. “You know, Louise Patterson, for a woman who died at age 45 and found herself damned for eternity, you have quite a misguided sense of justice.”

  “And, that’s bad, isn’t it?” I say, pouting just a bit.

  “No, in fact, it’s quite refreshing,” he answers. “Now, can we talk about you? So, I assume you saw the little girl? Since you brought her up again.” I launch into telling him about my, yet another, strange day. I tell him about the little girl and her new companion, the incredibly handsome man. And, the fact that pretty boy seemed to know an awful lot about me, and used a very unappealing nickname, yet it seemed somehow... intimate.

  “Are they real or are they figments of my imagination?” I ask.

  “Why ask me? If they are figments of your imagination then only you would know — wouldn’t you?” he asked.

  I sigh, heavily. "You are determined to be as uncooperative as possible, correct?”

  Deedy looks at me with unadulterated pity. Then he smiles wide. "Have I ever told you that in Wales there is a theatre that has these words inscribed on it: Creu Gwir fel gwydr o ffwrnais awen.”

  “Those are not real words,” I say.

  “Yes, they are. They are Welsh words,” he replies.

  “Then, I’ll need you to translate, Mr. Welsh guy!” I say exasperated.

  Deedy, laughs again. “It translates as ‘Creating truth like glass from the furnace of inspiration’”

  “How does that apply? Or is it like the sheep thing and you are just homesick?” (Yes, I am quite aware that I’m being a shitbird right now, but I’m still pouting, and Deedy is being all life-lessoney.)

  “What that means darling girl, is that sometimes you have to walk through fire in order to be prepared to face the truth, and other times you just have to have a little inspiration. And, that applies to you in so many ways,” he chuckles once more as he lets his sentence drop off.

  “Wait a minute. Did you just make a Hell joke?” I look at him like he is insane.

  He gives me a playful wink. Then he reaches into his desk and pulls out another yellow sticky note.

  “You’ve got to be kidding! I’ve got another job! Already?” I exclaim not knowing whether to be grateful or to start crying.

  “Yes, but you can’t have this precious sticky note until I’ve heard the whole story,” Deedy said. “What happened today, Louise?”

  “Oh!” I tell him. “Well, sit back and get ready to laugh your head off, because I have the story of at least one lifetime!” I say excitedly. Deedy reacts equally and leans back in his chair to get more comfortable. I then begin regaling him of the freak show that occurred in my cab, earlier. Deedy was practically hysterical when I recounted poor Buddy and his rant about his mother. About Hazel’s penchant for married men and how Buddy had just warmed her heart like the Grinch at Christmas. Then how they ended up walking off together like the end of a romance movie. Deedy actually had to wipe away a tear from laughing so hard.

  “And how do you feel about that, Ms. True-Love-Is-A-Myth?” he asks teasing
ly. I can’t believe how quickly I became so comfortable with this stretched out, beautifully dressed, cartoon man. I simply stick my tongue out at him as a response.

  Then I told him about the walk home and the memories that were haunting me the whole way here. I told him about my mother and father, their fights, how I used to leave but how I always came back.

  Deedy got very serious once more, “and why, Louise?”

  “Why?” I ask.

  “Yes, why do you think you remembered that at this moment?” he answers

  “Because seeing Buddy and Hazel made me think about how conditional love can be. Except for those two people who always seemed to love me without regard to even themselves.” I was surprised at just how profound my own answer sounded, even to me.

  “So, today was a good day to be Louise, because today was the day that Louise remembered, ‘agape,’” Deedy says matter-of-factly. “What is with you today and making up words?” I sound exasperated.

  Deedy laughs one more time. “Agape? It’s a lovely word, and a very old one. It means unconditional love— the rarest love of all.”

  “Nice word.” I say wistfully.

  “Quite.” says Deedy with sincere affection. We look at each other and smile. And my heart, however artificial or imagined it may be, also gets a little warmer today.

  Chapter Twelve

  Okay, so now I’m heading back to my apartment floating on super heated air. Before I left, Deedy handed me the yellow sticky note. And it’s unbelievable! Tomorrow, I start work as a hairdresser. Yes, I’m well aware that I have no qualifications whatsoever to be such a crazy thing, but nevertheless, tomorrow that is exactly what I will be. In the spirit of full disclosure, I did tell Deedy that I have never cut hair, not even on a dog or a kid, let alone an actual grown-up who cares about how they look. Deedy’s response was, “All the better!” It actually served to remind me exactly where I am and how my non-qualifications could be an asset.