I walked through the gates and toward the section where my grandparents had been buried a few years back. They'd passed within a month of each other. I'd always imagined Charlie and I would be the same. We’d have kids, grow old and wrinkly, with faces that showed a life well lived, and then move on together. If I controlled the world, no one would die before their laugh lines had time to set in.
I was almost on top of her before I saw her. It felt like someone shoved a hand into my chest and twisted with all their strength. My mother was kneeling in front of a tombstone that I knew would have my name carved upon its shiny new surface. I'd never thought about how such a simple act of carving a name can impart such finality.
I took a couple of steps and felt the grip of death settle upon my shoulders. I halted instantly and then backed away. The weight lifted with my retreat.
“I get it,” I said to no one or possibly everyone. Who knew what exactly constituted the universe, “I won't go any further.”
I found a spot to settle in underneath the shade of an old oak, leaning against the rough bark and grateful for the support. I watched my father approach her, his normally perfect Marine posture now slightly hunched, a physical ramification of the emotional weight he carried.
He stopped by her side and, with a hand on her arm, he used his own waning strength to help support her. I saw the expression of grief on their faces. She turned into him, and although I couldn't hear her, I saw the sobs wrack her body. His arms circled her as they shared their emotional grief with the only other person who could understand.
I slid down the tree, not caring how the bark scratched my skin, and sat at the base of the trunk as I watched them leave the cemetery. At that moment, I didn't feel rage or a burning desire for revenge, only defeat and a hollow sadness I couldn't imagine living with, but couldn't fathom how to fill.
Chapter Five
After a night of wallowing in a depression that threatened to destroy me, I'd awoken with a determination to not think at all. I wouldn't think of my parents, the career I’d lost, the friends I had, nothing. As stupid as it might seem, it was the only way I was going to hold it together and get through this next month. Too painful? Don't think about it.
I only had to get through a month. I'd spent at least part of my teens not thinking. I had the skill set; it was just a bit rusty.
I shuffled through the clothes hanging in the closet for something to wear as I determinedly didn't think about the bad stuff. Problem was, I had no idea what type of attire a job like this called for. I wasn't even sure yet what that job was, exactly.
I ruled out formal business attire, mostly because I couldn't find anything appropriate. So, will it be corporate casual as I mete out the universe's justice or jeans and boots so that I'm comfortable as I even the score?
It was ten A.M. when I heard the knock at the door and I still hadn't figured out what to wear. Even in death, I still struggled with wardrobe decisions. Some problems just never go away.
I didn't budge from the closet, knowing Harold would let himself in and no one else would be here. It wasn't as if I were getting calls from friends. I was dead. The dead didn't get visitors. Even if I mailed an invite, no one would show up. They'd think it was a sick prank.
Harold's footsteps echoed through the condo.
“Harold, what should I wear?” I yelled out the open bedroom door.
His bushy red head popped into the room, then looked me up and down.
“What's wrong with that?”
“Jeans, flip flops and a t-shirt?” I looked at his white button down and bow tie.
“Yes, let's go.”
Ah, he didn't like it; he just didn't want to wait. I'd file that information away for when I might need it. Harold's weak spot was patience.
“I’m not making my first impression in this.” I shooed him out of the room and threw on a little black dress that would be appropriate for many different occasions.
“Ready,” I said as I left my room. I went to grab my purse out of reflex, before I remembered I didn't have one. I settled for grabbing the cell phone and headed out to...who the hell knows?
I saw Hank waiting out front, with the stretch Mercedes, as I shut and locked the condo.
“So, boss, where we heading?” I asked once I'd gotten in the car.
“Work.” Harold settled into the other seat and was nose deep in papers before I could get my next question out. Harold wasn't much of a talker.
I took the opportunity to get my own head together. Today was the first day I actually felt like myself and if I wanted to get through the rest of this month, there were certain things I couldn't do. Seeing my parents was one of them. That had been a huge mistake. I was stuck for now and I had to remain calm about the situation, and work within its confines, until I got out of here. I'm a logical, sane woman. I could handle this.
One internal pep talk and fifteen minutes later, the Mercedes pulled into the lot of an unassuming three-story office building. I got out of the car and took in the average structure on Highway Seventeen. I'd driven past this exact location hundreds, maybe thousands, of times in my life and never given it a second glance.
“This is work?” I slapped my hand against the brick. “This is where the powers of the almighty universe reside?”
“Yes.”
When we approached the door, it had one of those black boards that listed all the residents hanging on the wall next to it. I read through the list quickly. It included everything from an accountant's office, counselor, and a dentist on the third, exactly what I'd expect from a structure like this.
“Here?” I turned from the board to Harold, who was already waiting for me just inside the door. “This is where work is? The universe and all that? Just sitting in an innocuous office building, on regular road, in the middle of South Carolina?”
“Yes, our offices reside within this building.”
“Then how was I going to live in Texas?”
“Commute.”
“From Texas?”
“Yes.”
He pointed to the lettering on the large glass windows framing the door above him. “This building is owned by UFU, LLC. If you looked that name up on Google, UFU stands for Units for Use, LLC, but the real name is Unknown Forces of the Universe.”
He stopped talking abruptly and moved inside. Harold wasn't much of a teacher. If he were human, I'd think he might be diagnosed as having some sort of social disability.
I circled through the doors after him into the average looking, if slightly dingy, lobby. The dark brown tile gave me the impression it hadn't been decorated since the seventies, and not well even then.
We made a left when we hit the carpeted hallway. We passed an ancient looking elevator that made me glad it looked like we were on the first floor and proceeded past several doors.
“You might be tempted to visit other offices, but I would discourage that.”
“Why?” I had no intention of visiting, but you couldn't have a statement like that thrown out there and not ask why. Well, some people could, but my life was about knowing every detail of a situation. Being dead hadn't changed me much.
“Until you know what you're dealing with, it's inadvisable.”
He stopped at the final door at the end of the corridor. The plaque by the entrance read “Life Management Associates.”
We walked into a typical looking waiting room. It had chairs that looked like they'd actually been used and tables littered with fliers that read “Be the best you, you can be!” and “Find your passion, unlock your future!”
“This is Trudy.” Harold pointed to the young redheaded female sitting behind the Formica desk—another fabulous piece leftover from the rocking 70s décor—in the front room who looked to be barely eighteen.