“Falling.Irememberfalling.”

I looked over at the woman I was talking to. She lay huddled in her bed, a Bugs Bunny comforter
pulledupuntilonlydefiantstrandsofchestnuthairwerevisible.Andshewasstillhalfasleepifher
lackofresponsetomypredicamentwasanyindication.

“Mmm-hmm.Keepgoing,”shesaid,hervoicegroggyandmuffledunderthebedspread.

“But that’s it. I don’t remember anything else.” When she didn’t reply, I glanced down at the
nightgownIwaswearingandtriedtopiecemymemoriestogether.Whathappened.HowIgothere.
Whereherewas.

I turned and looked out the woman’s apartment window into the cool city night. I could make out
streetlightsandthedarkshapesofbuildingsloomingnear,buteverythingwasdifferentnow.

Concrete objects seemed distant, uncertain. The light emanating from lampposts seemed more a
suggestionthananactuality.Alllightdidexceptforhers,thewoman’s,Irealized,lookingbackather.

Sheshimmeredlikeliquidgold,sparklingandbrillianteventhroughthecomforter.Andshewasthe
onlythingIcouldfocuson,couldreallysee.

Lithe fingers curled over the top of the blanket and a dark head appeared, eyes still closed, face
glisteningandincandescent.Hereyebrowsslidtogetheringroggyannoyanceandshetossedanarm
overthemasthoughtoblockouttheworld.Soonherbreathingevenedoutagain,andIfiguredshe’d
fallenbackasleepuntilshespoke.

“Sothat’sallyouremember?Falling?”

Surprised,Istraightenedmyshoulders.Iwassittingonherdresser,astheonlychairintheroomsat
buriedunderapileofclothes.“Yes.”

“Consideringthefactthatyou’rehere,”shesaid,scrubbingherforeheadwiththebackofherhand,
“I’dsayyourstopwasfairlysudden.”

Iswallowedandlickedmylips,buttheyhadnotaste,notexture,likeI’djustbeentothedentist.

Withheadbowed,IaskedaquestionIalreadyknewtheanswerto.“AmIdead?”

“AsadoornailinAugust.Whattimeisit?”

Stiflingahiccupofsadness,Ilookedattheclockonhernightstand,butthenumbers,asfamiliaras
theywere,nolongermadesense.Itdidn’tmatter.She’dproppedherselfonanelbowandwaspeering
at the clock from behind a mop of unruly hair. Then she looked back at me, and my breath caught.
Hereyes were beautiful,deep set andbright gold. Looking atthem through thelong strands of her
darkhairwaslikelookingatapanther ’seyesthroughtheheavy,sharpleavesofajungle.Theimage
wasethereal.

“Couldn’tyouhavediedlater?”sheasked,hervoicethickwithfatigue.“Likearound,say,nine-

twelve?”

I started to answer but realized she didn’t expect me to. She’d pushed off the bedspread to reveal a
BlueOysterCultt-shirtandunfoldedherselfintoalengthystretchaccompaniedbytheloudestyawn
I’deverheard.Buteventhatcouldn’tbreakherspellcompletely,andIwonderedwhatshewas.Maybe
shewasanangel,Ithoughtasshecrawledoutofbedandheadedforthedoor.

Maybeshewasstuckonearth,sentheretohelpthosewhohadpassed.Whatanoblecreature.

“Wedgiealert,”shesaidbeforeadjustingherboxer-likeunderwear.

Iblinkedandtriedtoturnaway,butithappenedsofast,Ididn’thavetime.Whichwasawkwardfor
me,butshedidn’tseemtominditabit.

“Ifwe’regoingtofigurethisout,”shesaid,holdingupanindexfinger,“weneedcoffeeandlotsof
it.”

IfollowedherintoatinykitchenthatmademinelooklikeCarnegieHall.

Wait,mine.Mykitchen.Iturnedtoherwithahugesmile.“Ihaveakitchen.Irememberit.”

“Wonderful,” she said, scooping coffee into a filter. “Unfortunately, so do about five billion other
people.Butit’sastart.”

“Yes,”Isaid,roundinghersnackbartohavealookaround.“Butmineismuch,muchbigger,with
terracottatileandgranitecountertops.”

Shepausedandleveledahardgazeonme.“Areyoudissingmykitchen?”

“No!”Isaid.I’doffendedher.“Notatall.Iwasjusttryingto—”

“Justkidding.”Shechuckledtoherself.“Ithoughtaboutexpandingonce,butmyattentionspanisn’t
longenoughtoseeitthrough.Plus,I’mrenting.Youweresaying?”

“Right.” I eyed her with the uncertainty of someone who’d bet on a horse only to find out it was
missingaleg.“Whoareyouagain?”

Aftersettingthecoffeepottobrew,sheturnedandofferedmeherfullattention.“Ihavetowarnyou,
it’sgoingtosoundbad.”

Makethatathree-legged,partiallyblindhorse.“Okay.”

“MynameisCharlotteDavidson,butcallmeCharley,andI’mthegrimreaper.”

ThebreathinmylungsfledasIstoodthere,lookingherupanddown,tryingtowrapmyheadaround
whatshe’dsaid.

Shesmiledknowingly.“Don’tworry.Youdon’tactuallyneedtobreathe.Doyoulikehazelnut?”

Afteralongmoment,Iasked,“What?”

“Inyourcoffee?”

Iblinkedandglancedbackatthepot.“Icandrinkcoffee?”

“Oh,no.Sorry.Iwasjustwonderingifyoulikedhazelnutinit.Youknow,whenyouusedtodrinkit.”

Swimminginaseaofconfusion,Iasked,“Whatdoesthathavetodowithanything?”

“Not a darned thing, sadly. Hazelnut rocks.” She reached into a cabinet for a cup. “But it might jog
yourmemory.Doyoulikechocolate?Jellybeans?Crystalmeth?”

Igaspedandlookedaroundforamirror.“Oh,mygod,doIlooklikeamethhead?”

“No.” She shook her head. “Absolutely not.” After casting a furtive glance over her shoulder, she
added,“Or,well,notmuch.”

Lookingdownatmyarms,Irealizedtheywereabitskinny.Andmycoloringwasbad,butcouldn’t
thatbechalkeduptothewholedeaththing?IfonlyIcouldrememberwhoIwas,howIdied.Ijust
rememberedfalling.Thatwasit.AndreachingoutforsomethingasIfell,butwhat?

“Isitnormalforpeopletoforgetwhotheyareafterthey,youknow,pass?”

She shrugged while stirring her coffee. “Doesn’t happen often, but it does happen. Especially if the
deathwasparticularlytraumatic.”

“MaybeIwasmurdered.”Itriedsohardtoremember,topushpastthefoginmyhead.“Wait.Ican’t
drinkcoffee.Icouldn’tevenwhenIwasalive.”

“Whynot?”

“Ithinkitnauseatesme.”

Shegrabbedthecupandwalkedintohertinylivingroom.ThatwaswhenInoticedasmall,painfully
thinmaninhercorner,hisbacktous,hisbaretoeshoveringseveralinchesofftheground.

“Toldyouitwouldjogsomething.Coffeeismultifunctionalthatway.Maybeyouweresick.

Wereyouinthehospital?”

Ipointed.“There’saguy—”

“Oh, that’s Mr. Wong.” She sat at her computer and nudged the mouse to bring things out of
hibernation.“Hey,Mr.Wong,”shesaid,offeringawave.“How’sithanging?”

“He’sjust—”

“Hovering.Yeah,you’llgetusedtoit.So,anyideawhatyournameisyet?”

IrefocusedonherbutkepttabsonMr.Wongfromthecornerofmyeye.“Notreally.Ishedead?”

“Sureis.Andhedoesn’ttalkmuch,either.Haveaseat.”Shegesturedtothechairbesideherdesk,soI
sat down while she logged onto a database. “I’m going to check out recent deaths, starting with the
Albuquerque News Journal, see if anything local rings a bell.” As she waited for the server, she
foldedherlegsinthechairandproppedherchinonaknee,carefulnottospillthecoffeesheheldin
both hands, and I realized she was wearing thick knitted socks. Her hair, which hung just past her
shoulders, was still in utter disarray. She looked like a kid on Saturday morning, waiting for the
cartoonstostart.

“Youdon’treallylooklikethegrimreaper.”

“Igetthatalot,”shesaid,thenleveledapointedstareonme,“MaryJaneHolbrook.”

“Who?”Iasked.

Shelookedbackatthescreen.“Oh,crap,nevermind.Shewaslikeeighty-fourwhenshedied.”

Ilookedatthescreenaswell,butthecolorspixelatedandmademedizzy.

“Damn,shelookedgoodforherage.”

“Whycan’tIseeright?”

“You’reonadifferentplane,”shesaid,studyingthescreen.“Thingsdon’talwaystranslatewell.

HowaboutJenniferSandoval?”

“Doesn’tsoundfamiliar,”Isaid,shakingmyhead.“DoIlooklikeher?”

“Noidea.I’monthepoliceblotter,now.Nopics.”

Anothermemorysurfaced,onesounbelievable,sohorridIbitmyliptokeepfromgasping.Ihadto
berememberingitwrong.Thatcouldn’thavehappened.

“Igotnothing,”shesaid,refocusingonmefrombehindhercup.Shetookalongdraw,eyeingme
fromheadtotoe.“Nottomentionthefactthatyoucouldhavediedanywhereintheworldand,quite
honestly,anytime.I’mnotreallygettingareadoffyourgownorhairstyleotherthanyouprobably
diedsometimewithinthelasttwentyyears.”

“Twentyyears?”Iasked,appalled.“Youmean,Icouldhavebeenwalkingaroundfordecades?”

Shenodded.“Buttimedoesn’treallyworkthesameonyourplane.It’snotaslinear.Butthingsare
startingtocometoyou,right?Didyouremembersomethingelse?”

Itmusthaveshownonmyface,thehorrorofrealization,thecrackleofdreadthatrusheddownmy
spine.“Yes,butitcan’tberight.Ijust...Itcan’tberight.”

Shecastasympatheticgazefromunderherlashes.“Youcantellmeanything.Ihaveaverystringent
confidentialityrule.Well,thatandnobodywouldbelievemeanyway.”

I glanced down at my hands, or more importantly, my wrists, but they were unmarred. But I
rememberedfalling.MaybeI’djumpedoffabuildingorabridge.“IthinkIcommittedsuicide,”

Isaid,shameburningmyface.

“Oh.I’msosorry,hon.”Sheputahandoveroneofmine,andthoughIcouldn’tseemtofeelanything
physically,Icouldfeelwarmthradiatingoffher,pureandinviting.Isuddenlywantednothingmore
thantocry.HowcouldIdosuchathing?Ilovedlife.Iremembered.Iwantednothingmorethanto
live,tobehealthyandnormal.

“Wait,”Isaid,glancingbackather,“ifI’dcommittedsuicide,wouldn’tIhavegonetoHell?”

Shesqueezedmyhand.“Itdoesn’tworkthatway,thoughmanyreligionswouldhaveyoubelieveit
does.Sometimesourphysicalbodiessendustoaplacewejustcan’tseemtocrawloutof.It’snotour
fault.”

Ifeltawetnessslidedownmyface,surprisedthatIcouldstillcry.

“Canyoutellmewhatyouremember?”

Iwipedthebackofmyhandacrossmycheekandtookadeepbreath.“Ijustrememberdecidingto
die.Itwasaconsciousdecision.”Ipressedmymouthtogethertokeepfromburstingintotears.How
couldIhavedonethat?Whatkindofpersondidthatmakeme?Itookthesacredlifethatwasgivento
meandthrewitaway.Likeitwasnothing.LikeIwasnothing.

“Sweetheart, there are a hundred reasons why you could have made that decision.” She gestured
towardmynightgown.“Again,youcouldhavebeensick.Sometimes...sometimescancerpatientswill
taketheirownlives,oftenforveryunselfishreasons.”

Iscrunchedmybrowstogetherinthought.Cancerdidn’tsoundright,butIgotthedistinctfeelingshe

wasn’tfaroffthemark.Whenshecastaquickglancetowardmyabdomenandturnedawayjustas
quickly,Ilookeddownandnoticedthesoftfullnessthatroundedmygown.

AgaspescapedbeforeIcouldstopit.

“Iwas pregnant?” Ialmost screamed thequestion in disbelief. Bothhands flew overmy mouth as I
looked at her. “Please tell me I wasn’t pregnant when I committed suicide,” I pleaded from behind
them.

Sheputhercoffeecupdownandtookbothmyhandsintohers,andonlythendidIrealizeshecould
feelme.IwassolidtoherandyetIcouldpassthroughwalls.I’ddonesowhiletryingtogettoher,to
herlight.

“Wedon’tknowthat,”shesaid,hervoicestrongandreassuring.“I’llfindoutwhathappenedtoyou.I
promise.”

Thesincerityinthegoldendepthsofhereyesreassuredme.

“ButrightnowIneedashower.”

After another quick squeeze of my hands, Charley left to get dressed. As she did so, I studied her
apartmentinlieuoftryingtorememberanythingmore.InolongerwantedtoknowwhoIwas.

WhatIwas.IranmyhandsovermybellyasIperusedherbookcollection,agesturethatseemedas
naturalasbreathing,asthoughI’dbeendoingitalongtime.Ididn’tlookveryfaralong,butcertainly
farenoughtobeshowing.Perhapssixmonths?Maybealittlemore?

My heart contracted, and I forced myself to stop thinking about it, to pay attention to what I was
looking at. Charley had books by Jane Austen, JR Ward, and everyone in between. I’d never read
Sweet,SavageLove,butitmusthavebeenreallygood.Shehadthreecopies.Afterthat,Icareenedpast
Mr. Wong’s corner and toured the rest of the tiny box-like dwelling in about thirty seconds flat. I
thoughtabouttryingtostrikeupaconversationwithMr.Wong,butheseemedtobemeditating,soI
sankintoCharley’soverstuffedsofaandletmymindwander.

Itpausedataplaceoflonging,ataneedsodesperate,sooverpoweringIwaswillingtogivemylife
for it. Like a teenager who knew she would just die if Daddy didn’t buy her a new car. Were my
desiressosuperficial?Icouldn’thelpbutwonder,becauseIhadnoideawhatitwasIlongedfor.Had
IcommittedsuicidebecauseIwantedsomethingandcouldn’thaveit?CouldIbethatchildish?That
callous?Especiallywithababyontheway?

“Ready?”Charleyasked.

Iopenedmyeyestodarknessandhadtoconcentratetogainmybearings.ButIseemedtobeslipping,
falling into oblivion. Then I saw her light in the distance and traveled toward it until I was in her
livingroomagain.

“Youokay?”sheasked.

She’d showered and changed into jeans and a white hoodie. Her hair had been pulled back into a

ponytailandIsawherfacefullyforthefirsttime.Whatabeautyshewas.Iwonderedifsheknew.

Whenshestartedanotherpotofcoffee,Ifurrowedmybrowsinquestion.

“ThisisformyfriendCookie.Shelivesacrossthehall,”shesaidasshescribbledaquicknote.

“She’llbeoverforcoffeesoon,butwehaveanerrandtorun.”

“Wedo?”Iasked.Maybeshe’dfiguredsomethingout.

“We do. I think your gown is new.” She gestured toward it with a nod. “I remembered seeing it at
TargetwhenIwasintheshower.”

Ilookedtowardherbathroom.“Youmusthaveareallybigshower.”

“You’refunny.Isawitrecently,whichmeansyoudiedrecently.Probablyvery.”

“Really?”Ilookeddownatmygown.Itdidlooknew.

Sheslappedthestickynoteontothecoffeepot.“Givehermymessage,lover,”shesaid,winkingatthe
potbeforegrabbingherbagandheadingforthedoor.

I studied the pot a long moment, long enough to realize she was kidding, a little relieved when it
didn’tanswerher.Butallofthiswasnewtome.Whowastosaywhatwasaliveandwhatwasn’tin
thisworld?Onthisplane?

“Wait’tilyoumeetMisery,”shesaidoverhershoulder,thenstoppedshortwhensheopenedthedoor
and a tall man stood blocking her path. Or at least I thought it was a man. He leaned against the
doorjamb,armscrossedoverawidechest,abreathtakinggrintiltingonecornerofhismouth.

Buthewasdifferent.Dark.Fierce.Theairaroundhimseemedtostirasthoughhewereturbulence
itself.Andheseemedtobemadeonlypartiallyoffleshandblood.Therestofhimwassmokeand
shadows,andthemeresightofhim,themagnificenceofhim,weakenedmyknees.

Charleyputonehandonahip.“Wherehaveyoubeen?”sheasked,clearlyannoyed.

“Missme?”

“Noteven,”shesaid,addingasnorttoemphasizeherapparentdistaste.Shedidn’tfooleitherofus.

“You’resuchabadliar.”Hisgrinwidenedtorevealasetofwhiteteeth,andIdoubtedIcould’vetorn
my gaze away if someone had paid me. Simply put, he was stunning. Thick black hair. Full mouth.
Piercinglydarkeyeswithlong,inkylashes.AndquitepossiblythemostdevilishgrinI’deverseen.

“I’vetoldyoubefore,I’mawonderfulliar.You’rejustreallyastute.AndIhaveacase,ifyoudon’t
mind.”Shetriedtosidestephim,buthebracedanarmontheothersideofthedoorjambandtiltedhis
head.

“What’swrong?”

“What?”sheasked,hervoicethinandairy.Hewasgettingtoher.“Nothing.Ihaveacase.”

Hepressedhislipstogetherandstudiedheralongmoment.Whenshegesturedforhimtomove,he
lookedoverherheadandasked,“Who’sthedeadchick?”

“Reyes...”Shelookedatmeapologeticallythenturnedbacktohim.“Thatishorridlyrude.”

“Um, son of Satan?” he said, apparently referring to himself. “Don’t you want to know what I’m
doinghere?”

“No.”

Wait,didhesaysonofSatan?

“Ihave every intentionof kneeing youin the groin ifyou don’t move,”Charley said, squaring her
shoulders.

Reyesleanedinuntilhismouthwasatherear.“I’mincorporealatthemoment,Dutch.”

Shekneedanyway,andatoncehewasgone.Vanishedintothinair.Darksmokelingered,alongwitha
deepchucklethatfadedintosilencealmostinstantly.Charleyturnedbacktome.“Sorryaboutthat.We
haveafewthingstoworkout.Respectformyclients,foronething.”Shesaidthelastthroughgritted
teethbeforeheadingoutthedoor.

Ifollowed.“Didhesay‘sonofSatan’?”

“Yeah.It’sanevilincarnatething.And,trustme,hewearsitwell.”

Icouldn’timaginehimwearinganythingbadly.

Westeppedintothenightair,thickwithasyrupydarkness,andyetitdidn’thindermyeyesightatall,
besidesperhapsmutingthecolors.Butagain,thestreetlampsdarkenedtheareadirectlybelowthem.
Theeffectwassurreal.

“This,” Charley said, gesturing toward a red Jeep Wrangler, “is Misery. I’m in love with her, but
don’ttellmysister.She’sapsychiatristandwouldpsychoanalyzethecrapoutofthat.”

WeclimbedinandCharleybroughttheJeeptolife,turningontheheaterwithashiver.That’swhenI
realizedIwasn’tcold.Orhot.Oranything.Temperature,liketasteandtexture,wasapparentlyloston
me. As we drove down a street I didn’t recognize, I clasped my hands in my lap and asked her
reluctantly,“Washethereforme?”

Sheraisedherbrowsinquestion.

“ThesonofSatan.WashetheretotakemetoHell?”

Afterturningintoaconveniencestore,CharleypulledtoastopandshutofftheJeeptogivemeher
full attention. “Listen to me. I promise you, if you were scheduled for the southbound flight, you
wouldalreadybethereandwewouldnotbehavingthisconversation.”

“But,I’vesoobviouslysinned.”

“Nokidding?”sheasked,ateasingsmilelightingherface.“BecauseI’mprettysureI’vesinnedafew
timesmyself.Andaccordingtosomereligions,I’mabouttosinagain.”

Iblinkedandlookedaround,tryingtofigureoutwhatshewastalkingabout.

“I’mgoingtomarchinthereandmakemyselfamochalattewithwhippedcream.Caffeine.

Calories.”Sheleanedinandwhispered,“Unabashedpleasure.”

Icouldn’thelpbutsmileback.“Didn’tyoujustdrinkacupofcoffee?”

“Well,yeah,coffee.Thisisalatte.Amochalatte.Withwhippedcream.Sonotthesamething.”

ShewinkedthenjumpedoutoftheJeep.

Idecidedtogoinaswell.

“Andbesides,Ifinishedthatcoffeeoff”—shelookedatherwatch—“minutesago.”

“Youmakemelaugh.”

“Andyou’reinaconveniencestoreatfiveinthemorninginanightgownandbunnyslippers,”

shesaid,keepinghervoicelow.

Shewasright.Ishouldhavehadthedecencytofeelself-conscious.“So,what’sthestorywithyouand
thatguy?”

“Reyes?”sheasked,takingouthercellphoneasthemachinefilledhercup.Sheopeneditandactually
pretendedtotalkintoit,Iguessincaseanyonewaswatching.“Well,besidesbeingthehottestthing
this side of Mercury—I mean, he was forged in the fires of Hell,” she said with a waggle of her
browsasshefilledasecondcup,“he’ssomethingofapainintheass.”

“Butyoulikehim.”

Sheputalidonbothcups,stuffedoneinthecrookofherarmsoshecouldstillholdthephone,then
headedforthecashier.“Ifyou’retalkingaboutthefactthathemakesmyinnardsmushyandmyknees
weak,then,yeah,Ilikehim.”Shepulledthephonetoherchesttoindicateabreakinherconversation
andsaidtotheclerk,“Wehavetostopmeetinglikethis.”

Hesmiledshylyashehandedoverherchange.“Seeyoutomorrownight?”

“Ifyou’relucky,”shesaidwithaflirtywink.Shecouldgivelessons.

“Youcomeherealot?”Iasked.

With a shrug, she climbed back into her Jeep. I crawled through the door into the passenger ’s seat.

“Onlyeverynightorso.Theyhavereallygoodlattes.Butagain,he’sapainintheass.”

“Thestoreclerk?”

“Reyes.”

“Oh.”Icouldn’thelpbutwonderwhatCharley’slifewaslike.Imean,whatkindofbeingglowsinthe
darkandhangsoutwiththesonofSatan?“So,doyouhavesuperpowers?”

TurningontoCentralAvenue,sheofferedmeaquestioninggaze.“Youmean,like,canIfly?”

Ilaughed.“No.Wait,”Isaid,rethinking.“Canyou?”

Shelaughedthattime.“NotunlessI’monsomeverypowerfulpainkillers.”

“Then,besidesbeingveryshimmery,whatdoesagrimreaperdo?”

“You know, everyone says I’m really bright. I don’t see it.” She studied a hand, turning it over and
over. “Neither do the living, thankfully. But I pretty much just hang out and help the departed with
their unfinished business, for lack of a better phrase, those who didn’t cross initially and are
wanderingtheEarth.Andwhenthey’reready,theycancrossthroughme.”

“Throughyou?”Iasked,alittlestunned.“Literally?”

“Yeah.Didn’tImentionthat?”WhenIshookmyhead,shesaid,“Ihopethatdoesn’tscareyou.

You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” She burst out laughing, and I was slowly drifting back to my
three-leggedhorseparadigm.Afteramoment,shesoberedandsaid,“Okay,toosoon.Newbiesdon’t
havethebestsenseofhumor.”

“Sorry.I’malittledeadrightnow.”

Shesmiledandnodded.“That’sgood.You’recatchingon.”

Ismiled,too,butIturnedawaysoshewouldn’tsee.Ididn’twanttogettoocomfortablehere,inthis
placeofvoid,ofloneliness.

WepulledintotheparkinglotofaPresbyterianhospitalandmadeourwayuptothematernityward.
ThatwaswhenIrealizedwhatshewasdoing,checkingtoseeifanyonediedinlabororsomething
likethat.Shameconsumedme.I’dmadethedecisiontodie.Ifeltit.Iwouldneverhavemadeittothe
deliveryward.

“Areyoureallygoingtodrinkbothofthose?”Iaskedher.

“Oh,no.Thisstuffiscurrency’roundtheseparts.”

Aswegotclosertotheward,sheturnedtome,unwrappedanindexfingerfromoneofthecupsand
placeditoverhermouth,shushingme.

“WhydoIhavetobequiet?Ithoughtnoonecouldhear.”

“Becauseyou’llruinthemood.”

I frowned as she flew to a sidewall and flattened herself against it. After checking up and down the
hall,sheeasedtoherright,closingthedistancefromustothematernityward.Shealmostslipped—
on nothing, absolutely nothing—caught herself with a soft gasp then plastered herself to the wall
again,alongsighofreliefescapingher.

Ohyeah.Shewasnuts.

Afemalevoiceechoedagainstthewalls,originatingfromaspeakerbythelockedentrydoor.

“Davidson,whatareyoudoing?”

Charleygaveupthepretenseandpushedthebutton.“Nothing.Over.”

“Thisisn’tawalkie-talkie,Charley.”

“Gotit.Over.”

Afterasoftchuckle,thevoiceasked,“Wouldyouliketocomein?”

“Wouldyoulikeamochalatte?”

Nootherwordswerespoken.Thedoorsopened.Charleyofferedmeasatisfiedgrinandraisedthe
cup.“Toldyou.Betterthangold.”

Weendedupatanurse’sstationwheretwonursessatfillingoutcharts.

“NotthatI’veactuallytriedgold,”Charleyadded,whisperingoverhershoulder.

Oneofthenurseslookedup,agorgeousHispanicwomanwithashortbobandalmondshapedeyes.
The hunger on her face said it all. She grabbed the coffee and took a hesitant sip, blowing into the
openingonthelidfirst.

“It’sbeenages.TowhatdoIowethepleasure?”sheasked,adreamycountenancecomingoverher
aftersheswallowed.Thenshechuckled,steppedaroundthedeskandgaveCharleyabear-likehug.

“Well—”

“Yourhairiswet,”shesaid,interrupting.“Charley,Iswear.It’s,like,sevendegreesout.”

“Noway.It’snineatthelowest.”

IlookedaroundasCharleyandherfriendcaughtupontheeverydaygoingsonoflife.Therooms
aroundusweredark,butofcourseIcouldseetinybedsandmassivemachinesandIrealizedwewere
onthepreemieward.Justbeingthereseemedtoreawakensomethingwithinme.Alonging.Adesire.
Ablindingneedtocreateandprotect,sopowerfulthatitalmosthurt.Iclawedpastit,pusheditback

downandsteeledmyselfagainstitstalons.

“Soyou’llcallaround?”CharleyaskedasIturnedtoheadback.Istoppedshortamoment,stunned
onceagainbyherbeckoninglight,theglitteringaurathatencompassedher.

“Absolutely.Iknowseveralnursesateachhospital.I’llfindout.”

“Whatisshelookingfor?”IaskedCharley,retracingmysteps.

“Oh, excuse me one minute,” she said to her friend and opened her phone again. Apparently her
frienddidn’tknowaboutme.“Hey,what’sup?”

“Um,okay,whatissheloo—”

“Right,Nancy’slookingnow.Keepyourpantieson,UncleBob.We’llfigurethisout.”

Ithoughtshemightactuallyhaveacallthistime,thenshelookeddirectlyatmeandwinked.

“Uh-huh,she’slookingforanythinglikethat.Apregnantwomaninherlatetwentieswhomighthave
diedrecently.She’scheckingallthehospitalsinthecity.”

Iglancedatthefloor.“ButifItookmyownlife—”

“Wedon’tknowthat.”Shetouchedmyhandtobringmeback.“Wedon’tknowwhathappened.”

Justthen,herbrowsbunchedtogetherandshelookedpastme,herexpressionsuddenlyannoyed.

Turning, I saw it too. Him. Reyes. In all his glory. He stood down the hall from the nurse’s station,
gazingthroughaglasspanelintooneoftheroomswithallthebigmachinesandtinybeds.Igota
better look this time at his corded arms, thick chest, shadowed jaw that outlined his mouth to
perfection.

Afteraquickglanceatherfriend,Charleystrolledclosertohim,keepingthephoneatherear.

Herfriendofferedheraquickglance,butsheclearlycouldnomoreseeReyesthanshecouldseeme.

“You’re not still mad about that putting-a-knife-to-your-throat thing, are you?” he asked without
takinghiseyesofftheglass.“Thatwasdaysago,andnotentirelymyfault.”

“WhatpartofIhaveacaseareyounotunderstanding?”Charleysaidintothephone.

Hedidn’tanswer.Withasmilethatwouldcharmthefuroffafox,hesaid,“Babiesarecool.”

Charley smiled too and looked into the room. “They don’t even look real,” she agreed, squinting
inside,herfacefullofadmiration.“Theylooklikedolls.Well,dollswithlotsofwiresandbreathing
apparatuses.Poorlittlethings.”

He touched the glass with an index finger, pointing. “That one’s going to be professional football
player.”

At first Charley laughed, but when he didn’t join in, she aimed a wary expression at him. “Do you
reallyknowthat?”

Again,withouttakinghiseyesofftheinfant,hesaid,“Ireallyknowthat.”

“Oh,mygosh.”Shelookedatthebabywithanewpurpose.“Buthe’ssosmall.”

Reyesshrugged.“Hegetsoverit.”

Charleygaveasoftchuckle.“Ihopeso.”

Icouldn’tlook.Icouldn’tbringmyselftoacknowledgewhatI’ddone,thelifeI’ddestroyed.ThelifeI
hadtohavedestroyed.

“Don’tyouwanttoknowwhyI’mhere?”Reyesaskedafteramoment.He’dcrossedhisarmsoverhis
chestandfocusedhissultrygazeonCharley.

“Nope.”

Takingaminisculesteptowardher,hesaid,“Wouldyouputthatridiculousphonedown?”

“Nopeagain.”Asshestudiedthetinybeingbehindtheglass,Reyesliftedahandandranafingerover
herjawanddownherneck,leavingtrailofdarksmoketocaressherskin.Charleytookadeepbreath,
inhalinghisessence,beforeshakingherheadandsteppingaway.“Stop.”

Heeasedcloser.“Stopme.”

Sheputahandonhischestandhecovereditwithoneofhisown,abeseechinglookinhiseye,as
though begging her. But she pushed him away and he vanished once again with a devilish grin,
leavingashadowyfoginhiswake.

“Whatareyoudoing?”Charley’sfriendasked.Shewaswalkingdownthehallwaytowardus,apiece
ofpaperinherhand.

“Oh,”Charleysaid,recovering,“Iwas...Therewasabug.”

Thenurselookedaround.“Andyouwerenudgingitaway?”WhenCharleyjustshruggedandclosed
herphone,herfriendhandedherthepaper.“AwomandiedlastnightatSt.Joseph’shospital.Shewas
pregnant.”

MyheartbeatskyrocketedasCharleystudiedthepaper.OrIthinkitdid.DidIhaveaheartbeat?

“Doyouhaveatimeofdeath?”Charleyasked.

“Nothingexact.Sometimeearlythismorning.”

“Gotit.”Afterscanningthepaperagain,Charleysaid,“Well,IguessI’mofftoSt.Joseph’s.

Thanksforthehelp.”

“Thanksforthemochalatte,”thenursereplied,pullingCharleyintoahug.“Andsomedayyouare
goingtotellmewhatallthiswasabout.”

“Someday,”sheagreed,grinningatmeoverthewoman’sshoulder.

We made our way across town to St. Joseph’s, neither of us saying much. The parking lot was
deserted as light was just now cresting the horizon. But it was a light I could see, colorful and
magnificent. Natural. We went inside and found the nurse’s contact, an RN named Jillian Lightfoot.
Charleyintroducedherselfandaskedaboutme,claimingshe’dbeenafriendofmineandhadbeen
worriedsick.

“I’mnotsureifit’sthesamewoman.What’syourfriend’sname?”

Crap.Ihadn’tthoughtofthat.IlookedoveratCharleyassheclenchedthepaperinherhandandcasta
furtiveglancemywaybeforesaying,“Jo.JoMontgomery.”

Thatwasmyname!Irecognizeditinstantly.Itouchedmychest,myfaceinremembrance.IwasJo
AnneMontgomery.

Charleylookedoveratmeandsmiledsadly.

“That’sher,”thenursesaid.“I’msosorryforyouloss.Thefamilyishereaswell.”

“CanIseethem?”Charleyasked.

“Well,”shehedged,notsurewhattodo.“It’sstillearly.Idon’tthinkanyonewillmindthatyou’renot
related,butI’llhavetoaskthemfirst.They’rewiththebaby.”

Istilledaseverythingcamecrashingbacklikeatitlewaveofemotion.

Charleyseemedtosensemydistress.“Iwouldappreciatethat,”shesaidtothenurse,thenlacedahand
into mine and coaxed me into a nearby bathroom. “I’ll be right out,” she called before closing the
door.ThensheturnedtomeasIsanktothefloor,kneltbesidemeasIcouldnolongerholdmyown
weight,sparseasitwas.

“Areyouokay,hon?”sheasked,hervoicesoftandsoothing.

“Iwasfalling,”Isaid,piecingtogetherthelastminutesofmylife.“Iknewsomethingwaswrongand
Ireachedoutformyphone,butIfell,blackedout.Idon’trememberanythingelse.”

“Someonemusthavefoundyou,”shesaid.“Wereyouathome?”

“Yes.Wait,no.I’dmovedinwithmyparents.Mymother!”Ishouted,worryfloodingeveryghostly
moleculeofmybeing.“She’llbesoupset.”

I started crying, sobbing so hard I couldn’t catch my breath. Good thing I didn’t need to. Charley
wrapped her arms around me, and I felt her light seep into me, warming me and healing me like a
salve of illumination. I lost track of time as my mind revisited the last few months of my life, the
pregnancy,thehope,thedecisionI’dmade,knowingImightnotsurvive.

When I next looked up, Charley had led me somewhere else. We were in a hospital room with my
mothercooingtoatinybundleinherarms.

“What’shername?”Charleyasked.

Mymother—mybeautiful,strongmotherwhohadworriedsohardforsolong—handedherababy
girl.“HernameisMelodyJoAnne,”shesaid,herred-rimmedeyessparklingwithpride.

“Wait,”IsaidtoCharley,“we’ddecidedonMelodyRuth,afterher.”

Charley tore her gaze away from Melody and asked my mother, “I thought Jo decided on Melody
Ruth.”

Mymotherlaughed,tearssparklinginhereyes.“Wedid,butIthoughtitmuchmorefittingthatthis
childbenamedafterthewomanwhogaveupherlifetogiveherone.”

“MayIaskwhathappened?”Charleysaid.

Withheartbrokeneyes,mymotherexplained.“I’mnotsurehowwellyouknewJo,butshehadtype
onediabetes.”

“Ididn’tknowthat,”Charleyreplied,offeringmymotherasympatheticgazewhileswayingwiththe
baby.

“Wefigureditoutwhenshewasseven.Italmostkilledher,andthedamageitdidtoherkidneyswas
irreparable.We’dstruggledherwholelifejusttokeepheralive.Somanyhospitals.Somanyclose
calls.”Shetouchedatinyhandthathadescapedthetightfoldsoftheblanket.Mybaby’shand.Itwas
terrifying.

“Justlikehermother,”amalevoicesaid.

Surprised,Iglancedupasmyfatherwalkedincarryingtwocupsofcoffee.

“Alwaysescaping,”headded,gesturingtowardthehandoftheinfant,“alwaysdefiant.”

“Totheend,”mymothersaid,chokingonasob.

“I’msosorry,Mrs.Montgomery,Mr.Montgomery,”Charleysaid.

“She just came home pregnant one day,” Mom said. Dad handed her a coffee and squeezed her
shoulderforsupport.“Thedoctortoldherifshewentthroughwithitshewouldberiskingherlife,
butitwasallshe’deverwanted.Theonethingthatwouldkillher.”

Mymothermeltedintoaseaofsobsasmyfatherheldhertight.Irememberedeverythingnow.

TheonenightmyboyfriendandIweren’tcareful.ThatsameboyfriendthenoptedoutofMelody’s
life. Quitting my job and moving back home with my parents when I’d fallen too ill to care for
myself.EverythingI’ddonewasjusttokeepMelodyalive.

IfinallyworkedupthecouragetomoveclosertoCharley,togetalookatthisbeingthathadtakenup
residenceinsidemeforsolong.CharleyinstantlyangledthebabysoIcouldseeherface,andboth
my hands flew up to cover my mouth. She was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. Absolutely
perfect.

“Lookathereyes,”Isaid.

Charleynodded.“Andherlongfingers.”

“Babiesarecool.”

Startled,webothlookedupatReyes.He’dmaterializedfromaseaofblacksmoke.Itdriftedoffhim
likefogoffdryice.IthoughtCharleywouldbeupset,butshedidn’tseemtomindhispresence.She
refocusedonMelody,heronlyconcernmybaby.

“MayI?”Reyesasked,questioningmewithupraisedbrows.Itwasthefirsttimehe’dspokentome
directly.

“Absolutely,”Isaidafteramomentofrecovery.Ieasedasidetolethimhavealook.

HesteppedcloserandsmileddownatMelody.“Happybirthday,beautiful.”

Charley’sgrinwidenedandshewhispered,“Isn’tshe?”

“Sheis,butIwastalkingtoyou.”

Charley gasped and leveled a curious stare on him. “Oh, my gosh, it is my birthday. How did you
know?”

Heshookhishead.“Iwasthere,remember?”

“Right,”shewhispered.Thenshestaredathim.“Thankyou.”

“You’rewelcome.NowI’llleaveyoualone.”Tippinganinvisiblehatatme,hesaid,

“Congratulations.”

“Thankyou,”Ireplied.

Justbeforevanishing,headded,“Oh,incaseyou’rewondering,she’sgoingtobeaverysuccessful
artist.”

Ahandcoveredmymouthagain.Icouldjustseeit:mybeautifulMelody,paintbrushesinhand,aspot
ofceruleanonhercheek,asmudgeofvioletoverherbrow.Shewasperfect,andherartwouldbe
perfect,too.

IwatchedthesmokeofhisexitdissipatethenturnedtoCharley.“Hewastherewhenyouwereborn?”

“Yep.Longstory.”

Ichuckled.“Thelifeyoumusthavehad.AndyoushareMelody’sbirthday.”

“Ido,don’tI?”

“Is she talking to you?” my father asked Charley, clearly having heard her whispers. He looked
amused.

Charleylaughed.“Yes,sheis.Justburstingwiththingstosay.”Sheglancedupathimandsmiled.He
smiledback,movingclosertostaredownatmychild.

“Canyoutellthemsomethingforme?”Iasked.

Charleynoddedandwaitedformetospeak.

“Canyoutellthemthankyouforeverything?Just...”Icouldn’tseemtosayanythingelse.Mythroat
closedwhenIthoughtaboutallthethingsthey’ddoneforme,allthesacrificesthey’dmade.Ihadn’t
actuallycommittedsuicide.Notreally.I’dsacrificedmyselfforanother.Relieffloodedthroughme
withthatknowledge.Andmyparentshadforgivenme,indulgedmethisonegreatdesireI’dhadin
lifeandmyneedtofulfillit.Nowtheywouldberaisingmychild,showeringherwithjustasmuch
loveastheyhadme.Icouldn’thaveaskedformore.

But, how could I possibly put all of my gratitude in words? Did words as strong as the feelings
swirlinginsidemeevenexist?

“Yes,thankyou,”Isaid.I’dmadetherightchoice,andnothingelsemattered.“Justthankyou.”

“Joaskedmetogiveyouamessageshoulditcometothis,”Charleysaid,hervoicealittlechoked.

Mymothergaspedandstoodbesidemyfather,hereyessearching,cravingforanywordfromme.

“Shesaid,‘Thankyou.’”

Oh,I’dforgottensomething.Ileanedinandwhispered.

Charleylaughed.“Oh.AndshewantedtomakesureyouenrollMelodyinthefinestartschoolsinthe
country.”

The smile that commandeered my mother ’s face was brilliant. “That’s Jo,” she said, her eyes
shimmeringwithunspenttears.“Alwaysdemandingtheverybest.”

EasingMelodyoutofCharley’sarms,shehuggedCharleyandmyfatheratthesametime.Itmademe
realizesomething.“IthinkI’mreadynow,”Isaid.

Charleyturned.Levelingthosegoldeyesonme,shenoddedandwaited.

MyparentswerebusywithMelody.Itwastime.But,IsteppedforwardandhuggedCharleyfirst.

She hugged me back, and it felt liked being wrapped in sunshine. Then, without another thought, I
crossed.

The journey was fast. I saw memories and thoughts that were not my own. It took me a moment to
realizetheywereCharley’s,andtheyweretoovastformetocompletelycomprehend,butImanaged
toabsorbafew.Thememoryofhermother ’sdeath.Whatitwaslikeforherinhighschool,agrim
reaperamonghumans.Howshesecretlylovedchildrenbutwasconvincedshe’dneverhaveany.The
smallandcunninglyplaceddefensemechanismssheincorporatedtokeepthosearoundheratarm’s
length,allbecauseshesimplyknewtoomuchaboutbetrayalandlossanddeath.

Also,IsawhowshehopedwithallherheartthatReyeslovedher.Justalittle.Justenoughtokeepher
goingdayinanddayout.

SuddenlyIwasinaplaceI’dneverimaginedexisted,seeingcolorswedon’thaveonEarth,sovivid
they’reblinding.Iwasfeelingwarmththathadnothingtodowiththeweather,awarmthsofineand
pure it saturated every molecule of my being. And there, in a place outside of time, I watched my
sinfully powerful desire grow up. I watched Melody Jo Anne Montgomery grow up, all the while
waitingforthedayI’dgettomeether.

Whatamarvelousdaythatwillbe.

Copyright2011DaryndaJones

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