Author's Notes:
i) This story is an attempt to demystify Rube's behaviour during the story arc in the second season: a) Hurry, b) Be Still My Heart, c) Death Defying, d) Forget Me Not, and e) Always. So you will see dialogue from these episodes in this piece.
ii) Disclaimer: Dead Like Me and its character are the creation of Bryan Fuller et al. and are copy written under MGM/Showtime/etc. No infringement of their rights is intended. The stories written under the penname Gabigail, however, do belong to me. None are written for profit and are intended for entertainment purposes only.
iii) Feedback of a constructive nature is always appreciated and will be taken into consideration in future endeavours.
Enjoy!
Forward into My Past
When a new reaper joins my crew, it's my job to assist them with the transition from living to undead.I'm a firm believer in the art of simplicity, which I must say has been the most efficient method in assisting in this manner. Accompanying the new recruit to their autopsy helps the whole experience sink in, as does attending one's wake, which can also facilitate in one making peace and breaking away from their previous experience. Lastly, the application of a cardinal rule doesn't hurt either. Everyone dies and it's not our job to try and understand the ins and outs, nor the how's or why's. It's our job to facilitate their moving on from this life to whatever lies beyond the lights. Simply put: Get the job done.
Reflecting upon my own transitionary period, I've always thought that I had somehow managed to get through it fairly unscathed. However, I will never forget my first reap. It honestly felt like hours before I located a piece of his body large enough to detangle his soul. It was a messy death; a factory explosion. I was late and truly learned from that experience, for death waits for no one. After that I admit that I still made a few mistakes here and there, but quickly learned the ropes and followed the rules set out for me. I've gone along that way for many years now, yet with the arrival of my newest reaper Georgia Lass, something within me has changed. Something nags at me to seek answers pertaining to events in my past.
Nightmares have and always will be part of the course, but for some strange reason, they are more frequent than normal and wake me with a violent jolt in a cold sweat. My recent nightmares are of the time I fist met Lucy, the birth of my little girl Rosie, and singing her to sleep. All of which are happy memories, the only one's that it seems I'm allowed to recall. I'm fairly certain that it was the dreams more than anything else that has caused to me wonder where the parcel I sent Rosie and her mother, not long after my death, turned up. I recall sending it registered, even keeping the yellow, now mustard coloured ticket for quite some time. I suppose it just never occurred to me to go poking about in my past. After all, my past is just that, my past, and in truth I have no business in a life that stopped existing the moment I died. My nightmares coupled with having to assist George with her separation issues are probably the root of my own curiosity.
I sit at the small kitchen table where I watch as Lucy prepares supper. I never know why she never asks for my help, but every evening I offer and she declines. Her back to me, I watch her form, as she chops vegetables, puts them into a pot of water, and onto the stove. Despite our situation, the cramped living conditions she always seems happy to me. Always smiling, or humming, she has never given me reason to think otherwise. I look over my newspaper expecting Rosie to make an appearance, which she does and I pretend not to see her.
"Papa!" she says, I'm sure my face lights up as she scurries into the room. She's my little ray of sunshine, her honey locks are braided in pigtails, her little face beaming, reflecting her happiness to see me.
"Hey Peanut." I say and open my arms for her to hug me as she always does. Lucy pauses in her cooking and turns to watch us as I cover my eyes and count in our little game of not hide and seek. "One, two, three." I uncover my eyes, not surprised at all that she's still standing in front of me, with the biggest grin on her little face. I lean in towards her and kiss her forehead before tapping her nose playfully. It kills me to be in the situation I'm in. I would do anything for them. Perhaps it's in that moment that my minds made up.
As quickly as the pleasant part of my dream dissipates with my turning on my side, the horrible reminder of what I did, comes to the foreground. I'm back in the dingy, old office, sitting in a dusty chair in front of some guy behind a huge desk. The guy behind the desks name is Jim. He merely takes a drag on his cigar and opens the top drawer, retrieves a gun, and slides it towards me across the width of the desk. Along with the gun, is a piece of paper with the instructions that I am to follow, written on one side, and a map on the other.
I awake with such a start, I wonder if I've had a heart attack. I know the outcome of that meeting, I don't need to dream it. I sit up and gain my bearings as cool sweat runs down my face, which I brush away with the back of my hand. Looking at the clock on the bedside table I realise that I'm running a bit late, so I rush into the bath and prepare to meet my crew for breakfast, I grab my planner on my way out the door. I'm not surprised to find the crew waiting for me, I've been, as Daisy would put it, "fashionably late" on more than one occasion. We have breakfast and I am quick in divvying today's appointments, wanting to get to the post office as early as possible in order to avoid a potential line-up.
Oh great! I nearly curse under my breath, as I encounter the mile long line of people waiting to pickup mail, buy stamps, or send packages. At the very least, I have my trusty crossword puzzle in hand. From time to time, I glance up and then at my watch. I cannot believe with all of the wickets open, it takes the postal workers so long to process people's requests. I've honestly seen a quart of molasses empty faster than these clerks move. I'm nearly through my crossword, and trust me I've stretched it out as long as humanly possible, when my turn comes to be served. Handing the gentleman my ticket, quite frankly expecting, or perhaps hoping that he will return empty handed. At least in that case I will know that Rosie has received the package I sent.
"It will take a minute." The robust postal worker announces in a pleasant tone.
"Take two." I reply and wait for his empty handed return. Instead I hear a very low, very puzzled whistle.
"Well, this is very interesting." He says as he returns with a medium-sized, clear-sided zip-locked envelope in hand. I feel a hard lump rise in my throat as I recognize it through its clear side. It's basically large enough to hold money and nothing more.
"What's that?" I ask playing dumb.
"Well this has been in the dead letter office for awhile." He extends the envelope towards me and I take it. It feels funny to hold in my hands, almost like fire, as I feel as though my heart is ablaze within my chest. Despite already knowing what it is, I examine the envelope. Rosie Sofer's name is elegantly scrolled along with her address and my return address, without my name of course.
"When did this get to where it was going?" I ask in utter shock and disbelief. The poor postal clerk looks at it for a moment, then looks at me. His eyes are kind, as if he knows that this envelope is very significant.
"I wouldn't know that sir." He replies simply and honestly, which is most likely the case.
"Well this was sent a long time ago." I prompt him.
"Perhaps the people moved."
"No, they didn't move." I cannot help as my tone becomes agitated.
"I don't know what happened sir, I wasn't there. This is almost eighty years old." He pauses, realisation of its age hits him. "Eighty years old." He repeats in disbelief of his own.
"This is unacceptable." I retort as my emotions get the better of me.
"Sir, this may be unacceptable, but it is the way it is. It was in the dead letter office. It took a long time to make its way back. Now you have it."
"Well this is a mistake."
"It came back."
"This is a terrible mistake." I repeat as though I hadn't heard him. As I walk away, a sense of defeat in my chest, he feels the need to make a speech, probably some well-rehearsed line to boot.
"On behalf of the US postal system. I apologize for any inconvenience this might have caused you or you family."
"You have no idea." I say simply under my breath in an attempt to conceal the venomous contempt, I cannot help but feel.
It's interesting how we deal with our fears. For some reason, I had always hoped that Rosie had received the letter. At least then I could feel as though I hadn't made my choice in vain and did my job as a parent. Anyways, I head straight to the waffle house, I'm not really sure I understand why, but sitting in my usual booth, in my usual place I can only stare at the unopened envelope for what seems like eternity, which of course is mere minutes. Kiffany has been and gone, returning with a ceramic mug filled with coffee. I smile my thanks and continue to stare it down, as though my penetrating gaze will cause the envelope to open on its own. In truth, I really don't have to open it; I already know what's inside and its history. Yet there are so many unanswered questions that nag me.
I turn it between my fingers, I guess in a way I'm willing myself to have the courage to open it. Then I finally do. The zip lock opens easily enough, however, it's the smaller envelope that doesn't open with the same ease. I recall
the day I wrote Rosie's name on it. I had written a letter to accompany the money, but something stopped me just short of sending it. I remember the happiness I tried to convey in that letter, the words I had committed to paper, a letter that I had kept for quite some time after, periodically thinking to send it to her, yet knowing I could never commit to such bravery. Come to think of it, it really was about eighty years ago. The paper used has aged to that dirty brownish shade. The ink is slightly warn, after all I had used a fountain pen, and perhaps it weathered along with the paper. To open, or not to open? I ponder the possible repercussions, and in the same moment begin to free the envelope from the string that binds it.
The inner wrapping is now all that separates me from the envelopes contents, which I had carefully slid out and quickly read the typed note, which simply states: Rosie, this is for you and your mother. As gingerly as I slid the note out of the envelope, I remove the contents, which are bound together with more string. I fan out the hundreds, fifties, twenties, tens, and fives, and let the notes fall upon the tabletop.
"Ooh what did you do? Knock over a bank?" George asks as she gracelessly drops herself into the seat across from me.
"No." I reply very quietly.
"Is this real money?" she tilts her head.
"It was. Many years ago."
"You okay?" she asks, concern in both her tone and facial expression. I don't answer. Only nod my ascent, but when I do find my voice.
"Just a long day. Have you handled your Post-it yet?"
"I'm on my way."
"Don't be late."
"I won't be." She replies as I begin to gather the contents. "Do you want a ride home?"
"I'll walk." I reply before getting up, forgetting my planner.
"Rube." She says holding it out towards me. I take it from her.
"Thanks." I reply as I make my way out.
The irony of my walk home, is that the sun is shinning brightly upon my dark and dejected mood. When I arrive home, I'm not surprised to find the customary internal envelope slid under my door. A little early, I think to myself as I pick it up and close the door behind me with a gentle click. Removing my shoes, I know that the contents of that envelope have to be reviewed, the assignments transposed into my planner and then onto Post-its for my crew. It's a tedious job tonight, my mind not truly on my task, which I finally finish and decide to do a little bit of detective work. I figure that if I can locate Rosie, I'll know why she hasn't received the money I sent. I pull out a series of old telephone books and begin my search. I thumb through the last book in defeat and decide that the best method may be going to the records office. That way I can use the paperwork to follow her through her life. Retiring for the evening, I pull the covers over and fall into a fitful slumber.
Sitting quietly at the kitchen table, contemplating my current situation, I look up from the gun in my hands and notice that Rosie has woken up.
"Hi Rosie." I say as I conceal the gun behind my hand. She waves and as I wave I quickly hide the gun within the folded newspaper that sits upon the tabletop. "What are you doing up?" I get up and make my way to the bed. "You should be asleep Peanut." I sit on the chair that is beside the bed, and lean towards her.
"Where are you going?" she asks quietly in her small voice. I reach out and massage her temple.
"Go back to sleep." I whisper.
"But I'm up now." She replies, her little lips pout. "Where are you going papa?" she repeats.
"I'm going to get a few things your mother needs." I reply as I gently cover her with the comforter. I cannot tell her that I'm planning on robbing a bank and that she may never see me again. That is on two levels, the first is if I'm shot, I'm as good as dead and the second is that if I get caught, I'll be taken to jail, which is just as bad as the first. Answering her inquiry is the only way to satisfy her.
"When are you coming back?" she asks, I don't know that.
"Soon." I reply.
"I'll be loving you." She prompts me. I don't want to wake Lucy, but I know that Rosie won't close her eyes unless I oblige. "Sing it papa." She can be rather persistent at times. In as quiet a whisper as I can manage. I take a deep breath and wonder if it will be the last time I sing her to sleep. As I sing, I gently stroke her forehead in a comforting manner.
"I'll be loving you, always. With a love that's true, always. When the things you've planned, need a helping hand. I will understand, always." I watch as she snuggles into sleep. Kissing her forehead, I collect my hat and jacket and with one last look, make my way out, closing the door on the life I know.
I awake with the song in my head as though I may have actually been singing it in my sleep. Taking a deep breath, I ready myself to take a few days off and find out why I'm feeling the way I have been for the past little while. This morning Post-it duty isn't as difficult as my reapers can make it when they want to. Especially when Mason gets it in his head to be a complete idiot, or George brings her usual sourpuss attitude, and Daisy acts as though the worlds still revolves around her. Sometimes I wonder if Roxy is the only sane one, next to myself of course. I handle my Post-it duty in good time, poor guy, an artist, falls to his death. I head over to the restaurant for a snack and to meet up with Roxy, whom I know will be having her customary cup of coffee. I know that explaining my absence to her will be easier without the crew because I shouldn't have to get too deep into it with her.
Kiffany has brought us the check and I take a quick look at it, marvelling at the price of coffee.
"Coffee used to be a nickel." I say as I put the slip on the table. Roxy looks at me for a moment, makes a quick ten cents comment before I decide to let her in on my plans. Well not completely, just enough, or so I think.
"I'm going away for a couple of days. I need you to cover for me." I'm pretty direct and she knows that.
"Where are you going?"
"Just away."
"What are you doing?"
"I'm doing a little research."
"On what?"
"Roxy." I say under my breath in a way she knows not to push me for more.
"You ask me for a freaking favour and then you zip up? I don't think so." She snaps.
"I sent something to someone a long time ago and it didn't get to that someone and I'm trying to do a little follow up."
"Were you dead when you sent it?"
"Roxy." I again say under my breath.
"Were you dead when you sent it?" she repeats herself and I nod.
"Yes."
"Really? Is this someone dead or alive today?"
"Dead Roxy. Coffee was a nickel. Now leave me alone, just let me enjoy my pie in peace."
"Fine."
We are interrupted by her radio, an occurrence at the Millstone Hotel, a location I recall writing on Daisy's Post-it. She didn't screw up. Good, I think.
"Do the Post-its for me. I appreciate it." I say, holding out my planner towards her.
"I'll cover for you." She says almost reluctantly as she takes it, gets up and makes her way out.
I put the needed money on the table and get up to make the return trip to my flat, to prepare to depart. Sighing heavily, I get out an old beat up brown leather suitcase and pack the necessities. I cannot help but pause in my packing as I reach out for the framed photograph that resides proudly upon my bedside table. I stare at it for a long moment, recalling happier times, when I first met Lucy, how I felt when we began our courtship, our wedding day, the birth of Rosie, and the precious moments we spent together as a family. However, the darkness of my actions will forever overshadow that happiness, and perhaps in truth, I was un-deserving of such happiness. I place the black and white photograph on top of my clothes before closing the case and fastening it tightly with the metal snaps. It seems that another deep breath gives me the courage to turn off the lights and make my way down to my truck and begin the trek of rediscovering my past. Still a scary, foreign concept to me. Let well enough alone, has been my philosophy, but something inside me throws caution to the wind as I drive to the airport.
After a fairly uneventful flight to New York, I quickly collect my bag at the luggage claim and head towards an information booth.
"Could you tell me where I can rent a car, and maybe even pre book a hotel room?" I ask the fairly young looking lady at the counter.
"Of course sir." She replies with a smile and turns to her computer to gather some information for me. "If you like I can arrange a hotel room for you here with my online connection. The car rental is just over there." She says nodding in the direction of the Budget rent a car. I look over and nod with a smile.
"Thank you. What information do you need for that hotel room?"
"Your name, where you want to stay, length of stay, credit card." She must be flipping through the web pages.
"Right, Rube Sofer, Englewood New Jersey, probably two nights, and here's my card." I say as I hand her my Amex. She takes it and starts typing something into her computer.
"Here you go. I've booked you room 712 at the Radisson Englewood, I just need you to sign here please." She scoots the paperwork towards me and I sign, then she returns my card.
"Thank you for your help."
"You're welcome. If there is anything else that you need, our helpful staff will gladly assist you." She says, smiling again. I nod my thanks and head over to rent a car. The sales clerk is just as helpful as the last lady I dealt with and I'm quickly on the road. It's funny, although I haven't been here in many years, I still feel as though I know my way as I drive through the streets. I cannot help however, driving by my old home, curious to see if it's still there, I drive through the familiar streets and turn onto Georgian Lane. 305, 295, 255, 243, I stop the car and look at the flat. Not much has changed since the day I left, I think as I put the car back in drive and make my way to the Radisson. Parking the rental car, I get out my suitcase and head in to check in. After signing a series of papers and taking the information offered, the clerk behind the desk disappears to get my key card.
"Your key sir." The gentleman says as he returns from the place they keep the cards.
"Thank you." I reply with a smile and take the card before heading to the elevator. I slide the card into the lock and open the door. Heading in, I put my suitcase on the bed and open it. My fingers brush against the photograph and I take it out and place it on the nightstand. I quickly put my shaving kit in the bathroom, and the rest of my clothes away. I always like to get settled in a new place, no matter how long or in this case, short the visit. I decide to have dinner and start my research tomorrow morning. That should give me enough time to get everything I need, I think as I head down to the dinning room. The food isn't as good as the waffle house, but it is passable I muse before heading back to my room to retire for the evening. Getting out a book, I sit in one of the comfortable chairs beside the large picture window. Finishing a few chapters, it's eleven NJ time, so I figure I should turn in. Want an early start tomorrow.
"Remember what I told ya." The gruff voice states from the front seat. I'm sitting with another gent in the back seat as the driver takes us to the destination.
"Yeah, we know boss." The other guy replies as the car comes to a stop in front of a bank and we depart.
"Don't forget, don't look nervous or nutthin'. Give the teller the note and just be nonchalant about it. Got it."
"Yeah Jimmy, Ruby there's got it." One of the goons says as I nod my ascent. We enter the bank, no one the wiser that we are going to knock it on it's head. I again wake with a jolt as my body seems tense as cold sweat runs down my brow. I don't have second thought about what I'm doing, I'm just wondering if it's causing my nightmares. Oh well, I think to myself as I ready myself for what lies ahead, dress, eat something and head out to the records office.
Parking the car, I notice that the busy records office I had expected isn't the case, as the lack of cars parked in the lot indicate. I open the door and step inside, to find a young man lounging at the desk engaged in a video game. To get his attention, I ring the bell once, which obviously startles him. There is a strange beep before he puts the controller on the desk and comes to the counter.
"Hi." He says too casually for my liking.
"Hi."
"You need some help?" he asks nicely enough.
"I do."
"You gotta take a number dude." He says and I turn to look behind me, only to find a number two. This place must get very busy, I think as I turn back to the lad.
"Well who got the first one?"
"I don't' know. I wasn't here on Friday."
"Well I need information about a women who lived here a while back. Marriage licenses, deeds, death certificates. That sort of thing."
"Sorry man, Miss Jacobs does records. I'm vehicle registration. She's not here. So you gotta come back. Wednesday is records."
"Well what's your name son?"
"Joey." He replies in his laid back, quasi-snarky tone.
"You know what people say about kids these days Joey." He looks at me dumbfounded and shakes his head no. "Well they say you're a bunch of self-obsessed, lazy numb nuts who've lost the capacity to think for themselves." What a load of crap! Did that just spill from my lips with the same ease as the wisdom I share with my reapers? This kid hardly deserves my effort.
"Well that's not true." He says disgusted with the very inference. "I'll kick their asses for saying so."
"Good for you Joey." I walk back and place the tile in his pocket. "Here's my number." I lean on the countertop. "Now how about restoring a dude's faith in America's youth and helping me out." Man I'm good, I think as I hide my smile.
"Anything for America dude." He replies with a bright smile. He opens the door to let me in.
"You're a good kid. A fine citizen you are" I reply as I make my way closer to the past.
"Knock yourself out. Just don't tell Miss Jacobs or she'll screw me up." He says with a hint of fear.
"Well that's not a problem." I reply, just happy to have won the battle. "Where do we go?"
"This is like it." He says pointing to the computer. "We went digital last year." He adds as he walks towards the computer. I can't believe it! I sigh and literally close my eyes in a moment of defeat before taking a seat.
I fumble with the computer keys, trying to at least get a name in the correct field. I clumsily type Lucy Sofer, but over twelve thousands choices come up on the screen.
"What's this?" I ask as I stare at the screen in bewilderment. Joey looks over.
"It's national man." He replies simply. "We're tied into the whole national database. BOOM! Instant information."
"I don't want national. I want here. This town."
"But this is like, more." He says simply as I sigh.
"I don't envy you Joey. You live in a world of twelve thousand menus and there's not a thing you can eat."
"Hey, hey." He says as he taps my shoulder. "I get that."
"I really hope you do."
"Dude. I mean there's loads of boxes in the basement."
"Is that right?"
"Yeah, come on." I get up and follow him, a bit of relief hits as I hope to find something.
Finding a bunch of well-labelled boxes, we begin to sift through the papers.
"Everything in its place laid out. You can touch it. You can smell it. You can see it."
"Sure, but no internet porn."
"Someone ever tell you that that stuff will make you go blind?"
"Acceptable risk." I just look at him. "Hey look at this." He exclaims. "It's a birth certificate for a Rose Sofer. That help?"
"That's his daughter." The words are foreign in my ears, his daughter, when it's my daughter that I want to say. I look at it carefully, Rose Ann Sofer. Ah my sweet Rosie, I think as I skim the rest of the contents. Rube John Sofer and Lucy Souia Debroushi listed as parents. I cannot help my eyes tearing up slightly.
"A pile for this one right here. Huh?" I say as I put it on the corner of the desk.
"Man, this shit is old. Like eighty years. Indians still roaming the plans."
"Smoke a lot of marijuana Joey?"
"Not till after work."
We work our way through the many boxes and he disappears for a moment, returning with yet another box. I shutter at the thought of finding nothing of use.
"This is the last one dude." He says triumphantly as he brings it over to me. "What do you have there?"
"Death certificate."
"Whose?"
"The mother."
"Well, everyone's gotta die right?"
"Yeah, that's right." I reply still staring at it wistfully.
"Rube this is my cousin Lucy." Frank says as she smiles shyly. She has the perfect eyes, big, brown, and expressive. Her lips are painted in a light pink, otherwise she wears no makeup. Her dark hair is in loose curls that cascade around her slender shoulders, I could have just stared at her for eternity.
"Please to meet you." I say as I extend my hand in greeting, she meets my gesture half way and we shake hands. She nods and the three of us head out to the river for a picnic lunch. Wading in the cool water at the edge of the river, her hair is gently caressed by the summer breeze, as is her skirt. She reminds me of an angle as she tries to lure us closer to the rivers bank.
"You're going to love this. It's got the daughter's name on it." He says as the bottom of the box gives and the contents fall to the floor. "Sorry." He starts collecting the pages. I still must be off in dream world. "Dude! This guy looks just like you." He says holding up a sketch that resembled me with the word wanted boldly across the top and bank robbery along the bottom.
"Can I see it?" I reach out and take a look at it. "Humph, souvenir." I say as I put it aside to take with me. After a long day of searching and not really finding what I had been looking for. I am reminded of the memories I do have, and how grateful I should be to have them.
"Hey Joey, thanks again for your help." I say as I finish taking photocopies of the documents and put them in a brown envelope.
"Yeah dude, no problem. Glad I could help." He says as he returns to the desk and I make my way out.
I return to the hotel and put the envelope on the bed. I hadn't thought I would get as far as I have in my inquiry. An extra day away won't hurt, I muse as I get the number for the airport to book my return ticket. I don't really feel up to going through the documents again, so I put them on the bottom of my suitcase before going down to the dinning room for a fairly late supper. Heading for an evening stroll, I find myself saying goodbye. Perhaps that was the problem the last time I left, I hadn't said the proper goodbye. Going back to my room, I pack most of my things so that I won't have to tomorrow morning and prepare for bed.
"But she's too young for you." My brother protests as I ready myself. He knows better than to stop me from doing something once my mind is set.
"That doesn't matter. I have to do right by her. I have to do right by the child she carries." I say simply.
"It's not yours." He says, anger in his tone. "You're going to ruin your life because of some other guys mistake."
"She can't raise a child on her own."
"Rube, listen to me. You don't have to marry her."
"Listen to me. Not only is it the right thing to do, but I happen to love her."
"Since when?"
"I wish you'd just be happy for us." I say as I straighten my tie.
"You know if dad were here, he'd kill you!"
"He's not, and I'm pretty sure he'd have enough respect for me to understand." I leave him to pickup Lucy and go to city hall for our civil service. It's a simple service, her parents are there, as is my brother. We then go to her parent's home for dinner.
This morning the dream didn't cause me to jolt awake, nor wake up in a cold, clammy sweat. I get up, shower, dress, and have something to eat for breakfast before heading to the front desk to check out.
"I hope you've enjoyed your stay."
"I did." I lie with a nod and sign the release. I drive to the airport, drop off the rental and head to the correct gate. I cannot wait to get back, I've missed my home, my restaurant, even my reapers. The flight back is just as uneventful as my flight there. I try not to sleep, for fear of a nightmare, so I plug those little headphones into the jack and see what the movie is before opening my book. We land in good time, and disembark, family and friends greet my fellow passengers, no one to greet me, but I prefer it that way. Far less questions, I think as I head to baggage claim and collect my lone suitcase. Heading to the parking lot, I find my truck and go home.
This morning, I meet the crew at the restaurant for breakfast and Post-its. Just when I thought my search had hit another roadblock, George's reap is at a long term care facility where a friend of mine happens to work. So I accompany George on her reap in order to have a chat with my connection.
"I don't like hospitals." She says in a tone I cannot quite place.
"Why?"
"Who the hell likes hospitals?"
"Well let's see. Doctors, nurses, orderlies." I pick up a newspaper. "People who are sick and want to get better, people who know people who are sick and want them to get better." We sit and I open the newspaper.
"I don't see anyone around here who looks like they're getting any better." She says under her breath. Sometimes that girl baffles me.
"Well it's a long term care ward." I notice Penny. "They're probably not going out the way they came in." she follows my gaze and watches as Penny removes the soul of an elderly gentleman.
"Do we know her?"
"We do. Natural causes is one of the nicer assignments for a reaper." I explain. "Especially in a hospital. You're not chasing anyone down, everyone has a nametag. Nice gig." I turn back to the newspaper.
"Except everyone is really old." She says, turning up her nose I'm sure. I turn to look at her.
"You got something against old people?" I have to ask.
"They just freak me out a little and the really old ones irritate me."
"That's nice." I reply wondering if that had been a jab at me, considering that I've been undead for over a hundred years. We finish our little age chat and she goes off to do her reap. I find Penny at the desk and decide to ask for her help, she may know someone who may have the answers I'm looking for.
"So who is this Rosie?" she asks writing something on a Post-it.
"Well nobody you know."
"Is it somebody you knew, is she related to you?" she asks just stopping herself from handing me the Post-it. "Is she related to you?" she asks again.
"Yes." I reply quickly. I think she says whoa under her breath as she hands me the Post-it. I hold it in my hands and look at it for a moment.
"Beau Chene Hospice. It's a decent hospital. Do they take good care of people there?"
"No Rube, they water them once a week." She replies. "Look at you, driving on the wrong side of the road." I place the Post-it in my wallet over the black and white photograph. "It's not good." I close my wallet.
"Thanks for this." I say putting my wallet in my back pocket.
"How's Der Waffle Haus? Kiffany?"
"Fine."
"Your merry band of reapers?"
"They're awful."
"Okay, you have to help me." George interrupts.
"That's one of the better ones."
"Better one what?" George asks.
"What's the problem George?" I ask.
"I can't get her to go. She won't follow me."
"Nina forgets things." Penny says.
"Uh yeah, I picked up on that." George replies snidely. Penny glances towards me as if to say, you put up with this?
"What Penny is saying is that she has no idea that she's dead." I clarify.
"I get that. How do I get her to go?"
"I'm telling you George. You have to get Nina to connect to her own death before she can move on."
"How the freak am I supposed to do that?" at that Penny looks up.
"Ooh, she's got a mouth on her."
"Always a pleasure Penny, I'll see you around the campus. " I say tapping the countertop, turning on my heel, and heading out.
"Are you kidding me? You're just bolting!" George demands.
"I've got fish to fry little Georgia." I say over my shoulder as I walk down the hallway, leaving her in my wake with another piece of my pasts puzzle in hand.
Tonight I hope to sleep soundly, not be woken with nightmares. I even take something that should literally conk me out. Feeling the effects I almost fall into bed and allow sleep to take me away.
"I can't believe we did it!" Jimmy says happily as he divides the taking. The plan had gone without a hitch, robbing a bank on a Friday. He hands Tony and Frankie their share and looks over at me.
"Here's you bit." He says tossing the bag at me. I catch it, noticing that it's significantly smaller than the others take. I say nothing, knowing to be grateful to share in the profits at all. I sigh heavily as I think of the things I can do with the money for Rosie and Lucy.
"You know you can't go back right?" Jim says with a frown. "They'll have wanted posters up. A bounty on your head."
"What?" I ask not understanding his comment.
"Yeah, you're pretty much as good as dead." He states simply. "Why do you think we move around so much?" he adds.
"I wasn't aware of that." I say under my breath as I tuck the roll of bills in my vest pocket. "I guess I ought to hide out for a bit so that they'll forget about me. Then I can head home."
"You ain't going nowhere." Tony says as he pulls his gun out of its place, tucked in the waistband of his pants.
"Now, now Tony. Rube's a smart man. He knows how all of this works." Jim says, not knowing that I hadn't a clue as to how these things work. The only thing I want to do is get out of here as quickly as possible, press the rewind button, and never to have agreed to help these men. I'm not sure exactly what happens next, but I find myself shot at close range. Funny thing though, I don't feel anything as I crumple to the floor in heap, the blood oozing from the wound. I'm pretty sure I'm dead as I stand in front of myself and watch as the thugs continue on as though I hadn't been shot. I guess I was just dead weight or something that needed to be disposed of.
"Hey." I hear a voice before I turn around. When I finally do, I see a man I'd say is in his fifties. Seems nice enough, I think as I make my way towards him.
"Get that body out of here." I hear Jim yell at Tony. "Why the hell did you do that? He was a good man." He adds as he slaps the back of the younger man's head.
"I get that I'm dead, but I don't understand why they can't see me."
"The dead aren't visible to the living."
"You can see me."
"That's because I'm undead. There is a huge difference with being dead and undead. By the way, the names Frederick."
"Rube." I say and extend my hand in formal greeting.
"Pleased to meet you Rube. I should mention that you'll be joining the ranks."
"Ranks?" I ask.
"Yeah, you're new situation is that of grim reaper. I'll introduce you to your crew and we'll go from there." I'm still a little bewildered. "Don't worry, I'll show you the ropes."
"Okay." I say as we make our way out of the warehouse to a nearby pub.
It's a bit strange that after seeing Penny at the hospital, she happens to bump into me at the waffle house. I know she knows that I've looked into the Post-it that she gave me the other day. I guess this is just a follow up of her own. Kiffany spots Penny right away and comes over to our table.
"What can I get you?" she asks with a smile.
"The usual." Penny replies.
"Ice tea, without the ice."
"That's it. To go please, thank you."
"Still doing the no ice nonsense." I say in an attempt to lighten the mood of her visit.
"Hey, you go down with the Titanic and see how you feel about ice." She quips. I raise my hand in defeat.
"Fair enough." I say in jest.
"For the record. I'm not doing this." She says as she reaches into her pocket, producing a Post-it. "But seeing as we go back a ways." She holds it in her small hands before placing it on the table in front of me. I touch it, knowing there isn't a damn thing I can do about it. Picking it up, it almost doesn't seem real, but R. Sofer is written above Beau Chene Hospice, E. T. D. seven fourteen pm.
"This your reap?" I ask, already knowing the answer. She wouldn't bring me the Post-it if it wasn't. She rests her chin on her hand and nods her ascent.
"I don't know if I'm doing you a favour." She says simply.
"I don't either." I reply as she gently takes the Post-it back before getting her ice tea from Kiffany. Seven fourteen is seared in my mind as Roxy sits across from me.
"You're going to see her, aren't you?" Roxy asks as Kiffany comes over to see if she would like anything. "Coffee please." She replies with a smile.
"I don't know."
"But I know you." She says.
"I know you do." I reply as I get up to leave. "See you later?" I add.
"Yeah, later. Just be careful."
"Always." I say as I make my way out. I don't have too much time to get there to say my goodbye. What am I going to say? I wonder as I park the truck and make my way towards the front doors. My heart says go, my gut says stop as I freeze in my tracks. I have to do this, I coax myself to put one foot in front of the other.
"Rosie Sofer's room." I ask a nurse at the front desk.
"And you are?"
"Her son." I say realising how stupid the words are, the nurse would know that I'm not her son because I've never visited her before. Perhaps she's new, because she nods.
"She's out in the garden sitting on her favourite bench. She does that every night before supper." The nurse says and directs me to the garden.
"Thank you." I smile and head out. I meet Penny outside, she seems a bit lost as to finding her reap.
"I haven't figured out who she is yet." Penny says looking at me. "I'll let you know." She adds. I nod over in the direction where Rosie sits on the bench.
"She's over there." Penny looks in the direction of my nod. The silver haired woman sits alone, wearing a baby blue floral printed dress with a lace collar, a single strand of pearls, and a rose sweater. She seems sweet. "That's Rosie." I say. Any father would know his child. I'm suddenly light headed, as though I don't have enough air to function and I sit myself on the steps. I look up at Penny. "I don't think I can do this." I say as Penny sits beside me. She reaches out and holds onto my arm for a moment to reassure me that everything will be fine. I take her hand and give it a gentle squeeze of thanks. She leaves me to do her reap. Sitting herself beside Rosie, they talk for a bit. I finally find the courage to speak to her.
"Hi Rosie." I say nervously.
"Hi papa." She says recognising me, she has the biggest smile on her face. In that moment Penny rubs Rosie's arm and I see the familiar glow of soul removal. It breaks my heart into a million pieces to know I have so little time. As though she knows what I'm thinking, Penny stands and meets half way.
"I'm sorry." She says quietly and walks away.
"Where are you going?" Rosie asks. I walk towards her and sit beside her.
"Shhh, it's all right." I say as I stroke her head as I often did when she was a little girl. "Go to sleep." I whisper. She reaches out and strokes my arm.
"I'll be loving you. Sing it papa." She whispers, encouraging me to once again sing her to sleep. I gently kiss her forehead, as I had the last time I saw her. I don't know how, but I find my voice.
"I'll be loving you, always. With a love that's true, always. When the things you plan, need a helping hand. I will understand, always."
"Are you leaving again, papa?" she asks. I lean in and put an arm around her shoulder.
"No Rosie. I'm not going anywhere." I say as she rests her head upon my shoulder and closes her eyes. I hold her gently and just let the memories wash over me as she falls asleep for the last time in my arms. At least I am here to protect her, I muse.
Returning I find myself back at the waffle house talking with Roxy. It's funny that as much as I felt compelled to hide what I did from her before, I open up and let her know what's been going on with me. I even tell her where I disappeared to for those days.
"Are you okay?" she asks as she puts the ceramic mug back on the counter. I go quiet, somehow I'm sure she knows, and I'm sure she understands. We just sit in an understood silence.