Elaine Parker did not know what was worse: moving to Illinois or firing Teresa. Teresa had been with Elaine when Alan and Kristen were still alive. But once Teresa was plagued with arthritis and diabetes, Elaine had to make some hard choices. Well, maybe it wasn't that hard. Teresa was an old maid that still had a niece in Ohio. She had somewhere to go, so Elaine had no reason to feel guilty.
Not that Elaine would have felt guilty in the first place. If there was something that she learned by her third marriage, it was that life doesn't make room for you. You have to claw and scheme your way to get anything decent.
Highland Park was decent enough. Hell, it made it on the National Register of Historic Places. There is that Frank Lloyd Wright house that everybody keeps raving about. But even though she was surrounded by suburbia, Elaine couldn't stand being so damn close to Lake Michigan. She used to ask Teresa to wheel her to the balcony. All Elaine could see was miles of water. And it didn't help that the sun created a glare.
Her third husband insisted on buying the house. Now that he was dead, Elaine did not want to sell the house. Who knew what his children from his hussy first wife might do? Elaine drank down her pills with a Mai Tai, and rested her head against the wheelchair. It was time for her majesty to have her afternoon nap.
Elaine's closed eyes shifted with the autumn breeze.
"One, two, Freddy's coming for you…"
Her eyes shot open. She hadn't heard that rhyme since…
"Consuelo…"
It took a while for Elaine's blurred vision to readjust in the sunlight. When they did, horror crept along her spine. A few feet from where Elaine was sitting stood a sign: WELCOME TO SPRINGWOOD.
In panic, Elaine stood up from the wheelchair. Surprised at her newfound agility, Elaine looked behind her to see that the chair had disappeared. Elaine touched the area where the chair would have been. She could see the road leading to the next town. But it was as though she was looking through a looking glass. Elaine reached out, and it was apparent that she wouldn't be able to escape. It was like a transparent wall. She looked closely at her left hand, and noticed that all her age spots had vanished. In fact, her right hand was flawless as well. Elaine's mind turned to sarcasm to cope: What's next? Elvis?
The trees rustled around Elaine as walked down the road leading into Springwood. She found herself in the downtown area, but there was no soul in sight. Elaine wondered why she would dream of Springwood of all places. Or, at least she hoped it was a dream. For all she knew, her wheelchair might have flipped over, and she was struggling on the ground in a drug and alcohol-fueled stupor. Teresa would never have left me alone, thought Elaine. You just can't find a good Mexican worker anymore.
Elaine passed by store fronts that she had not seen in years. She stood before a bakery that Kristen had loved. Elaine examined the pink frame of the door until she caught her reflection in the window. She was aghast to see her 24-year-old self.
"It's amazing that time never stops here."
Elaine turned around to see Heather Johnson standing before her.
"Heather?" asked a dumbfounded Elaine. Heather appeared the way she looked before the leukemia claimed her. Heather's red hair floated in the wind. She reminded Elaine of a teenaged Alice.
"Everything is in its right place," said Heather.
"This can't be real," said Elaine. "You've been dead for a long time."
"I'm supposed to lead you to them," said Heather.
"Lead me to who?" asked Elaine.
Heather extended her hand. "Do you trust me, Elaine?"
Elaine wanted to say go fuck yourself. But seeing Heather's sorrowful eyes stirred something in Elaine's heart. It was a feeling of empathy that Elaine thought she lost when they torched him. After all, Elaine was not always the queen bitch that life made her into.
She didn't answer Heather. Elaine joined hands with Heather instead, and allowed herself to be led to an unknown destination.
Hand in hand, Heather and Elaine journeyed down Springwood Avenue and then crossed into Elm Street. Elaine's heart jumped, but she didn't verbalize her fear. Elaine kept her eyes down, for she didn't want to recognize the homes. Each house filled with dirty secrets. Elaine only raised her eyes when Heather stopped walking. They both stood before the Thompson residence. Not the house on 1428 Elm Street. But the home that Marge and Donald shared before it all happened.
"I can't go in there," said Elaine.
"But they've been waiting for you," said Heather.
Suddenly, Elaine couldn't act tough. The blonde powerhouse that made "andale" her motto couldn't boss anybody if she tried. "Will you go with me?" pleaded Elaine.
"I'm not allowed to," replied Heather. "I wasn't there."
"Is…Kristen going to be there?" asked Elaine.
"I don't know," said Heather.
Elaine didn't know whether to feel pained or relieved. But the confusing feelings soon gave way to bitterness—something that Elaine could always rely on. "Well, you're a lot of help!" exclaimed Elaine. "You bring me here and you can't even tell…"
Elaine turned to confront Heather, but Heather was gone.
"I can't be here!" yelled Elaine. "What the hell is going on? Consuelo…"
Elaine shrieked at the sky like a mad woman. "Consuelo…the morphine is making me hallucinate again. Consuelo?"
"Shut up, Elaine. For once in your life, recognize something authentic."
Of course it was going to be her, thought Elaine. She looked over her shoulder to see Marge Thompson standing akimbo.
"You're the last one, Elaine," said Marge. "It's time for you to take your place among us."
Elaine was surrounded by shadows that merged into people. They were all there.
The Grays.
The Lanes.
The Lantzses.
The Crusels.
The Whites.
The Stantons.
The Andersons.
And Ross Kincaid.
Donald stood beside Marge. "Help her understand," said Donald. His eyesight was directed behind Elaine.
A warm hand was placed on Elaine's shoulder. It was his. Even after the other marriages, Elaine could never forget his touch.
"Elaine, darling, we're together again," said Alan Parker. Elaine looked into his brown eyes, and the love that she felt him resurfaced. She was truly her twenty-something self again.
"Is she…?" asked Elaine.
Alan finished her question. "No, Elaine, Kristen isn't here."
"None of our children are here," said Marge, "This is the price that we must pay."
"What are we doing then?" asked Elaine.
"We wait…" said Donald.
They were no longer in the street anymore. Elaine and the others were surrounded by steel pipes that creaked with coldness. She recognized the boiler room where they burned Freddy Krueger alive.
"Wait until what?" asked Elaine.
"Until we're needed again…if Heather's grandson falls," said Donald.
Grandson thought Elaine. Alice must have had a child. When Kristen died, Elaine left Springwood and never looked back.
Alan held Elaine tightly. "Let's hope it never comes to that."
Warm tears ran down Elaine's face. So, this is what the afterlife had in store. She would never see her daughter again. But wouldn't it be worth it? To know that all of their parental love wasn't in vain.
"There's nothing that you could've done," said the male paramedic.
Consuelo cried, and muttered prayers in Spanish.
The paramedic and his coworkers lifted Elaine's cold body out of the wheelchair, and loaded her on the stretcher.
In the afterlife, Elaine and the Elm Street parents waited for what felt like an eternity. And then, the pipes crackled with steam and fire. He was back. Alice's son must have fallen.
The parents shook in fear as a familiar figure's shadow appeared along the walls.
"For Nancy," said Marge and Donald together.
"For Tina."
"For Rod."
"For Glen."
Every parent uttered their child's name to remember. They needed the strength to face him. They created him with their vigilantism. They made him into a bigger predator than he was alive. Maybe in death they could finally stop him for good.
With little hope, Elaine and Alan looked at each other sadly as they said her name: "For Kristen."