35 Clancy Meets His Past
"Life can only be understood backwards; but it must be lived forwards." - Søren Kierkegaard
George laid her book open and face down on the coffee table and got up from the couch to look out a window. It was late afternoon and the light was receding. The living room's shadows were deepening, a process accelerated by the heavy clouds moving in. Probably would rain soon. George didn't mind the dark. She could read without strain in just about total blackness. She was nearing the end of the book and the author seemed to be meandering more than pointing towards a useful answer. She hadn't expected an answer. The question was a tough one. Late last night in her new old house she had awakened in a sweat. She was reliving that moment more than 10 years before when she realized her little experiment in deflecting some guy from keeping his appointment had resulted in hundreds, actually more likely thousands, of unscheduled deaths. Real people just like her, or just like she had been, going about their business, their private lives, and they died because she decided to mess with one guy's fate, some guy she didn't know and really didn't care about and she had never seen nor heard anything about him again, or his son who she accused of inflicting on her unconscious body all manner of sexual perversions she had taken from Penthouse magazines - it turned out to be one of the few useful things she had picked up in her brief college career. She had been so traumatized by what she had done that since then she had never considered interfering with another appointment until Conrad brought the issue back to the surface. She had closed the book on Conrad, but that didn't change the fact that she stood by while some pretty horrendous shit happened to a great many innocent people whose only offense in this universe was getting a postit issued with their name on it. She liked to, or maybe had to, think her hands were clean, but there were times when her job, or her calling, as Rube liked to think of it, gnawed at her. Rube insisted it was a calling. Something Father Adair echoed. Mason sometimes picked up a bottle, booze or pills, to numb his mind. Daisy had found Tommy and now clutched at an unreaper life she had thought forever lost. Roxy hid within her career as a detective. And Maria, she didn't stick around long enough find her own defense. No. Maria had picked the wrong defense - returning home was not an option. Was that George's fault too? Could George have done something more to transition her? They sent George to save her and she failed. That was the truth of it.
She was hungry. She didn't bother with the lights. She went into the kitchen to find something easy. Pasta would work. She put a pot of water on the stove and turned on the heat. She had plenty of meatballs and sauce left from yesterday in the frig and she put those in another pan with low heat to get it warmed up. It had been a long while since she had used this stove but she thought she could get the pasta to finish close to the sauce getting to hot. She went back to the couch and her book. She heard a crack of thunder and the beginnings of a good rain on the window.
She could get used to living alone. Her undead life was pretty good, aside from the occasional nightmare and then having to watch people die everyday. Not bad really. And the quiet accented by the rain pattering on the window...the doorbell rang. Damn. She put the book back down and got up. She stopped on the way to the door. She felt like she knew the soul just outside. Maybe she could pretend no one was home. The lights were out. She focused on the soul and oh shit. She reached the door and opened it wide. Her dear Dad was standing there. He had been looking to his right waiting for a response to the doorbell but at the door opening had pulled his focus to her face. No recognition. When she had briefly met him last year her focus was on Reggie. She looked more closely. He had aged. He must be well into his fifties by now and his hair was showing grey.
She said, "May I help you?"
"Hi. My name is Clancy Lass." He tried to look beyond her. She knew he couldn't see much. She hadn't turned on any lights. Kinda weird maybe. He continued, "My...ex-wife, who owns this house, asked me to stop by and check things out - do an inspection."
Dear Mom, suspicious as ever and on top of the details even from inside a rest institution. She said, "My name is Millie. I was hired by Thomas Hesburgh to housesit. I really don't know any details about the ownership or anything."
"Well, I'm not sure why Mr. Hesburgh would get involved..."
What the hell. Better just roll with it. "Whatever, Mr. Lass, please come in." She stepped back to give him room and he entered her house, what used to be his house. Once the living asserted their rights the undead were pushed aside. She shut the door and flipped the switch in the foyer for some light. "I dozed off. Let me get some lights on." She guided him into the living room. She flipped another switch and the room lit up.
"I won't be long. My ex-wife...she's in the hospital...and she called this afternoon asking me to stop by and report back to her. I'm sorry for bothering you like this...unannounced and all."
He really didn't recognize her. It was...11 years ago that a much younger Charlotte, his student, had introduced the two of them, but then maybe his focus was on Charlotte and he couldn't remember the quiet introverted sidekick. And then his mind maybe couldn't take in that the girl he met 11 years ago would still be around looking exactly the same as she did back then. And likely over 11 years how many thousands of young college girls had he seen in his classes? But she wasn't that quiet mouse anymore. She wasn't that girl. "It's no bother. Please sit down. Can I get you some coffee?"
"Oh, no. I don't want to put you out. If I could I'll just take a quick look around and be on my way."
"Sure. What would you like to see first?"
"Maybe a quick guided tour?"
"Sure." She led the way into the kitchen. She turned the stove off. He noticed that. She had been up and about in a dark house. She flipped on the outside backyard lights and opened the back door. Not much had changed. There was a small table and a few chairs out on the back porch. They walked through the downstairs rooms. She hadn't moved or changed anything down here.
She led the way upstairs where they entered the master bedroom first. She flipped the lights on. He paused a few steps inside. She knew memories were hitting him. Did he regret taking up with Charlotte? He stood a little straighter and gathering himself, smiled at her and nodded to move on. She led him to Reggie's old room. And then to her room. She jiggled the door handle opening it up wide. She almost forgot those framed photos on her dresser. Those would freak him out, and raise questions. She ghosted them all and turned on the light switch. He walked in. His eyes widened. Good thing he didn't get a chance to see those photos. That was close. He looked at the bed first and hesitated before his eyes skipped to each object in the room. She realized that she had put everything back just as it once was, even a couple of pictures on the wall that had been forgotten in the attic since her death. For the few people who might ever enter her bedroom none of this would matter. After all, how many people knew what her bedroom looked like 11 years ago? He was one of the very few. She had even found her favorite old bed comforter and her old lamp. All the old furniture - her dresser, side table, footlocker - all were back as they had been once. Oh, he did not look well at all. Maybe he remembered too well.
"Mr. Lass, are you OK?"
"Fine...I'm fine." He looked down, closed his eyes, and shook his head. "OK," he seemed to say more to himself than her. "OK." He gave her a weak smile trying to hide his discomfort.
She led the way downstairs. The house was all lit up now. Normal even. At the bottom of the stairs she didn't stop but led him into the living room. "Mr. Lass. Please take a seat." She should have pushed him out the door, but his reaction to her room touched something. She liked that he still remembered her room, and that it hit him so hard. After all these years, he hadn't forgotten her. She decided he would be staying for dinner. The best way to get answers was to ask the questions yourself. She wasn't sure what those questions might be. She would think of those later. And she had him right here. And dear Mom would be finding out she was housesitting soon enough. She would probably blow up at Trip. Dear Mom was so afraid of her. Maybe she should be.
He sat down and noticed her book. "Kierkegaard's Fear and Trembling. That's a lot for..." He looked her over again. Probably trying to fit the odd pieces together - her appearance with her behavior maybe or her choice of reading. He wouldn't be the first. "I read this years ago. I found it hard to take apart." He picked the book up, careful not to lose her place.
She said, "God ordered Abraham to take his son up to the top of a mountain and sacrifice him to God by his own hand…and a sharp knife."
He put the book back down. "It's another aspect of the question why an almighty righteous God would allow bad things to happen to good people."
"And perhaps, is an act good in and of itself or can any act be good if God directs it be done? What if God had not stopped him? Would the act of killing his own son be forgiven because it was ordered by God, or would Abraham's neighbors not accept his explanation that God told him to do it and therefore it was just fine?"
"Why would someone so young be pondering such issues? Are you...?"
"I'll be attending the University this summer semester, at least part time. And I'm older than I look." She paused. "So your ex-wife asked you to come check out the house. You used to live here?" Obviously.
"I did...seems like a very long time ago. A lifetime ago." He looked around. "But much of the same furniture it seems. She didn't change much."
"Well, Mr. Lass, I was just starting something for dinner. Nothing fancy, just some leftover pasta sauce with meatballs. Why don't you stay?" The rain kicked up just then and there was a bright flash of lightening followed closely by a loud peal of thunder. "This storm is supposed to pass soon. Eat a little something hot and then you can be on your way."
He looked like he was about to say no, but hesitated. Something crossed his mind. He smiled and said, "OK. Sounds good. If it's not too much trouble."
"No trouble at all. Besides I know the ending already. God stays his hand at the last moment." She got up to get that water boiling. She said over her shoulder, "But we never get answers to the real questions."
Over the pasta sitting at the old dining table she discovered her old man was actually a pretty interesting guy. He sat in his place at the table - it probably didn't occur to him to sit somewhere else, and George couldn't resist taking her old place directly to his left. She never really knew him when she was alive. They never talked, not really, but now over the pasta she got caught up on a sanitized version of his last 11 years. While he and her dear Mom never reconciled they did find some common ground, likely due to Reggie. He knew something of John and that he was a detective, and obviously wanted to learn more. Reggie was keeping a lot away from both her parents, a lot more from Clancy than Joy. In Joy's case the fact Reggie was living with her undead sister probably was the root cause for her...need for a rest. George didn't feel in the least guilty about that - not after what Joy had done. Maybe the torture and seeing that dark side to her undead daughter played a role too. Anyway, as for Reggie and John, George could see the handwriting on that wall as could Joy. Reggie wasn't letting John go and John was forever tied to reapers. Guess who's coming to dinner and staying permanently? Joy would get over it, or not. Clancy's ignorance was a blessing. He seemed in a good place. He knew he had made mistakes. He had picked himself up and soldiered on. Not that he told her all about his secrets. And she didn't push or pry. He seemed to have found some measure of peace. That was OK with her and she was happy for him. Life goes on...and sometimes the dead don't. They all had to soldier on any way they could.
She lost track of time. "Let me check the outside." George poked her head out the back door. The rain had stopped and the clouds moved away. The night air smelled fresh. "Let's have some coffee out back. The night air smells great."
She grabbed a few towels and wiped down the chairs and table on the back porch. He didn't resist. He was enjoying himself and her company. She learned a lot about which classes and professors were to be avoided. He and Charlotte had a decent working relationship and he recommended her classes.
The pot of coffee was ready and she brought a tray with cups out to the porch table. She noticed his eyes were pulled to watch her hands when she put her usual two sugars and some cream into her cup. That triggered something and she watched as in a heartbeat he dropped into somewhere dark. For him as for her this house must trigger a great many memories sometimes bringing with them abrupt shifts in emotions. He shifted attention, stared up at the night sky. Maybe he forgot she was even here. To bring him back she asked, "So. Can you report back to your ex-wife that the house is being well cared for?"
He blinked but still looked at the stars, but she didn't think his mind was on those stars at all. This house could be a trap for him as much as for her. Maybe he hadn't heard her. But, a few seconds and he turned to her and said, "Yes. Yes, I think I can." After another long moment he continued, "Did Mr. Hesburgh say how long he expected you take care of the house?"
Good question. How long will Joy be away? "It won't be long."
"I believe she lost her job."
"I wouldn't worry about that. Mr. Hesburgh, I believe, will ask her to work for him." Oops, she probably shouldn't have revealed she knew that much about what Trip had planned for Joy.
"Really?" He pondered that. "Why? I mean...I don't understand...his concern for her. I believe he arranged for this hospital stay and seems to be paying for the whole cost. No one's approached me, that's for sure."
Neither he nor George had mentioned the kind of hospital Joy was resting at, but he must suspect now she knew. Although, he had no idea what drove Joy over the edge, what she had been put through, or maybe what she put herself through. Reggie was just fine with the world as she found it. She was blessed and a little cursed with the ability to see the world as it is. Joy got bent out of shape when she found out the world wasn't what she thought it should to be. Joy really got bent out of shape knowing her dead daughter was very much around and quite friendly with her still living daughter.
From the front they could hear a car door slam and then another and voices. That would be Reggie and John. She needed to head this one off. She jumped up. "Why don't you relax here while I see who's arrived." She headed back into and through the house.
Dear Dad didn't stay put. He followed her inside.
George caught Reggie coming through the front door. "Hi, Reggie. Your father is here inspecting the house." John was right behind her. He was carrying a large pizza box.
Reggie stopped short. "Dad's here?"
Clancy stopped at the kitchen entrance. "Hi Sweetie." He caught sight of John.
George said, "Yes, your father is here. Your mother asked him to stop by and inspect the house. The house that I was hired by Mr. Hesburgh to housesit."
John sized things up. He handed the box to Reggie and stepped towards Clancy with his hand out stretched. "Mr. Lass. Good to see you again. Reggie and I were dropping in to do our own inspection."
Clancy seemed to have indigestion. She could see that he and Reggie had similar expressions.
John said, "We brought something, a pizza, you guys want to share? We're starved. We've been out most of day and on the way home we thought we'd stop by."
She said, "Well, I'm glad to see you all have met. Please come in. We just had something to eat and we were having a little coffee out back. Why don't you set up in on the dining table? I'll move our things to join you in there."
She smiled at John over her shoulder. And then went out back to move their cups and the coffee pot back inside.
She entered the dining room. Reggie already had plates for the two of them. Clancy slid right back into his seat at the head of the table. Reggie had taken her old seat opposite her father, and John found Joy's place. George, of course, sat in her old spot.
"Millie, here, was explaining how Mr. Hesburgh hired her to housesit. I'm not clear on that." He smiled at her. "She's doing a wonderful job. It's like she's lived here before. But I wonder… Honey, why you didn't move back in?"
Reggie looked at John and then back at Clancy. "Well... We signed a lease over at the other house. And we're committed over there...for a little more time. Maybe later we can move back in here."
Clancy said, "We?"
John looked at Reggie. Obviously there were details in Reggie's life she had neglected to tell her father. John wasn't the type to keep the deception going right to Clancy's face and he said, "We've moved in together."
She kept quiet. This was fun, funny even, watching her sister explain her living arrangements. She placed her hand firmly over her mouth.
Reggie jumped in with a big smile. "You know, John, why don't we talk our landlord into breaking our lease over there? We could move in here with...M..Millie. There's plenty of room...and..."
Oh shit. George saw that Clancy didn't know what to say. She said, "Reggie, you know, I have a contract with Mr. Hesburgh to housesit?"
"That's perfect. Then you have to stay. And we'll move in. What do you think, John?"
"Maybe we should talk to your mother about this before..."
Reggie said, "Oh. I'm sure she'll think it's a great idea."
Reggie probably didn't really give a shit what Mom would think about it. And just like that she lost her house, again.