IV.

"I think...I think I got hit by a bus," Victor blurted before he could stop himself. He remembered it all so clearly now. Opening the gate, stepping into the crosswalk...Before he'd known it, the bus was barreling toward him. Even the memory of the impact was starting to come back. It had hurt. Really hurt. At least before he hit the pavement--and that was the last he remembered. Victor had meant to sort of lead into his declaration, but the words just kind of flew out of his mouth. Victoria did a double take, and then stared at him, her mouth open.

"Hit by a bus?" Victoria sounded shocked. She grasped his hand almost convulsively. "A bus? How? My goodness, Victor, that's terrible! Are you sure?" Victor nodded slowly.

"I think so...Yes, I'm sure. I think. As I said, it was raining outside, and I had my big umbrella. My vision was a bit impeded, I suppose. I went down the walk and into the street--you know you have to cross the street to get to Victor and Elizabeth's house--and then I...All right, Victoria, why are you looking at me like that?"

Victoria was giving him the look that she had specialized during their marriage, and only used on select occasions. Roughly translated into words, it meant "Victor, you idiot." Of course, Victoria would never say anything like that aloud, so a look had to suffice. Actually, that look was sort of a partner to Victor's "Victoria, you are completely out of your tree and/or misinterpreting what I said" stare. Until this moment, Victor had thought he missed sharing those looks.

Anyway, Victoria gave him the look a moment longer before she said in a dumbfounded tone, "Victor, you know that's a dangerous intersection in front of our house! And what on earth were you doing walking in the rain? Why didn't you take the car?"

Victor was slightly taken aback. "Because I don't have a driver, Victoria. After you died, I figured I didn't need to use the car all that much anymore. I wasn't doing that much traveling without you." But Victoria was not deterred.

"Well, why not have had Victor or Elizabeth come and get you? It would have been safer. Or you could have just taken the bus. It stops right next door, where the church used to be." Was Victoria implying that his death could have been avoided? Or just that he was a senile old man? Victor wasn't sure. Maybe she wasn't implying anything, and was just concerned. After all, they'd had plenty of arguments quite similar to this one while they'd been breathing. Victor had never really gotten used to how fast the world went nowadays, compared to the way it had been when they were young. It didn't always occur to him to pay all that much attention. Trying to salvage some dignity, Victor replied,

"I didn't want to bother them. I like to walk, and it wasn't far. Barely fifteen minutes. Besides, I hate public transportation."

"Obviously the feeling was mutual."

"That wasn't funny."

"I apologize...But really, Victor, didn't you at least look both ways before you started crossing the street?"

"Of course I did. Victoria, it was not my fault. I'm telling you, the bus came out of nowhere. I saw headlights coming at me, and I sort of froze, and why are you shaking your head at me again?"

"I just can't believe it. I'm sorry darling, but it was a rather bad idea to try to walk across that intersection in the rain."

"As though you never did anything silly!" Victor knew he sounded like a petulant three-year-old, but he couldn't help it. Honestly--they were discussing his death for heaven's sake, and all Victoria could think about was how it was his fault. How insensitive! If the positions had been reversed, Victor would have been falling all over himself with sympathy for a run-over Victoria, he was sure. The least she could do was sound a little sorry that a bus had run him down. Honestly.

"Victor, dear, I think walking into traffic goes quite beyond silly!" Victoria had a bit of an edge to her voice.

She also had a point, but Victor wasn't going to acknowledge it. He was rather hurt--so he'd made a somewhat...er...well, fatal mistake. So what? Victoria certainly was never immune from error. So Victor reached back into his memory and said, "What about the time you sewed your embroidery to your skirt, and completely ruined your dress?" It was the best he could come up with on short notice. Victoria gazed at him, bewildered.

"Victor, why are you bringing that up? It has nothing to do with--"

"And then there was the time you put varnish instead of shoe polish on my best shoes."

"The containers looked the same! And if you'd just polished your own shoes, it never would have happened! Anyway, what about the time you hit yourself in the face with your racket playing lawn tennis and broke your nose?"

"You once set your hair on fire standing too close to the gas jet. I told you that huge bouffant or whatever it was was a mistake, but you didn't listen."

"It was called a pompadour, and they were very fashionable! And if I remember correctly, that was the same evening you somehow managed to run into the same closed door twice."

"It was dark! How about the time you broke two of your fingers trying to use a laundry press?"

"Victor, that contraption was more difficult to use than you think. Besides, I wasn't the one who concussed myself as I fell screaming down the stairs because I thought I saw a rat in my bedroom."

"I did see a rat in my bedroom, and it was enormous! I only panicked because it hissed at me--it could have been carrying the plague or something!"

"Oh, honestly, Victor--the plague?"

"You never know, do you? And I also seem to recall the time you tried to bake potatoes, and they wound up exploding." As soon as he said it, Victor had to clench his teeth together to keep from smiling. Just thinking about it made Victor want to laugh.

Victoria's baked potato fiasco was one of Victor's favorite memories. Victoria was never the best of cooks, and the potato incident had occurred rather early on in their marriage, during the time that their two oldest daughters had been little more than babies. She'd wanted to give Mrs. Reed, their housekeeper, some help in return for the help that she'd given Victoria with the children. Victor had said that she could do what she wanted, and kept his mouth shut about her lack of culinary knowledge. Victor had found the look of horrified surprise on poor Victoria's face as she'd surveyed the wreckage of what was supposed to have been food to be absolutely priceless. Victoria had failed to see the humor of the situation until a few days afterward. Her pride had needed some time to recover, Victor supposed. In any case, he'd noticed considerable ebb in her desire to cook after that.

"How was I supposed to know that you have to poke holes in potatoes before you put them in the oven? I'd never cooked before," Victoria returned. She was starting to smile herself now, although she was making a valiant effort to look stern.

Victor coughed to cover his laugh before he replied, "Yes, but dear...One would think you'd have learned by the fourth time you had baked potatoes explode."

Victoria paused. "Did I really manage to blow up potatoes four times?" she asked wonderingly. There was a bit of amusement showing through as well, though. Victor smiled and answered affectionately,

"Yes, you did. In fact, I think that was how you christened the first electric stove we bought. Remember?"

The two of them leaned back toward one another, laughing quietly. "I've missed bickering pointlessly with you, Victoria," Victor said softly, squeezing her fingers. She returned the squeeze, and said,

"I've missed it, too. And I am very sorry that you were hit by a bus. I do wish you could have died more peacefully. It didn't hurt, did it?" Victoria paused and took another look at Victor's mangled head. "I suppose that's a silly question, isn't it?"

On impulse Victor reached up and gently touched the caved-in side of his face. "No, not silly...Actually, it only hurt for a minute. I think I was hit pretty hard. I mean, I had just time to register 'A bus hit me, I'm flying through the air, oh look, the pavement' before...before...Well, I guess I died after that. The next thing I knew, I was here."

There was a silence. Victor kept replaying what he remembered of his death through his mind. He couldn't help wondering--if he hadn't been careless, and had avoided the bus...how much longer would he have lived? Would he have gotten ill? Or perhaps just slipped away, as Victoria had? The more he considered, the more he realized that it really didn't bear thinking about. He was dead. He was with Victoria again. He was happier than he had been since her death. Come to think of it, the accident might not have happened had Victoria been there, acting like a sweet old mother hen...Wait. Mother. A new thought occurred to Victor.

"Victoria," he said suddenly, as though he'd just had a revelation, "I'm dead." Hold on, that didn't come out right...

"Well, yes," Victoria replied, looking at him quizzically. "And I said I was sorry." Victor waved a hand.

"No, no, that's not what I meant." How to phrase it? Victor scratched the back of his neck before he said slowly, "What I mean is...where is everyone? My parents, your parents? I saw Fred earlier, but so far no one else I know. In fact," Victor looked around the room. "It all seems different than the last time I was here. I don't see anything or anyone that's familiar." And it's a little worrying, Victor added to himself. Though he couldn't quite describe why.

"Well, it has been almost seventy years since you were here last, darling," Victoria replied, speaking as reflectively as he was. She looked at him carefully. "I think that..." she trailed off.

"Yes?" Victor prompted. Victoria seemed to be considering her answer. Finally she stood up. Surprised, Victor just looked up at her, wondering.

"Would you like to take a walk, Victor? Someplace quiet. We can talk."

"Er...haven't we just been talking?"

"I mean more privately."

"Oh. I mean yes. Yes, all right." Victor stood up as well, and out of long habit offered Victoria his arm. She took it, and the two of them walked out of the pub and into the square, saying goodbye to Fred on the way. Victor wasn't sure if Fred had registered that they'd spoken to him--he looked rather plastered.

Victoria was quiet as they walked, so Victor kept his silence as well. What could she want to talk about? He allowed Victoria to lead the way as they strolled arm in arm, until Victor found himself in a spot that he remembered rather well.

"Oh..." Victor whispered, taking in the view. Victoria looked up at him, a quiet kind of smile on her face.

"You know this spot, then?" she asked, holding his arm a bit tighter. Victor nodded. It was rather pretty here, just as it had been all those years ago. It nearly took his breath away...well, it would if he had any.