Donde esta Susannah?
I took Spanish senior year. I know enough.
Where is Susannah?
Okay. I mediate the dead. Mediate. A word usually associated with marriage counseling or lawyers. Or both. So you'd think that being a Mediator I would have some sort of superhuman grip on emotion. That it would just, you know, come with the job description.
But no. Not even close. It's clear that whoever is so desperate to get the dead to their eternal rest has very little regard for their poor emotionally fraught employees.
I'm glad I'm sitting down because suddenly muscles that have never presented the slightest problem are failing entirely.
"Suze? Suze? Suze!" Adam is leaning over the table, shaking me slightly.
"This is Jesse's handwriting," I mumble, and you have to give Adam credit for even hearing me. His face relaxes slightly when he sees I haven't slipped into a coma and he sighs.
"Yeah, we figured as much." He says, sitting back, watching me carefully.
"Jesse is dead." I say. He nods.
"Yah Cee Cee told me." he says. I look towards him. I'd forgotten he didn't know. Woops.
"Look, Suze, I know this is a shock. But I need you to promise me you won't go home, okay? It's important," he has been trying to catch my eye and at that I look at him, alarmed.
"Why the hell not?" I demand. He moans.
"Because," he says, "Father Dom isn't entirely sure that Jesse is...well. Himself. What with the Spanish and the not actually talking to anyone." I stare at him.
"So you want me to...what? What do you expect me to do exactly? Sit here on the other side of the country and twiddle my thumbs until you figure out what's going on or Jesse just goes away?" I am getting out of the booth, grabbing my bag, "Not a chance Adam." I step towards him, hug him hard.
"Thanks," I say, "But I'm going." he calls after me but I'm already on the street, running back to my apartment.
Rosa's Pizza, where I've been eating with Adam, is on 27th and 7th. 27th and 7th is not a pretty street. I've never seen anything more beautiful.