Chapter 3

"George, George," Reggie called for the fourth time, poking me as I still refused to move my ass from the couch, lying on my stomach with my head buried tightly on the soft cushion. "Are you okay? You look like hell."

"Shut up," I whined against the pillow.

Reggie seated on the matted floor beside my head. "Did something bad happen?"

"Bad is an understatement," I corrected her. Bad is not even the right word to explain it. "I feel horrible."

"Is it about work?" she asked, I shook my head. "The other work?"

Again, I shook my head no. "Personal."

"Oh…That thing," she said, finally figuring it out. I nodded this time then groaned. "That bad?" I whined my answer back. "He didn't like you?"

"The opposite, he likes me. And I also like him a lot."

"If that's the case then why are you shitting like this?"

"Because I'm dead, Reggie, and dead people don't entertain relationships. So I have to push him away and he saw everything through it. Now, he walks out of my life thinking that I'm a jerk while I feel like a jerk."

"Wow. That just sucks."

"Tell me about it." And then it was followed by an odd silence. "Reggie?"

"Yeah?"

I turned my head to the left to face her. "What does it feels like?"

"Feels like what?"

"Having a boyfriend? Being in a relationship?"

Reggie's face immediately expressed sadness. It had only been months since her boyfriend Hudson died after a motorcycle accident where I have to reap his soul myself. His last wish before he stepped into his light was to tell Reggie that he loved her and he's sorry that he can no longer make it up to her. "It feels nice. Even though it was far from perfect and something that no one can call normal, it still feels nice, especially that you know that his heart belongs to you."

"If that's it then why didn't he break up with his bitch girlfriend to be with you? Why did he choose to hide you in the shadow while you let him?"

"Because he's shallow and afraid, he always does what everyone is expecting him to do. And they expect him to be the Mr. Popular dating the Ms. Popular and not someone like me."

"He's a jerk!" No wonder he looks so down and sorry before he crossed his light. There is a lot of mess that he left behind that he wishes to fix, starting from my sister.

"Yeah, he is…But he loved me. And even though the world never saw that, it existed and it's real. And for me, that's more than enough."

Now I feel a lot of worst.

"Why did you ask?"

"I have no idea. Maybe I just wanna know what it would feel like. You know, people are always curious on things that they can never have. And being dead doesn't exempt me that."

"Well, who is he anyway?"

"His name is Mark Faux."

Reggie grinned. "Is he cute?"

"Very cute," I replied. "But that doesn't matter now," I told Reggie as I rose up from the couch. "He's out of my afterlife. Forever."

"Why don't you give it another try?" she asked, following me to the kitchen.

I opened the fridge and pull out the pitcher of orange juice. "I highly doubt it," I said as I went to the counter, take a glass and poured the juice. "I'm a Grim Reaper. My job is to observe at the side while things will go on and make sure that they will go on up to the end."

"Okay," she shrugged. "For how long?"

I set the pitcher down and faced Reggie. "Forever, until I reap enough souls for me to finally crossover to my light."

"And how many souls is that?"

"I don't know. It's secret quota that only the Upper Management knows. I'll just know if I already worked enough when it finally arrives. I think it will just snatch me out of nowhere the same way that the toilet seat had snatched away my life."

"That's not funny, George."

"I'm not laughing," I said, drinking my juice bitterly. After I finished drinking, I sighed in frustration as I settled down my glass on the table. "I'm tired, I need some rest."

"Your place is nice," Reggie commented. "How long you've been living here?"

"Two months," I said, sipping on my coffee while massaging my aching head. I was too exhausted last night but for some annoying reason I found a hard time falling asleep. "I got this place from Cameron after my fellow Reapers get rid of him."

"Who's Cameron?"

"The asshole Head Reaper before me," I told her, refilling my cup for the 3rd time. "He was a huge pain in the ass." And I pity Murray that he has to share his urn with him.

"Well, this place is really classy. About 100 times better than Dad's cheesy apartment."

"What would you expect? He was one rich son of a bitch. And speaking of Dad, how was he anyway?"

Reggie shrugged as she munched her cereals. "I have no idea," she said in a mouthful. "He haven't contact me for months already. The last thing I heard is that he's getting married to a woman I don't know a shit about."

In the middle of our conversation, the doorbell rang. Reggie motioned of getting it but I stopped her in midways. "I'll get it. This might the Reap List for today."

And I was right. There was already an envelope slid under the door when I went there. So okay, let's check the unlucky people that received an appointment with Death.

Well, there are seven scheduled deaths for today and…"What the Fuck!" I exclaimed and immediately darted outside in the futile hope that I'll catch the messenger. "Get back here!" I shouted. "DAMN IT!"

"Hey, what's going on?" Reggie emerged from the door, hurrying to my side.

"SCREW THIS!" I yelled in the air.

"George, what's wrong?" My little sister was starting to get worried. She took the list from my hold, curious to know what had caused my agitation as she read it. "Names, ETD…" and she goes on. "C. Turner, J. Patch, L. Montana, M. Faux…M. Faux? Hey George, is this…"

I didn't let her finish and yanked the list from her hold and walked pass her.

"That can't be your friend Mark, right?" Reggie said behind me.

How I wish that she was right. But I know better. It's him, no doubt about it. I saw the location of death. Mark is going to die tonight and around 7PM in a restaurant. The same restaurant where he'd invited me for dinner. "No, it's him. He's going to die tonight and I have to reap him," I told her painfully before I left my house without a word.

I never recovered and was still in a pretty bad shape when I arrive in the Waffle House, easily irritated and grumpy that it won't take a genius to notice that something is definitely wrong with me.

"I don't want to say what the fuck," Roxy said to me. "But what the fuck is wrong with you?"

I stared back at Roxy like a zombie, which is kind of half right since I'm an undead already. "I don't know," I simply said and hand over to her the post-its note for her reap.

Roxy answered with a glare and then Daisy said, "Georgia, if you have a problem you can tell us. We might be able to help."

Yeah right, they can help. That's too unlikely. Well, I mean how the hell they're going to do that if my unsolved problem is the same as the problem that they can't also solve themselves. This fucked up Reaper life. "No, thanks. I'm good." I handed the remaining post-its notes for Daisy and Mason and then left without saying anything again.

The bad feeling never faded nor lessened even until I arrive at the Happy Time. Delores had kept me company from time to time using her motherly like perception to sense that something awful is circling around me. She'd made an effort to cheer me up a little which unfortunately in the end didn't help much at all.

My works are dumped in the corner, I'm unmoved from my seat as I stare on my phone deciding whether to call Mark or not. Of course I have to do it, I cannot disrupt the natural order which will be bad in general or let him be which will be bad for him. I know that it is necessary and I'd told myself within 5 years already that what are supposed to be must be fulfilled, since at the end of the day, nothing will change and whatever I will try to do are not just futile against fate but also disastrous.

So surrendering everything to the screwed up fate, I dialed Mark's number. "Hello," where he answered after the fifth ring.

"Hey Mark," I replied slowly. "It's me, Millie."

"Hey Millie. What is it?"

"Uhmmm…about the dinner, you told me to call you if ever I changed my mind, right?"

"Uh yeah, sort of."

"Well, is the invitation still up?"

"Of course," he said merrily. "So…are we in tonight?"

I looked at the Reap list at my table, tracing my finger on the columns under his name. M. Faux…loves to wear black, can't drive, and never had a girlfriend. Some brief descriptions about the people that are supposed to die. No one knew about these facts aside from the Head Reapers of each group. From the time of Rube up to mine, these information about the reaps are kept and was never told to the Grim Reapers or even get included on the post-its for the reasons that, first, it is somehow found to be useless, and second, it lead to sympathy, something which is supposed to be excluded on a Reaper's dictionary.

That's why it is hard being a Head Reaper and now I understand Rube on why he tried so much to become unemotional in most occasions. He wouldn't have last long being a Head Reaper if he'd let his emotions dictate him on making his decisions. And now, I must also do the same thing.

I'm sorry Mark, I like you but it's nothing personal. "Uhmmm…sure." I looked at the post-its that I wrote for myself. "What time?"

Seven. I thought. "Would 7 be fine?" he said.

"Seven is cool."

"Okay, I'll see you then."

I ended the call feeling heavy in my chest. He's supposed to be of no difference from the other people that I found a hard time reaping before. I was able to get through with them in due time. But with him, it's kind of feels a lot harder and a lot more uncomfortable and I don't know the reason why. Damnit! I wish Rube was still here. He will surely tell me what to do and how to deal with this. Not like this shit where I'm supposed to deal with everyone and figure out everything by myself.

Afterlife really sucks.

END OF CHAPTER 3