Chapter Six – Damage Control
"Um. I'm sorry that you had to find out about my family that way," began George, her heart (or what passed for it) beating rapidly.
"Ever since my mother and I had that little falling-out, we're not on speaking terms."
"What happened?"
"When I decided to drop out of school, she was really angry, and she all but disowned me."
Which isn't far from the truth actually, except for the part about her sending me to Happy Time and my eventual fiery death, but let's not discuss that.
"The feeling was mutual; and things only got worse after my parent's divorce recently, so I changed my name from Georgia Lass to Mildred Hagen to get away from it all."
"So um..." trailed off George, as she nervously twisted the strap of her purse.
Oh god, oh god, let him buy it.
"So why'd you tell me your name was Georgia, not Mildred?"
"To tell you the truth, I'm not ready to totally give up on my family, if you can understand that."
To her surprise, Trip nodded.
"There have been times that I've thought about changing my name. Oh sure, I've got a catchy nickname with 'Trip', but there are times when being Thomas Hesburgh the third annoys me. People assume that I got where I was because I went to all the right places and got my ticket punched in the right order, not because of my abilities."
"I can imagine," replied George. Damn it, stop making so much sense so I can get rid of you.
"Look, I'm sorry for getting you in trouble..."
"Wait, how do you know about that?" George asked.
"Before Mason gave me this," Trip said, shaking the ice pack on the side of his head for emphasis. "He told me all about how you got arrested that night because of me – I should have left you a note about my trip to New York, but I figured on being able to call you and letting you know..."
"It's alright, Trip." God, I can't believe I'm saying that.
"Um. Can we get together for dinner sometime this week? I know we didn't get off on the right foot from the start, and I can't do anything about that, but I can try and make amends for it..."
Please tell me this isn't happening to me. Why the fuck am I even seriously entertaining his offer?
"Um. How does Wednesday night sound?" George said with a small flourish.
"Sounds good to me. Um. I guess I better be going now."
"Okay."
As Trip was leaving, George unconsciously brushed her hand against his shoulder and gave a little smile, causing him to smile in return.
Why the hell am I even doing this? Why am I smiling right now? Was Ray right after all?
Thirty minutes later, she sank into the cushions at their booth in the Waffle Haus, looking askance at Mason, who was rubbing his hand.
"Mason, I appreciate you looking out for me, but I'm not your little sister that you have to protect."
"Bloody Hell, George, what did you expect me to do when he showed up? Smile and say 'Oh thank you so much for fucking up George's life?' I still feel like I'm responsible for what happened to you that night..."
"Oh my." interrupted Daisy, who had arrived a little earlier and had overheard the whole thing. "I didn't think you knew the meaning of the word 'conscience', along with other things such as personal hygiene and sobriety."
"Daisy, I'm not in the mood for your witty banter right now," replied George.
At that moment, Roxy made her appearance. Sitting down next to Mason, she looked over to where Mason was rubbing his right hand and sighed.
"Mason, how many times do I have to tell you? It's all in your head. You can't break your hand, no matter how hard you try." she snapped.
"It bloody well feels like it's broken," he moaned.
From the back of the diner, Rube noted with satisfaction that his little family was already there. He'd been through quite a few reaping groups, and this was the one he felt the most at home with; and that included even Mason. Walking up to the booth, he put his day planner onto the table, interrupting what looked like a serious conversation between George and Mason.
"I hate to interrupt you two, but how was everyone's day? Your reaps go as planned?"
Daisy was the first to speak up. "Today was absolutely horrible. I think I ruined my shoes in that field, trying to herd all those souls, and then the police detained me for over an hour for questioning over what I saw."
"Could be worse. You could've spent an hour with tweezers looking for a piece to pull the soul from." replied Rube, causing Daisy to shudder involuntarily at the thought of ruining her manicure looking for a finger or whatnot in a muddy field.
"Mine went fine. No problems," Roxy announced as she took a sip from her drink.
"And what about you two?" asked Rube as George and Mason studied the pattern on the Formica counter top instead of replying.
"Well?"
'
"Georgia has boy problems. Again."
"Daisy!" shouted George, exasperation showing on her face.
"That boy, what was his name? Ah yes, Trip. He showed up at George's place to apologize it seems like."
"And?" asked Rube.
"I have a date with him on Wednesday," George said with a sigh.
"That's nice." finished Rube. At least George was starting to adjust to life after death and moving on...
"As Georgia Lass," added Daisy with flair.
If it wasn't for his decades of experience in dealing with situations like this, Rube would have blown his top then and there. Instead, he just said in a curt voice "Peanut. Bathroom. Now."
As they walked into the bathroom, leaving behind the others, the moment the door closed behind them, Rube let it fly.
"Peanut, what the fuck do you think you're doing?"
"So I'm going out with a guy, so what? Can't I have a life?" she replied testily.
"You're going out with him as Georgia Lass. Who is dead, I might add."
"So? I don't see you adopting an alias. Or Daisy, or Mason, or..."
"Peanut. I've been dead for nearly eighty years. Daisy's going on seventy. Mason died forty years ago thousands of miles away. Roxy's been dead for twenty. You on the other hand, have been dead for only about two years and you reap in your hometown."
"If that wasn't enough, you are getting involved with the living, specifically as a dead girl."
"And you fear that somehow, I will be discovered, and people will find out that I'm...dead? When not even my own mother didn't recognize me?" George added bitterly.
"You're using a dead girl's name. Peanut. That gets you into trouble these days, what with identity fraud. It doesn't matter if they think you're just a criminal or a crazy girl who thinks she's Georgia Lass, because they will notice things. Break it off, before things get worse."
"What? Because I'm dead, I can't do anything but work, and reap? Is that what it is?"
"That's the way it is, Peanut. You're lucky, you know that?"
"Lucky? How? I got hit by a toilet seat at eighteen, and now I have to watch as hundreds of people go on to their reward, while I get stuck here with the job of cleaning up afterwards, the pay for which, by the way sucks!"
"In the old days," said Rube with a sigh. "Reapers didn't get assigned to their death groups, to reduce the chances of the living recognizing the dead walking the earth. With so many people no longer believing in religion, the people up top felt that the rules didn't need to be enforced so stringently about twenty five years ago."
"So I should be thankful to the powers that be, for allowing me to watch from the sidelines as my family gets more and more fucked up, and that I can't do a goddamn thing about it?" shouted George.
"Fuck it. I'm done here," she muttered, and left the bathroom, leaving Rube behind.
"Come on, Mason" George said as she motioned for him to follow her as she passed their table.
"What's going on, George?" asked Mason as he fell in behind her.
"You feel like getting drunk tonight?"
"Always."