Chapter 25

Unidentified Female

The first time she saw Alex in her dreams, she doesn't question it. Jennifer merely enjoyed his company for the entire joyous night. In the morning when she woke, she dismissed it as a post traumatic hallucination, like mistaking the police officer guarding the front door for him. She had stared so often at his picture from the newspaper clipping, it was no wonder she had started to find him in a place that didn't exist.

They had had a palatable connection at first sight across the service elevator floor, a shy, appreciative look and warm smile. She remembered her heart skipping a beat. Jennifer thought her time stuck in an elevator with Clay Martin had been memorable, but the night spent talking with Alex was another level entirely, their own secret world.

A soft touch against her as he grabbed another cigar, leaning closer towards her before the gun was uncovered, it was all so perfect. Jennifer cursed the moment the real estate mogul brought out the deadly weapon. If Clay had never even shown them the Luger, they would have talked and smoked all night, bidding each other a warm farewell as the sun rose above the buildings and doves cooed in alleyways. Maybe she and Alex would have exchanged phone numbers, making plans to see each other again.

She only saw him in one place now.

The dreams continued on. One time she dreamt that it was Alex and she that were stuck in an elevator together instead of his dark haired roommate. They spoke of wanderlust and unfulfilled promises. Sometimes they're sitting on the same back patio re-enacting that magical night where she had first heard his life story. No matter where she was, she always felt special in his presence.

Jennifer knew she'd gone insane when she begged off early to rest, abandoning Cookie on a girls' night out. The redhead looked forward more to getting to bed than trolling the bars for guys; it was the only way she could see him.

That night he held her in his arms whispering in her ear, "Some roads are shorter than others, but I want the people I left behind to know what's in my heart."

Those were the words that Monica said to her as she cradled a dying man. Jennifer thought Alex meant his mother and made it her mission to visit her often. The older woman had no other surviving relatives.

"Alex would have liked you," his mother told Jennifer, once, at suppertime.

The redhead frowned at the statement. She remembered Alex's girlfriend, well, ex-girlfriend after his impromptu eight month trip - a sophisticated beauty, dark of hair with an eye for the camera. She was nothing like her. Jennifer was an awkward, hot-tempered nobody with little ambition. She had flitted between occupations before attempting journalism, and she probably did so only because of Cookie. Perhaps it was a mother's wishful thinking, of a future her son could never have.

Jennifer spied his trophy for first place at a spelling bee on a shelf filled with his other knick-knacks.

His mother beamed, "Alex was so proud the day he won that."

The younger woman nodded remarking offhand, "Yes, the word was 'serviceable,' and the only way he remembered was from the book he read it from."

Alex's mother gave her a strange glance, "Yes, that's right. How did you know?"

"Oh, Alex told me," Jennifer stammered out an excuse. He had told her but never in real life.

She wrote an article on him after asking his mother (and his) for permission. The budding reporter's depiction of their sudden meeting, goodbyes never made, and his final moments in her arms landed her a job at the magazine. His mother cried as she read it.

"It's as if he told you his version of events in person!" she exclaimed.

He had, Jennifer thought. She had even overslept the next morning because they had talked so long in the dream-state.

It was not always the past they spoke about. After a night of panicked searching, and several missing hours of precious sleep, he revealed where the employees' checks were after Cookie had foolishly misplaced them.

Jennifer hated that she used him for such a mundane task, but he merely smiled at her, "It gives me something to do while I wait."

"Wait for what?"

He never said, but he always mentioned waiting for something. She didn't question him or ask about the afterlife. She was just happy to still be able to see him. If not, she would've probably forgotten what he looked like, only an old newspaper article for her to know it wasn't a dream. She never wanted to forget him.

Years passed, she worked her way up the ladder. Now she's the magazine's head editor sending reporters scurrying for their next article. There were wisps of grey in her red hair now, but she's always young when she dreamed of Alex.

His mother passed away quietly with Jennifer at her side.

"I'll finally get to see Alex," his mother sighed as she looked at the beautiful yellow roses the younger woman brought at her bedside.

Jennifer struggled not to show any guilt on her face. She'd seen her son nearly every night since the accident.

That night Alex came to her a little teary-eyed but happy.

"Mother said thank you for everything." He wrapped her up in a loving embrace.

Jennifer sighed with relief as she rested her head against his shoulder. The woman and her son had been reunited, but most importantly he was still coming to see her. Every night she feared he might stop visiting her.

His mother's will had Jennifer inheriting all of the woman's possessions – including Alex's. She found it strange to live in their house, but she took most of the keepsakes and sold the quaint home. She spent that night going over the treasures with the man as they laughed over his childhood photos.

More time passed and she was retired now. She still wrote articles but this time it was for online news websites. Jennifer could work from home without having to drive far, which was good news on her aching joints. She never married, never met anyone who was like the man of her dreams. Tonight she slept earlier than usual, a persistent headache having plagued her for a week. Cookie promised to take her to see a doctor tomorrow, but really Jennifer thought her friend was excited to tell her about her newest grandchild. Her lifelong companion had latched onto a decent guy years ago and never let go. Her large brood was a testament to that.

A soft glowing light filled the room, "Alex," she whispered. Jennifer didn't realize she had fallen asleep. As always, he appeared just as when she had met him, young and with a shy smile.

To her surprise, Monica placed a comforting hand on her shoulder, the angel too never having aged a day.

"Your headaches were an aneurysm," the woman's Irish accent broke the news gently. "Cookie will find you in bed tomorrow, but you won't be here. You're finally coming home. Alex volunteered to show you the way."

Jennifer met his ecstatic look and leapt into his arms letting the years fall off her like so many sorrows. He felt more real now with his arms embracing her than in the dreams or even if they had touched when he was alive. The world after death was like that.

He kissed her sweetly wiping her tears with gentle hands. "You were wrong, you know. You told Monica that I would have left the party if you never gave me the Sarsaparilla. I made the choice to stay the moment I walked through the doors and saw you standing at the elevator."

Jennifer understood now.

"You were waiting for me weren't you? I loved you from the first moment I saw you too. You can stop waiting, Alex. I'm here, and we'll never be apart again."

This is my favorite story I've written so far. This episode had the bad cop over acting way too much. After she remembers the truth he just dismisses her like he knew that was the story all along. How Alex died was very idiotic. Who keeps a loaded antique gun? "I'll finally get to see Alex" is similar to Dimaggio's "I'll finally get to see Marilyn [Monroe]" last words. So sad to not see Andrew as the Angel of Death but it was a nice statement Tess made that a caseworker should know what the experience is like. I really enjoyed this episode even with it's flowery hopes and dreams discussion. Maybe it's because of the potential for a love story. I could have imagined a lot of possibilities had Alex lived.