I Woke Up Dead at the Mall (19 page)

“Oh, just shut up!” I cried. The crowd let out an “Ooooh” in response. “I don't know what to do!”

“Now!” Lacey sounded frantic.

My heart, or something like it, pounded through my rib cage. I took a step toward Nick, then jerked backward, hard. Lacey had grabbed me by the hair and yanked me into the elevator.

I was still in shock at the pain, violence, and swiftness of her actions as she reached out and did the exact same thing to Nick. We fell back against the wall of the elevator, a mere second before the door closed.

“You two are such idiots,” she said. “You sort of deserve each other.”

Nick loved me. He said so. I tried to remember that during the elevator ride, and after. But it just kept slipping away.

He wasn't speaking to any of us. He bolted off the elevator, headed for parts unknown. His face was locked up, totally expressionless, like a sculpture of Nick but not the real Nick.

This all sounds pretty bad, but I told myself that he'd get over it, and he'd see reason. I also told myself that Lacey was the one who had pulled him in. Not me. So he had no reason to be mad at me. (Of course, I was grateful to Lacey, and I wished I had done what she did. I maybe had to factor that in.)

Our part of the mall was a different universe; it was so clear to me now. This was no place for the living. The air felt different, and so did the light. There was a cool, clean simplicity here and it chilled me. But the warm, pulsating, mad beauty of life among the living was officially my drug of choice. It took me less than one minute to start missing it all. Oh no. No.

I wanted to go back. What if Nick was right and we should
have stayed back there? What if we belonged there, together? I shook that thought out of my heart.

“Sarah!” Alice called out from the entrance to Staples. “You're back!”

Bertha soon appeared by her side.

“Oh my, oh, oh, oh my…,” she said slo-o-ow-ly. “You've returned. You've actually returned. How did you …?” But then she looked at Lacey. Math completed, she did one of her cluck-sighs (still hate them) and said, “Of course. I should have known.”

“I saved my dad!” I announced to her. Her smile was tinged with a bit of sadness.

“Good for you, my dear. Good for you.” She looked around. “And Nick? Where is he?”

(Yeah, I didn't want to go into all that. Not yet.) “He's here,” I said. “Somewhere. In the mall. Here.”

She shook her head. “Incredible,” she murmured. But then she looked at me and pushed the sadness out of her smile. “Welcome back, Sarah. You're welcome here, indeed. And you must be hungry.”

As soon as she said it, I was. In fact, I was ravenous.

“Go. Eat. Let me see about Nick. We'll reconvene anon.”

I wasn't sure when “anon” would be. But it sounded ominous.

We three girls were at the food court, having a huge dinner. I was wondering about the story I would tell myself/tell them about the time with Nick. Lacey cut right to it.

“So.” Lacey elbowed me. “You and Nick. All alone. All night. Two nights. Did you do it?”

“What?” I asked, as in
How can you ask me that?
not
Whatever do you mean?

“You're
so
pathetic,” Lacey said. “Wasted opportunity. That's you! Go find him, girl. What the hell are you waiting for?”

“He seemed terribly upset,” Alice said tentatively.

“Yeah,” Lacey agreed. “But he'll get over it when he realizes that I saved the day. And he has a girlfriend who's kind of hot. In a nerd/skinny-white-girl kind of way.”

“Thank you,” I said, genuinely surprised at her kindness. (Note to me: never underestimate Lacey.)

“Hooray for Lacey,” Alice added.

I hadn't checked my bracelet since we had returned. It was Disney Princess pink.

My dad had a cousin who was profoundly deaf and talked in his sleep. See? No matter our circumstances, we've simply got to tell our stories. Do you know why Earth is never quiet? It's because the whole place is teeming with life, and life itself is so noisy. The heavy silence in our section of the mall came from that absence of life, and it took (almost) all of my attention. Almost. The thing is: I needed to talk. To Nick.

There he was. Nick. Fast asleep in a bed in the middle of a cluster of beds, in Sleepy's. I hurried to him. I wanted to kiss him, hold him, touch him, and breathe him in. I climbed into
the bed and found my rightful place, right by his heart. He stirred.

“Sarah,” he whispered. “I'm sorry about before. And I'm sorry about—”

“Me first,” I interrupted him. “I'm sorry you didn't get to choose for yourself. And I'm sorry that I'm
not
sorry that we're here together.”

He laughed a little bit. “Come here,” he said. But I was already here. Very here.

He leaned over me and kissed me. Maybe it was because of the victory of the day, I wasn't sure, but this kiss held more passion, more subatomic energy, more life than any kiss before it in the history of kisses.

And just like that everything changed. The energy between us shifted. We both knew that this was the end of us talking and the beginning of us taking off our clothes. We blinked at each other and that said it all. Me first. I didn't hesitate, but I did move kind of slowly, deliberately. In that small moment when I was separate from him, shirt traveling up and over my head, I thought one single word: yes.

Yes. It was time. Nick. Sarah. Now.

And as the shirt fell to the floor, I became aware of every nerve ending in my skin (and was deeply glad to be wearing the cute bra with the lace). My heartbeat accelerated but stayed true. Nick. Right. Nick. Right.

His hands traced a line across my back. And it felt like I was a black-and-white photo magically rippling into color wherever he touched me.

“Sarah?” he said softly. “Are you sure?”

Okay, maybe we weren't on the exact same page here. I faded to black, white, and gray.

“Aren't you?” I asked, without looking back at him.

He kissed my back, and then my neck and my shoulder. I was transforming into color once more. His hands wrapped around my waist and almost made me laugh. Was I joyful or ticklish? Not sure. I turned to face him. He smiled and breathed me in.

I tugged at his shirt a bit. “You,” I said. And his shirt fell over mine.

I touched his shoulders, which were even more amazing up close. When our bodies pressed together, I felt like I owned him, I possessed him. He was mine. In living color.

I got the feeling that I was the one initiating this, continuing this, building it up to greater heights. For a girl who'd had zero boyfriends when she was alive, it was a little strange. Maybe even disappointing.

“We should use protection,” Nick whispered after a while. He slowed us down.

“Can the dead get an STD? Or pregnant?” I asked, not really expecting an answer.

But he sat back. He stopped. And my heart fell through the floor. Oh no. Oh no. He didn't want me. That's all I could feel, and it felt utterly wrong and painful and totally humiliating.

“What's wrong?” I asked, dreading the answer, hiding the pain (I hoped).

“Before we do anything more, I think you should know something.” He paused, and my mind raced to figure out that something before he could say it. And then he said it.

“I'm leaving,” he said. “I'm leaving the mall.”

(My brain turned into a pile of lint, because this made no sense.)

He continued. “I died saving Fiona. Remember?”

“Just for future reference,” I interrupted, “it's not cool to talk about some girl when it looks like you're about to have sex with a completely different girl. I'm just sayin'.” I curled my body up tight, wishing I didn't feel so totally exposed.

He smiled. “Point taken. But here's the thing. Saving her means that I died a hero. That's why Bertha offered to let me go to that spa place. It's totally different there. You can move on a whole lot faster, or…”

He was leaving. He was leaving the mall. He was leaving me. Something in my brain was exploding. I was losing the ability to speak or understand words of any kind.

“I'll find out tomorrow. Bertha is talking with the Boy tonight,” he concluded.

Where to begin? Well. I began by putting my shirt back on. Fast. I stuffed my bra into my pocket. Just like that, passion transformed into blind anger. And I was ready to start swinging.

“First of all, you didn't die a hero. You guys were trying to run away. You told me yourself: you didn't take a bullet for her. You just got in the way of one.” My voice was like metal.

“Let's not get technical. I was getting her away from—”

Nope. I wasn't letting him finish.

“Second, we're almost ready to move on, and we could move on
together
. You're going to run away now?
Now?
”

He shook his head. Maybe he wanted to speak, but I wasn't done yet.

“Third, yeah, maybe you get to return a little sooner, but
that won't help your mom. You'll come back as a new life. A new baby! And you won't even know her.”

“See, that's the thing. It's different for them,” he began, but I wasn't listening. I was half-aware that my face was burning, and I was shaking just a little.

Nick waited a decent interval.

“Over there it's different. You can move on. Or become an angel. You can look out for people. And after that whole haunting experience, I know for sure that's what I want to do.”

If I spoke now, I'd cry, so I just breathed. Damn those trees and rainstorms. He held me close, which I loved and hated, which stressed me out beyond measure.

“Let's get this straight. You're leaving me. For your mother.”

“This isn't about her, or any one person. This is my mission, my fate, Sarah.” His voice was cotton-soft, but it hurt like hell. “I don't need to move on.”

“Don't go.”

“I'm sorry.”

“Don't go.”

We were all at breakfast, but I wasn't hungry. I opted to be really pissed off at Nick, instead of sad or scared that I might be losing him now and for the rest of time. My jaw was clenched so hard it hurt.

“Could you pass the salt?” Nick asked.

“I don't know,” I replied. “Will it disappear forever and never come back, in the afterlife or the next life?” I asked before I handed it over. “Does it have serious mother issues?”

“Thank you,” he said.

“Is this how you two flirt?” Lacey asked. “Because if it is, you kind of suck at it.”

I gave Nick a look that said:
Well. Tell them
. But he didn't figure it out, so I said, “Well. Tell them.” Out loud.

“No. Not till I hear from Bertha. I should wait,” he said.

“Great idea. Wait until everyone feels really exposed and vulnerable.
Then
tell them.” The words came out a lot harsher than I had intended.

“Wait for what?” Alice asked. “What's going on?”

Yes, I was being kind of bratty. Sorry. But no one had ever broken my heart before. I didn't know how to behave. And then it got worse.

We trudged our way to Bertha at Staples. She was waiting by the entrance, which wasn't her usual thing. My heart was in a permanent state of broken panic. This was it.

Bertha took Nick aside for a private chat. They spoke quietly, but I heard bits and horrible pieces.

Bertha:	somethingsomething honor system. That's why I offered you the choice to somethingsomething.
Nick:	It's only right that I somethingsomething.
Bertha:	It's rather late for such a somethingsomething.
Nick:	Before I go, tell me who brings all the somethingsomething.
Bertha:	Ah, those are somethingsomething. They do it because they somethingsomething. And now…

She reached out her hand and he removed his bracelet. She took it from him. Oh no.

Done. I could hear blood rushing through my ears. It overpowered me. Every possible emotion was flowing through it.

Bertha and Nick remained together, separate from the rest of us. Bertha began a little speech. I didn't hear most of
it. I didn't want to. “Somethingsomething heroes belong in another somethingsomething.” And “Angels are somethingsomething.”

It was real. They all knew now. Nick was leaving us, and it would be just as sudden and as permanent as death itself. Maybe even more permanent. We stood in mournful silence in the absolute emptiness of the mall.

Alice stepped forward. Her voice sounded younger than ever.

“You'll look out for us all, won't you, Nick?” And then her voice broke. “We need angels. The world is a dangerous place.” And with that she threw her arms around his neck and hugged him. She cried on his shoulder.

After a bit he gently removed her arms. She let them fall as she stepped back. He looked at Lacey, whose gaze was locked to the floor. He said, “Hey, Lacey. You're already in charge of the afterlife. Next time around I think you'll run the world.”

When she looked up at him, her face was streaming with tears. She shook her head, unable to speak. So Nick stepped over to her and held her tight. She cried, rather loudly, then took a sudden step back.

“This hurts,” she said. “This kind of goodbye. It isn't right. Are we actually supposed to be happy for you?”

Nick had no answer for that.

Lacey looked in my direction. “Oh, Sarah. Holy shit, girl.” But I didn't say a word. I didn't have any. I was past language at that point anyway. I looked at Nick, and he looked at me. Nobody else existed.

When he scooped me into his arms, I couldn't move a muscle. My arms dangled at my sides. Useless. I tried to turn
away from the trees and the rainstorms, but they were inescapable. Wherever he wasn't touching me, I felt the hard-edged fluorescence of the mall.

Deep in my heart (or my brain or my stomach) I knew that this was my one, final, only opportunity to speak to Nick and say my goodbye to him. To give him my love in language. But my central nervous system (if I still had one) had shut down. No words came. No movement either. I was missing my chance and I knew it.

“Sarah,” Nick whispered to me. “I love you. That will never change.”

My arms moved upward and rested on those shoulders that had captured my attention when I first saw him.

“I'll find you,” he assured me. “I'll look out for you.”

My arms tightened around him and his around me. He studied my face and kissed me, then kissed me again. “Please,” he urged me. “Please tell me you forgive me.”

“Nick.” Bertha tugged at his arm. “We must go.”

Nick held me tighter. “Please tell me you love me.” But I had no words, no sound. Something inside me was gone and I couldn't find it. Come on. Open your mouth. Open your heart. Say it. Speak. Connect. Now. I was missing my chance and I knew it.

He began to let go. “Please. Let me take that with me. Sarah!”

When he stepped away from me I crumbled to the ground and dissolved into a fog of grief. And when I looked up, he was gone.

I had missed my chance, and I knew it.

My bracelet was the color of blood. I was enjoying the irony in that.

Could everyone see that I was walking around with a gaping hole in my heart? Did it run straight through my body, like a cannonball had shot through me? Did they know that I now, finally, felt like I had actually stopped living?

I refused to join Lacey and Alice as they scurried off to participate in Bertha's brand of group therapy. No thank you. Was it okay to blame Bertha for taking Nick away? For falling for his “I died a hero” bit? Please. If you wanted to get technical about it, when I died, I saved my dad. And then I went back and really, really saved him. So there.

I eavesdropped on Bertha's group therapy sessions but stayed on the outside, invisible like a (say it with me) ghost.

“We very nearly had a new arrival!” she crowed. “A young man in a coma was near dead, following a gang-related shooting. But he pulled through. Another modern medical miracle.” She sounded really bummed that the kid survived.

Besides feeling allergic to Bertha, I really didn't need to hear her do a whole song-and-dance number entitled “If You Fall in Love at the Mall, You'll Ruin Your Life and I Told You So.”

I lingered outside, peeking around the corner whenever I could. Lacey and Alice sat, obedient and attentive, on folding chairs. With any luck that coma boy would give up the ghost and help fill up the room. Meanwhile, Bertha happily instructed poor Lacey and Alice.

“Today I want you to write the story of your life, if you hadn't died when you did.”

Writing assignments in the afterlife. Talk about irresistible!

The next day I listened as Bertha joyfully preached at poor Lacey and Alice.

“Today I want you to immerse yourself in your anger about your murder until you can't stand the taste of it any longer. Alice, we'll start with you. If you could speak to your murderer, what would you say?”

Suddenly Alice let loose a tirade that just couldn't be coming from such a small girl. She screeched,
“I hate you! I hate you! I hate you!”
She said it again and again until her voice went raw. I recoiled from the doorway, blown back by the sound and the fury.

“Yes. Well. Very good!” Bertha sounded a bit shocked at the volume little Alice had reached. “Now. Lacey, your turn.”

But Lacey spoke quietly. “I don't think Alice is done yet. Are you? Alice?”

She was silent for a long time. Then: “I'm ever so done. I'm so tired of hating him and hating Ma and hating Da. I'm so tired of it. It's a satchel full of stones and I want to put it down. I need to put it down. I choose to put it down.”

I peeked around the corner. Alice was crying softly, as Lacey and Bertha sat on the floor with her. Finally Bertha pulled herself up and straightened her clothes.

“Well then, Alice. I think that you should…” But something about Alice's expression must have stopped her.

When Alice finally said something, it felt like she was
speaking to herself. “It's done. No more. I'm laying it all to rest.”

She breathed. She smiled. Her eyes were clear. Her bracelet was pale pink.

I slithered away.