Remembering Hell (9 page)

“But you broke up because you had
completed your journey together. It was time to go your separate ways. Still, a
nice memory though, am I right?”

“Yes, the best. And over time I
really did enjoy my job,” Joe says, finally relaxing after the emotional storm
of remembering Tara.

“Speaking of enjoying your job,”
Deedy says. “How do you think you’d feel about working outdoors?”

“As opposed to hanging out in a
giant grease trap?” Joe responds. “Sounds pretty sweet.”

“Good. Well then, tomorrow you
start in construction,” Deedy says with authority.

“Wait.” Joe panics just a bit.
“Building things? Important things? I mean, nothing too important, right? No one
will have to live in anything I build.” He is actually getting scared. “Cooking
with no experience is one thing. Buildings are big. They can fall down and land
on people.”

Deedy laughs. “You will be just
fine. Tomorrow, dear boy, we shall see exactly what you can build.” And he
pushes a post-it note across the desk.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

So this whole guardian angel thing
is getting a little sucky. First of all, Joe is doing everything he can to
avoid me. To include leaving early so he can ditch me and walk to work all by
himself. How are you supposed be a guardian angel to a son of a bitch like
that? Second, I have to deal with my own residual amount of jealousy over the
fact that he kept his job longer than a day. Gabby gave me the whole “everyone
has to take their own journey” line of crap, but I can’t help but feel slightly
bruised in the ego department. That leads to other thoughts, like I wonder if
Deedy likes him more than he likes me. And yes, I get that Deedy is the creator
of all and loves each of us, but that is abstract. Once you accept that God
exists and is capable of unconditional love, you can think in abstract terms,
but on a limited level. How many religions in the land of the living not only
deliver the message that God is real, but also feel the need to say they are
the only one that is getting everything right? Why else would a person knowing
that they are going to Heaven feel the need to not only need to believe, but
also hang onto the idea that someone else is going to Hell? Sibling rivalry,
that’s why. And I hate to admit it, but after a few dozen years of actually
being able to hang out with Him? I too sometimes forget, and become very
protective of my own relationship with him.

“Isn’t pride one of the seven
deadly sins?” That smooth baritone fills my ears like chlorinated water in a
swimming pool and sent a chill down my spine. I know that voice. My mystery man
is back.

“Oh fabulous. More fucking
intrigue,” I say, while I think is he another telepath?

“Are you surprised there is more than
one of us?” He decides to give up a little of his mystery. I don’t know whether
to be glad of that or scared.

“A little. Why haven't I met you
before now?” There are many angels in Heaven. Billions of billions of people
and at least millions of millions of angels. Way more than I could ever meet in
a thousand years. That is not the point. The fact of the matter is this one is
pissing me off.

And here’s why. He is way too
handsome for the comfort level of any human female. He is really enjoying the
whole mystery man persona, which gives him an arrogant air, and he knows way
too much about me. Hence I am going to be as snarky as I can possibly muster.
And as much as an archangel will allow, I suppose.

“How come every time we meet, Ms.
Patterson, you are in the street like a stray cat?”

Okay, so that makes me laugh a
little.

“Guardian angel duty,” I answer.
“And I prefer feral cat.”

“Hmmm...if your reputation is to be
believed, I would have thought you’d be further advanced in your duties. Is
there some reason you have not achieved your full potential?” He speaks slowly,
almost like he is already bored with this conversation.

“And if my albeit limited
experience with angels is correct, then you already know I asked for this
assignment,” I said with the sheer exasperation of a person who is already
tired of this conversation.

“Guilty as charged. What I don’t
know is why.” Now, he perks up, with a little curiosity.

“And I don’t know you at all. Not
even your name. So let’s call it even, okay?”

He laughs a deep rough laugh and
extends his hand. “Call me Mr. Lugner.”

I am surprised. He just revealed
two pieces of personal information in less than five minutes. Maybe if I
continue to act like I couldn’t care less who he is, I’ll get even more. “Nice
to know what to call you, Mr. Lugner. Whenever you successfully stalk me on the
streets of Hell.” I take his hand and instead of shaking, he pauses, just kind
of holding mine. The gesture is without malice or a sense of the lascivious. It
just feels…nice.

I enjoy the warmth of his touch for
a moment before I pull back. “However, now I must go play chaperone to a
construction worker.” I turn to walk away from him.

“So soon? What a shame. We were
just getting to know one another, Ms. Patterson. I do look forward to our next
encounter.”

“Yeah, well. You don’t seem to have
a problem finding me. It seems I don’t have a choice as to whether or not there
will be one. So, I will just say until next time,” I say, sounding so much like
the bitch I used to be, back in my breathing days. I almost get a little
nostalgic for my former life.

Lugner turns and walks the exact
same direction as I am heading. I don’t want to look like I’m walking with him.
I also don’t want to look like I am following him. Damn, I thought these stupid
social conundrums died when I did. Now, I walk in the opposite direction so
that I can go around the block and end up coming from the other direction to
Joe’s construction site.

Even though I don’t feel the heat
the same way that the damned feel it, it is much warmer than it normally would
be. It must be residual or something. So while for a Hell resident it feels
like standing about six feet away from a bonfire the size of the State of
Delaware, to me it feels like a normal summer afternoon in Vegas. Hot, but not
Hell hot. Anyway, by the time I get to Joe, I am a sweaty mess.

Joe is walking off the site just as
I approach. I immediately forget the hot mess I have become. Instead, I stand
in the middle of the street, laughing out loud at poor Joe. He looks like a mental
patient trapped in a sauna.

“Damn.” Is all I can manage.

“Fuck you.” Is all he can manage.
Now we are both laughing.

As I walk and he hobbles toward the
agency, I am thinking that I am making small talk, but in reality I am ranting
about Lugner. Who does that guy think he is? Trying to be mysterious and
incredible looking and throwing me off my game. Joe is listening, sort of.

“I’m not helping you at all, am I?”
I say, realizing I’ve spent the last fifteen minutes on a giant Lugner
diatribe.

“Well, the pain developing in my
head is a distraction from the pain in my back. That counts as help,” he says,
laughing. “By the way, Louise, I am sorry about leaving early to miss you
yesterday.”

“So you admit it was to avoid
walking with me?” I say.

“Yes. But not because I don’t like
you, and I actually missed talking to you. I just thought that maybe I needed
some time to myself. Oh, and I know that you are a spy.”

“A spy? Wow. I suddenly feel like a
Bond girl!” I say with a flourish.

“You know what I mean. I know that
you don’t want to hang out with me, it’s your job. I get that you are not
really an elevator repair person.” He smiles at me.

“You really are a tremendous guy
Joe,” I say warmly. “And by the way, I did do something to that elevator that
day. I just haven’t figured out if I was the one who fixed it, or if I was the
one who broke it.”

I leave him at the elevator doors
this time, and give him a pat on the back as he goes inside.

“Not coming up?” he asks.

“No, I need to go see a friend,” I
say. What I can’t tell Joe is that I can’t face the emptiness of that place for
me. So I just smile and say, “Good luck up there.” And walk away.

But you know what? I wasn’t lying
about the friend. I am going to go hang out with Hank. I will tell him about my
new job, and I will tell him why. We will talk about Joe and we will laugh
about Lugner, and I will forget, at least for a brief moment that I am all
alone again in Hell.

When I get to Hank’s apartment, it
begins to remind me of the old days when Linda and I were together day in and
day out. He answers the door and greets me with a giant grin.

“Lou, if you are gonna keep hanging
out here, then the refrigerator is over there.” Hank knows from previous
experience that I have no problem whatsoever in the “helping myself”
department. If anything, he should be scared that I just may decide to make
myself a four course meal while I’m in his kitchen. Of course, he also knows I
don’t cook. So instead I just go through the cupboards scrounging for chips and
dip. I also fix myself and Hank sodas and bring everything out on a tray.

“Wow. Way to make yourself at
home,” he says, reaching for the chips.

“Sorry. I thought that was what you
meant by pointing out the kitchen.”

“It was. That’s why I congratulated
you,” he says, laughing.

We settle back and start to talk
about my new assignment. When I tell Hank that I am back in Hell acting as a
guardian, of course he questions whether or not I have seen Linda. I explain to
him that I probably won’t see her, and that she can’t see me. When he questions
me further I have to tell him that right now I am blinded to a lot of things
too. Particularly Deedy. And how that has been bothering me so much.

He comes over and sits on the side
of my chair, putting his arm around me. “Louise, this is an amazing sacrifice
you are making just for the chance that you may see Linda. You have no idea how
grateful I am.”

Then we start to talk about Lugner.
Of course Hank is laughing as I convey the story of Lugner’s appearances and
his general mystery. However, after about a half hour he drops the big
question.

“So why you?”

“I’ve been asking myself that too.
I’m thinking maybe Deedy sent him?”

“Maybe, or perhaps you’ve become
something to see, Lou. You know, asking for a demotion, agreeing to return to
Hell, and I have heard that you have been having a constant argument with Deedy
about not having wings?” he says with laughter.

“Hey! Like you don’t secretly want
them too. Who wouldn’t want wings? And powers? The powers are the coolest part.
Gabby and Lugner with their mind reading, and Gabby can heal. Who knows what
else Lugner can do?”

“Louise, you know that those wings
and powers come with a whole host of other obligations, right?”

“Well, yes. But think about that
too. I mean, when was the last time you heard about a town getting smote, or
some sighting of a host of angels in the sky? There’s not too much field work
left for an angel. Gabby makes coffee and ensures people get to their
appointments on time. She’s basically a coffee pot and alarm clock with the ability
to rain fire down on a village if commanded to,” I say.

“And which part of that do you
aspire to be?” Hank asks.

“All of it, as long as it comes
with a big set of pretty wings!” We laugh together, and continue for a while
longer. When I leave I go back to my apartment and lie there, looking into the
darkness. I say into it, even though I know that she can’t hear, “Linda, know
that you are loved.” Then I drift off to sleep with a smile for the first time
since taking this assignment.

CHAPTER TWELVE

Linda opens her eyes and slams her
hand down on the alarm clock. She hates that thing with the same intensity she
used to hate the cabbage soup diet that Louise used to make her go on with her
all time. That stupid diet never made her lose two dress sizes as promised. It
just gave her terrible gas and made her breath smell like a moose.

She doesn’t even understand why
they let you sleep down here. By the time she is able to think straight, she
realizes she feels even more tired than she did when she went to bed. Is that
more of Hell’s magic? That sleep actually has the reverse effect on the body
than it should?

She gets out of bed and makes her
way around the room, avoiding the closet. She hates the closet most, and would
rather take a beating than get dressed for her stupid job.

It's just all so pointless. Her job
doesn’t even make sense. She has met two of the three partners, both of whom
are trolls sitting in dark offices all day doing fuck-all. They never see
clients and they never leave to go anywhere like court, or to a bar, or
anywhere else lawyers go to in Linda’s imagination. However, they seem to
produce an extraordinary amount of files. Which they then give to Linda so that
she can run around and haphazardly place them in random drawers. Linda sighs
heavily. Give up trying to understand and just go. She opens the door to the
wretched closet. Today’s torture du jour is a velour running suit the color of
bubble gum. Why do they make clothes in neon pink? Is there anyone ever born
who looks good in neon anything, let alone pink?

Is everything down here going to
cause these futile questions? Will she someday actually be used to her new
life? Linda honesty doesn’t think that will make her feel any better. She
thinks that once you get used to being in Hell is when your soul is really
damned.

She pulls on the tracksuit, puts
her hair up in a messy bun, and heads down to the front desk. Rude Randy, who
brought along a horrible case of adult acne, as well as a bad attitude, is
still down engrossed in the computer. Linda has seen what is available on the
computers down here, so she can only assume that Rude Randy has serious
behavior disorders.

“Concierge,” she says, her voice
dripping in sarcasm.” “Any messages for me?”

He doesn’t even look up. He just reaches
under the counter as though he’s about to pull out a package or an envelope. He
then pulls out his empty hand and presents Linda with a single finger.

Ha! Linda laughs as she walks out.
Torturing rude Randy is the only fun she has down here. But with that done for
the day, there is nothing left to do but go to her ridiculous job.

She stops for coffee, although,
again she really doesn’t understand why. The coffee shop on her way to work
serves coffee that could be drunk with a fork. It tastes like old mud that some
tribe of aboriginal people walked barefoot through on a regular basis. And this
is not a tribe that subscribes to daily bathing. In short, the coffee sucks
ass. But it’s like a compulsion. Linda cannot seem to walk to work without
stopping and getting a huge steaming cup of it.

She arrives at the office exactly
twenty minutes late, which makes her the first one to arrive. She has to wait
outside due to the fact that Suzy, the office manager who hired her, refuses to
give her a key. Suzy actually refuses Linda everything. Ever since they had
that little spat in front of Mr. Davis, she has made it her number one priority
to make Linda’s life even more miserable.

She even refused to tell Linda her
name. And although Linda finally just labeled her with the moniker Miss Meany,
and she was actually starting to answer to it, it did bother Linda more that
she likes it admit. Finally one day, Linda learned her name by accident. She
had to wait until one of the partners poked his head out and screamed Suzy’s
name.

So now Suzy likes to make sure
Linda has no key, and Linda has to stand outside like a beggar until someone
else shows up to let her in. While she waits, her attention is drawn to the
construction site across the street. One guy in particular looks especially
miserable. He’s kind of stocky and sweating like a whore in church. Of course
the suit complete with dress shoes are not helping matters. His closet is
cruel. She looks down and once again is assaulted by the color and material of
her own outfit.

Touché.

Mr. Morgan is the first to arrive.
Right behind him is someone Linda doesn’t know. Once they get inside, Linda
discovers that the stranger is a potential client. An actual client! Linda is a
little excited. Mr. Morgan just grumbles and goes to his office.

Linda follows him. “What should I
do with the client?” she asks excitedly.

“Talk to him, find out why the hell
he’s here, tell him that we will call him if he has a case, then file your
notes and forget you ever met him. What did you think you were supposed to do?”
Mr. Morgan was always short on words and big on attitude.

“Got it.” She turns and returns to
the guy. ”Please take a seat. Can I offer you something? Oh, wait, we really
don’t have anything.” She realizes.

“That’s fine. Can you just help
me?”

Wow, this guy seems desperate.
Linda thinks. Wonder if he has committed a horrible crime and wants us to get
him off? Then she wonders, what could be considered a horrible crime down here?
Smuggling in some really cute puppies? She laughs at the thought.

“Did I say something funny?” he
says.

“No, I’m sorry. What were we
doing?”

“You are going to help me?” He now
looks a little frightened.

“Good. Okay.” She opens up a Manila
folder and grabs a notepad. “Let’s start with your name.” She holds her pen and
tries to look official.

“Monroe Tice.”

“And why are you here, Mr. Tice?”

“To get a
divorce.”             

“A what?” Linda looks confused.

“A divorce? You know from my wife.”
Mr. Tice seems exasperated.

“Hold on,” Linda says. Now she
really is confused. With no other option, she approaches Mr.Morgan’s door and
nervously knocks.

“Mr. Morgan?”

“Is he gone?” he responds.

“Not exactly. He wants a divorce.
Is that even possible down here?”

“Figure it out. Stop bothering me.”
Was the only response.

Okay, figure it out. Can you get a
divorce in the afterlife? What happens? Once it’s finalized they automatically
reappear at opposite ends of the city to ensure that they never see each other?
Suddenly there is a flash of inspiration. She rushes back to the desk and Mr.
Tice.

“When you got married, Mr. Tice, it
was until death do you part. So now you’re both dead, I’m assuming. Right?”

“Yes. But—”

“So your marriage is no longer
valid!” Linda says excitedly. “Case closed. Thank you for your business.” Linda
shuts the manila folder.

“But no,” Mr. Tice says.

“No what?” Linda reopens the
folder.

“My wife, Charlotte, couldn’t do
anything like other people. Everything had to be an event like no other. We had
a costumed wedding with people in masks, and she had some old pagan ceremony
that instead of saying till death do you part it said in life and beyond. So
technically we are still married. And stuck here together, and I swear if I
have to live with her another minute I’m going to go mad. I mean, eternal
damnation I get, and yes, our love of masks continued after our
wedding...especially when we were robbing banks, which is what we did for a
living until we were both shot in a standoff with the local police. So
obviously we both deserve to be here...but come on! Can I get a break and at
least suffer eternity alone like everyone else?”

Linda is shocked. Why would someone
choose to be alone for eternity? Even if the person you are forced to be with
is barely palatable. Linda would love to have someone to talk to or even scream
at as opposed to being lonely all the time. She has murdered her husband
and still she misses him every day.

“Mr. Tice. Are you sure? This may
just be a lull in a very long, obviously fulfilling relationship,” she starts.

“No! I am absolutely sure. You find
a way to get her the fuck out of my life!” Mr. Tice is now angry.

This poor man in front of her has
no idea what he is wishing for. Fortunately, her response is prepared.

“Well, we’ve got all the necessary
information and one of our partners will be in contact as soon as they have has
a chance to review your case. Thank you for coming in.” She stands and leads
him to the door.

Thinking of Hank now makes her
shift in her shoes and blink back tears. Everyone she loves is probably in
Heaven all together. Happy and celebrating lives well lived. She alone must
face the consequences of her wretched life.

After he’s gone she turns and comes
face to face with Suzy. She seems a bit shocked as Linda takes the Manila
folder and files it away.

Linda tries to be casual. “You
weren’t here. Someone had to lose that guy. And did you hear why he was here?
He wanted a divorce...” but she realized she was talking to herself. Suzy had
turned and was chatting to herself, or so it would seem. Either that or an
invisible client had just walked in. Suzy can really be very immature. She just
can’t stand anyone else having any responsibility. If she had her way…Linda
feels a bit lightheaded. All of the sudden she feels like she is going to
faint. Her peripheral vision starts to close in and there is a ringing in her
ears. She grabs a desk to steady herself and hears her own voice speaking as if
from far away.

“I think I need to get some air.”

Suzy turns and looks at her with
disdain. “Just go home,” she says sharply.

So Linda goes home.